The Weight I Carried to Be Loved
Trigger Warning around Sex
A while back, I had a conversation with a new intimate partner. He said it wasn’t necessary to talk about sex when things are good. I cringed.
I didn’t push back. I wanted to see how our energies would align. It was good—but something felt off. And I didn’t say anything. Cue good girl programming: I should be happy with what I have. How dare I want more? How dare I speak up and make someone uncomfortable?
This brought up something that happened 16 years ago.
REAL TALK
If you’re a woman, I know you get this. I’ve had these one-on-one convos, and we all do it. I follow a sex education account that’s done surveys—this is the norm for most women. You’re not alone.
If you’re a man reading this thinking, I’ve never seen this, it’s because women are great at hiding it. It’s a survival mechanism. If you truly want to know—create a safe space where these conversations can exist.
SEXUAL EDUCATION
My sex ed? A book. That’s it. Sex was taboo—don’t talk about it. Ironic, since it’s one of the most natural things we do. I didn’t even talk about it with friends back then. I was super closed off.
TRIGGER WARNING
At 21, fresh out of university, I finally had a boyfriend. My goal back then was to have a boyfriend—everyone else did. I wanted to make him happy, and I let myself be used. For two months, once a week, I’d go to his place and we’d have sex.
I wasn’t turned on. My body didn’t want it. I was dry from being on the pill, it didn’t hurt—but it was uncomfortable. I just laid there while he finished.
And I thought that was normal.
A part of me felt proud for satisfying him. Cue the “serve the man” programming I carried well into my thirties. I needed to be perfect, silent, pleasing—so I wouldn’t be rejected. Rejection meant I wasn’t worthy of love. I believed that for years.
THE WEIGHT OF LIFE
I carried so much on my own. The perfect woman mask. Ignoring my needs to fit into what would make a man choose me.
Say the “right” thing. Do the “right” thing. Look the “right” way.
All shaped by societal norms—TV, magazines, the works. I bore that weight quietly. If anyone saw behind the mask, I could lose everything. All that effort to fit a mold...for what?
You carry things too. Of course you do. You had to, to survive and build the life you have. But it’s heavy, isn’t it?
THE TRUTH
Here’s what I know now: The men I attract today want the real me—not the version I used to morph into.
They want the raw me. The me who cries when she’s scared. Who shares her anger—not to yell but to be honest. Who speaks her dreams so he can stand beside them. Who says when she’s tired—and receives care in return. (Shoutout to the man who draws me baths with oils and candles. You know who you are.)
I once thought I’d repel men by being this open. I felt vulnerable as hell. But the truth? It brought deeper connection, more gratitude.
My 21-year-old self is long gone. At 36, I love myself so deeply that it draws men in. They feel safe with me—their words. They want to support me. And I know I’m not alone—there are many women like me now, queens who inspire others to rise too.
You don’t have to carry this weight. You’re allowed to be raw. You’re allowed to let go. Let yourself feel lighter.