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either, because I didn't know how to describe exactly how. I thought I'd figure it out as we went along, and then I would tell him exactly what it took.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. Months and years passed without replicating the incident. Anxiety began seeping back. My Unified Orgasm Theory was not doing well.

My fear of being perceived as "demanding" during sex and relationships was at a ridiculous extreme back then. For example, I'd heard over and over that boys don't like girls who are "high-maintenance," so I told my boyfriends that I never wanted them to buy me flowers. I thought that men would feel relieved that they didn't "have to cater to me," but they were just puzzled. (One responded by buying me fake flowers.)

Because of the awful shaming stereotypes around cunnilingus, I sometimes refused that too. I couldn't believe that the boyfriends who were willing to go down on me were actually enthusiastic about it, enjoying it -- and when my anxiety became too painful, I inevitably stopped them. I always stopped them long before I stopped enjoying the act, because I was so scared that they hated it, and hated me for wanting it. I was scared that they resented me more and more, the longer they did it and I didn't come. My fear crept up my spine and twisted around my heart until I had to make them stop.

Sometimes I felt trapped between love and disgust, like with the boyfriend who constantly complimented me on how great in bed I was, but who seemed unaware of how much I felt missing. The worst was when he went off on a rhapsodic list of my wonderful qualities ending with: "... and I don't even have to worry about giving you an orgasm!" He didn't see the bind he was putting me in, the awful self-suppression and self-wounding that he encouraged. He seemed unaware that I heard him telling me: "You're great in bed because you are constantly disappearing your own needs, and never asking anything complicated of me!"

In fairness, I wasn't giving him any guidance on how to do better with me. In fairness, I had no idea what kind of guidance to give.

They had their own social programming, and I didn't communicate well. But sometimes I still have trouble forgiving my early boyfriends.

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IV. The Fight

Not all my boyfriends were willing to do as little as going down on me. One, in particular, resisted very strongly; never did it at all. This was an especial problem because he was one of the men I've loved most in my life, and our relationship lasted for years. I think well of him when I think of anything other than sex. But when I remember having sex with him, I feel echoes of sick panic and heartbreak.

By the end, every time I slept with him I felt nothing but disgust.

He seemed to prove all my fears: that the men in my life would loathe and resent me if I tried to discuss my confusion and desperation; that they would loathe and resent me if I asked for help with my sexual needs. Towards the beginning of our relationship, I tried asking him (very timidly) to go down on me, and he simply refused. In later

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