Nana and I are busy hard at work recording season 2 of our award winning podcast (and if you haven’t listened to it yet, what are you waiting on? The second coming of Colonel Sanders?) and I have to tell you it’s some of the most fun I’ve had in studio in a while. As you can imagine, I’m not allowed to reveal too much before the episodes drop, but I can tell you that each of the conversations has inspired new thoughts as well as re-imagine old ideas about sex and sexuality for me.
This week we interviewed actor and author, Obioma Ugoala, whose book ‘The Problem with my N—– Penis’ is out on Audible now. The book tackles myths and stereotypes around Black masculinity from Ugoala lived experiences while weaving in centuries of historical context. Obi (and I call him by his nickname because he’s my new best friend….in my mind anyways) is a skilled orator and fascinating storyteller, so our hour-plus long conversation ran the gamut of interesting topics. Since the podcast is about sex, the goal was of course, to bring it back to (third) base. In talking about perceptions of Black masculinity, imposed hyper-sexuality and the expectation that every Black male is walking around ever ready or preoccupied with slinging his big, black cock, we touched on why the pleasure experience can be so cumbersome for men in general; not just Black men.
The problem is, as one might expect, other men. Specifically, how a man’s male friends/acquaintances might react to the type of sex that man is having. He posited a scenario:
Let’s say you’re in bed with a woman and she attempts to introduce some level of anal play. Initially, you’re enjoying it but then you freeze when you think about re-telling this story to your boys…to man dem. You quickly cut this aspect of sexual contact short because “you’re not gay or into that gay shit, innit”. You are in this intimate moment with one other person, but the presence of your boys is suffocating the sex. You have to ask yourself who are you having the sex for? For yourself or for man dems?
Obi went on to suggest that the majority of us are not having the kind of intimate sex we think we’re having, that there is always the presence and/or influence of one or more previous sexual partners that feature during lovemaking. Again, he presented a scenario:
Let’s say you’re making love and this person you’re with is obviously eager to please you; to turn you on. They start rubbing your nipples…no response. They begin to rub harder. Maybe they whisper, “Yeah…you like that don’t you?!?” Again, your body fails to respond to this stimuli. Why? Because your nipples utterly lack sensitivity, or worse, you hate having your nipples rubbed. But somewhere in that person’s sexual past, there was a guy/girl who became a complete slut during nipple stimulation and without inquiry, they have applied the same methods here expecting the same results.
And that’s when it came to me: We are all having Trill sex.
Warning – Blerd Alert.
What is a Trill? I’m glad you asked. Trill were a humanoid species native to the planet Trill. A small percentage of the Trill population co-existed with a sentient symbiotic organism known as a symbiont inside their bodies. They feature in the Star Trek series. Perhaps the most famous of all the Trill is Jadzia Dax, whose symbiont, Dax, lived 7 lifetimes before being joined with Jadzia. I won’t bore you with all of the Star Trek lore, because the point is this: Every time the Dax symbiont joined with a host, that host carried the memories, experiences and skills of all the other previous hosts. It can be confusing for a newly joined host to block out the lived experiences of previous hosts and to draw clear borders around where their identity begins and ends.
Folks, I propose to you that as a pleasure seeking species, many of us are suffering from the same identity crisis. Where does your or your partner’s sexual individuality begin or end in those moments of intimacy? When they try something new, is it really “new” or is it something that worked with someone else before? How often do conversations about what one or either of you is into or want to get out of this experience in this moment crop up? Far too often, ego and assumption play a huge role in heterosexual lovemaking and that’s a real tragedy.
In certain circumstances, I’m sure it’s great – and in some cases a great comfort – to be in possession of hundreds of years of cumulative lived experiences all at once. I don’t think sex is one of those circumstances. Imagine unloading 350 years of sexual encounters and other folks’ desires on your partner today. Your romantic and sexual partner deserves distinctive attention and care. You both deserve to have the type of lovemaking that is special and distinct to you. My advice? If you’re guilty of having Trill sex, stop it. Today.
2 comments On Sorry To Break It To You, But We Are Probably All Sleeping With Trills
Loved this post MASI!