Welcome to A+ Sex Diaries, an A+ feature in which we publish seven days in our sex lives. This week: a thirty-ish genderqueer in the middle of a heavy dose of S.A.D. in a long-distance relationship.

Day One

My day-to-day is often focused on sex. My day job involves talking about sex (and a whole plethora of other stuff) to a variety of people. Plus, I masturbate a lot — like a lot a lot. No sex is boring, including solo sex. I love having sex by myself. I love cozying up with some porn I rented, or perusing a porn site until I find someone who sparks my interest. I love the quick rub of the vibrator before getting out of bed, and even the mindless rumble of my wand on my vulva as I scroll through erotica, taking moments to update my shopping list or check facebook while my clit is rubbed raw.

It’s the middle of winter and my partner is long-distance. This means I’m sad most of the time, and I think Yuri On Ice may have made me monogamous for the first time in my life (and tbh I’m feeling pretty fucking good about it). Things are very solid and good and moving in a positive direction but it’s also cold and grey and a tough time of the year for me. I spend a lot of my time horizontal, depressed and sighing. I swear this would be a very different diary if written in the summer. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

There’s a toy called The Eroscillator Two which looks like a cross between something your grandma bought at an antique store because she thought it looked “pretty” and a retro-future spaceship. It gets me off EVERY TIME without being loud or numbing me. My Magic Wand has been gathering dust since I’ve brought this baby home.

So day one of this sex diary starts in the evening with me using the good ol’ purple toothbrush vibe and skimming for porn. My newest porn site is ManyVids.com. I’ve got a couple pals who use that site, it has a lot of bodies, it seems to let folks label themselves the way they want to and the site itself (as far as I can tell) strays away from derogatory terms, and I guess I just like supporting working class folks in their porn-making endeavors! ANYWAYS I rented some porn.

Just ’cause The Eroscillator Two works doesn’t mean it’s always quick. Today I discovered a sore rough patch of skin on my pubic mound. After a hot second and a flash of fear that everyone gets when their junk seems a little off for whatever reason, I realized this was from letting The Eroscillator just lay there on high-speed while I skim the internet.

There’s no real point in this, other than a reminder that it is possible for me to hurt myself masturbating. And that maybe I need to focus on focusing. One task at a time.

Day Two

I started the day reading the Autostraddle article about sex robots, so then I watched some of my favorite type of porn: people getting off to those motorized sex machines that are just a dildo on a drill or on a motorized rotation. I think I like this porn because even though I know there’s probably men in the room, it seems likely that these toys would be amazing solo toys. And for whatever reason, there’s a ton of squirting. Yes please.

Finally trimmed my fuckin’ bush.

Sexted CB for a minute before they wanted to take a bath. They put me on FaceTime and propped the phone up while they were in the tub. I told them all the things I wanted while they acted it out. Made them wait to cum, which I love because it makes me feel like a bully. Like a fun bully. Like your favorite bully. Obsessed with them and the way they come and the sounds they make and the way that water trails out of their mouth when they are feeling dirty. Grateful forever for the technology that lets their phone camera capture that level of detail.

I hope everyone in a long-distance relationship FaceTime fucks the way we do.

Day Three

Depressed, not feeling sexy, feeling distance from myself and my partner. Looked at my totally naked body in a mirror for a while. Picked at all my skin shit that’s going on. Checked on my back acne. It’s sunny in so many places other than where I live. It’s grey and I’m sad. Feel like such an emo kid cause at 30 I shouldn’t have gender feels or body issues but alas, here I am. Here we all are.

I decide to pack today. Sometimes that helps. Sometimes it makes my anxiety flare up. In reality I know that no one is staring at my crotch because no one actually looks at each other’s crotches during their day-to-day. But that doesn’t mean I don’t become hyperaware of the bulge I purposefully put in my pants to try and get a grip on whatever feelings I’m floating through.

I wore it around and only have mild anxiety mixed with feeling good mixed with a feeling I like to just call “fuzzy-brain.”

After work I FaceTime with CB. They’re good at making me feel better. They are good at making me feel close to them even if I feel far from myself. We talked about anal fisting, naturally.

It’s gay, but CB really does make me feel solid and sexy. Especially in my body. And it’s not like they are the only person who has ever made me feel this way, but right now it feels incredibly nice and special and I don’t want to downplay that. In fact it feels really good to focus on it, knowing full well it’s not going to cure my depression, that this is more complicated and heavy, but you know what. Fuck it. It feels good to be in love, buddy.

There was a particular time they went down on me in a certain way that made me feel fantastic, like really really fantastic. Like top-ten sex moments for sure. I think I like any sex act that solidifies my gender and I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing what does and doesn’t do that. For many years oral was not on that list. Someone’s face between my legs felt medium at best, and usually I just fake-came (I’m human) because this is also something I really hate talking about. Anyways! Sex is surprising and now I can’t stop thinking about CB sucking me off. Whatever they are doing while their face is between my thighs in combination with the way they make me feel in general and the type of sex we have, which is always playing and solidifying each other’s gender/kinks/bodies, makes me feel more than less. It’s rare, it’s new. It’s really fucking rad.

Day Four

Started to masturbate but got too sad to finish. I want to focus on work but can’t get out of bed. My floor is covered in used dirty dildos and sex toys, like multiples of each. Not only is this messy, but also probably disgusting. I bought toy wipes to not like, sanitize the toy, but at least wipe it down before tossing it onto the floor where it will live for a month before I decide I want to use it again. ANYWAYS the wipes did not work and my crusty toys are everywhere. I’m disgusting.

This afternoon, I washed my toys. I have a dishrack of clean sparkling dildos.

At night, I don’t feel sexy, I just feel dirty. Like physically dirty. Like I haven’t showered in over five days. This is another way my depression flares up in a gross way. Surprise, this doesn’t make me want to masturbate.

Day Five

I don’t masturbate. I don’t come. I’m cranky. I’m miserable.

Talked about sex all day. Came home and wanted nothing to do with sex.

Day Six

I talk to CB about how moody I’ve been. When I get to the part where I’m not coming and they laugh and are like, “well that’s your problem.” We both have a good chuckle. We both know it’s not that simple, but it’d be really damn funny if it was.

Laughing with them turns me on.

We FaceTime and I tell them to choke themself. It gets me hard every time. I want to be there, I want my hands on them. I want my hands on something other than my own body that I’m vaguely frustrated at for no real reason, or no real reason I can articulate.

CB looks good, they sound good. I’m miles apart and since I can’t move their body in the way I’d like, I tell them what I want. Legs bent this way. Touch your chest this way. Harder. Don’t touch yourself there yet, you have to wait. Raise your hips up. I have them tell me how they are feeling, how turned on they are. We use multiple toys tonight. A vibe called Rosa by L’amourose which strong vibration and perfect g-spot curve is worth every goddamn dollar. The We-Vibe Ditto, which lets me control the vibration from wherever. A dildo that fits their body nicely. I want them to come multiple times (they do) and then fuck their ass (they do) and then watch as I get off over and over (I definitely do).

It feels good and solid and although makes me feel incredibly close with them, the come down is rough. Hits me like a wave. I cry and I don’t know if it’s because of the orgasm(s) or the loneliness or the depression or that trickle-down feeling I get as I have to re-enter my body after sex sometimes. Whatever it is, it makes me pull away in a way I don’t think either of us were expecting and I wrap myself up in blankets and feel small and pathetic for awhile. What can I say, I’m a little baby and I want to be held after sex and that is one (of many) things that can’t happen via FaceTime.

Day Seven

I feel extra tender today. I feel extra fuzzy, like my eyes can’t focus on anything. I’m annoying at work, unable to make small talk with co-workers. The conversations I have at work are also rough, talks of trauma and rough relationships and cancer and menopause that leave women’s bodies feeling both old and new at the same time. I want to go home and get out of my head.

CB senses something’s off and we talk about the night before. It makes them nervous how down I got after coming and I feel like we might take a break from mutual masturbation until I’m in a different space. The whole thing makes me feels fragile and stupid, but I know the intent is kind, that they are worried about me.

I complain about how I smell like an onion, they encourage me to get in the bath and I actually do. And they were right, the water feels good and warm. I’m not a bath person, I’m not good at making things feel luxurious. Remember my room of crusty dildos? That’s how I exist in this world. But I toss in some bath salt and it actually smells pretty awesome. I pour myself a beer and I listen to a podcast and feel myself come back into myself. I can’t really get off in the water but I touch myself anyway.

I FaceTime CB and am feeling more of myself. I also think both of us are eager to make things feel a little more lighthearted than our conversation earlier. I make a joke about tickle torture and the next thing I know we are cruising Etsy for homemade sex chairs. There’s a LOT of them. My friends, they are not great. I mean, they are AMAZING, but they are also hilarious. I can see myself owning at least one of them in my lifetime. We crack up and joke about our future sex room that we will definitely have in our future mansion. I feel goofy and good. Distant, but not too far.

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