You Got Over Your Erotophobia- Except On This Issue
Before I even started my day at Feminique yesterday, I had an appointment. With a therapist. About my invasive rape thoughts.
This was a trial. For one, I was afraid it wouldn’t work. I used to think therapists were magical and could switch off my problems. Now I know they’re just humans like me, who happen to have some specialized training. Problem is, it’s very similar to my training so can any sex therapist tell me something I don’t already know? If they can’t, does that mean I’m doomed to have violent rape images play through my head unwillingly the rest of my life?
Secondly, other professionals, when they find out I’m a sexologist, start treating me different. They’ll either:
- Be so riveted by what I do they become distracted and fuck shit up. Like when I was at the gynecologist to get my first Gardasil shot and she instead injected me with Rh Immune Globulin, a medication for pregnant women, after I told her about being a sexologist.
- Need me to explain it to them, like when I asked my doctor why I might be having painful sex and I ended up having to teach him about the possible diagnoses.
- Chastise me if I don’t know something, like when Carl’s vet said “You’re a sexologist and you don’t know X?!” Um… my degree is in HUMAN sexuality, not feline sexuality.
So with all these fears in mind, I start looking up therapists in my area who are certified sex therapists AND who have specializations in sexual abuse AND are hypnotherapists (I’m poor, don’t have money for long-term intensive therapy, and hypnotherapy can be a quicker fix). With those credentials, there was exactly one therapist who I did not know personally and her case load was full- not taking new clients. Fuck my life. Where does a sexologist go when they need a sexologist?
What I decided to do it take a gamble. I was going to withhold the me being a sexologist thing for reasons I just described, but I decided to tell her hoping she’d have mercy on my unique predicament that I’m in the field and I have to work with her because she’s the only one I don’t know. It worked, but then it immediately became, “Have you tried XYZ” blah blah blah sexologist jargon that she would never say to anyone not a sexologist. Again- fuck my life.
I decided to meet with her, and off the bat said I want to be treated like a patient, not a peer. She was agreeable and we went from there with the usual intake… “tell me about your mother”, “tell me about your father”… stuff. Somehow she got me crying talking about how erotophobic I used to be and how utterly humiliated I felt growing up about sex. I didn’t even tell my mother when I got my period because then I’d have to talk about… eek… something sexual.
Me: I think me becoming a sexologist has a lot to do with how pissed I was that I was so ashamed of sex. I hated feeling that way. I couldn’t understand why I felt that way because I certainly wasn’t taught it from my parents.
Therapist: And there was no strict religious upbringing.
Me: The opposite. The way that I got over it was to go 100% in the other direction. I literally one day decided to switch it off and look at me now. Completely over my erotophobia.
Therapist: You got over your erotophobia, except on this issue.
Shit. Is that true? Do I have some deep seated “hang up” somewhere? I can’t even picture it. I feel like my mind is an open book when it comes to sexuality. Yes, except for non-consent but isn’t that every sex-positivist’s line? You want to swing, you want to screw a cow, you want to have orgies with 5 other men, you want your girlfriend to put a dildo up your ass while you watch preggo porn- I don’t care, so long is everyone consents. Ok, the cow can’t really consent, but you know what I mean. I don’t know if loathing rape is erotophobia carried over from my childhood because most people loath rape. Loathing rape is not the problem, it’s the way it invades my brain.
But anyway, I’m getting hypnotized next session so we shall see how it goes.
In the shop, it was the day of middle aged men who came to buy something specifically to spite St. Agnes Church, the church that gave me the problems when I first opened. The first man:
Him: I haven’t been to a sex shop in 20 years, so I had no idea where to go but I figured there had to be something around here so I googled “adult store West Chester” and guess what came up?
Me: What?
Him: This news article “Catholic Church Protests Adult Store in West Chester”. I said “That’s the one I’m going to!”
Me: HaHa
Him: And I’m Catholic too!
The next one, looking to purchase his wife’s first vibrator, came in with a friend and after we got chatting:
Him: I never heard of this store before, but I was looking online for sex shops in West Chester and guess what I found?
Me: News articles about being protested by a Catholic Church?
Him: Yes! I couldn’t believe it. So I read the article, and then I just had to go to your website. And after reading about you on your website, I just had to come in.
Me: Thank you Catholic Church!
They spent over $300 between the two of them, so I continue to be find joyful irony that a Church brings me so much business all these years later.
This man, and his female friend there to give the “woman’s perspective” of what his wife might like reminded me of George and myself in 20 years. We spent well over an hour discussing every possible detail about vibrator use and how to pick out the right one. And then we got to chatting about kids, and Canada, and life. Nothing especially noteworthy but it’s just nice to be able to have these wonderful connections with other people. Sexuality is a great unifier. Not sure I ever went into a retail store and had an hour long heart-to-heart with the sales person but people do it at Feminique all the time. Love it!
After that I packed my bag for a delightful Orgasm 101 party with 8 women who were great, and made a date with the producers to chat tomorrow about if we can turn my crazy little life into a TV show!
Contact sexologist Jill McDevitt:
