Women can compete through men without actually competing for men, and I think this becomes easier to understand when female competition is understood as something broader than competition for male attention, relationships, desirability, or access. Competition can also happen around identity and status. Women are constantly exposed to ideas about what different kinds of women represent, and identity is often built through comparison. Part of establishing who you are comes from establishing who you are not. Once certain behaviors or choices are given enough social meaning, almost anything can become something women use to distinguish themselves from other women.

The important part is that none of this requires women to care very much about men or about whether another woman deals with them. Men can simply provide a common reference point women use to compare themselves to other women. The real social relationship being negotiated can be between the women themselves. What one woman does in relation to men gives another woman a position to distinguish herself from, and that difference can be used to establish who is more discerning, more adaptable, more emotionally regulated, more mature or more psychologically competent.

That changes what the competition is actually about. The man does not have to be the prize, the goal or even the person whose opinion carries the most weight. He can be almost incidental to the psychological exchange. His usefulness is that he gives women a shared subject around which differences between women can be created and measured. One woman does not necessarily need another woman to deal with men because she cares about that woman’s relationship with men. She needs the difference between their responses to mean something. If one response can be treated as more mature, more capable or more sophisticated than another, there is now a basis for status between women.

So when “I can still deal with men” starts carrying weight, the statement may be doing far more socially between women than it is saying about men. The ability itself can become a way of establishing a position among other women. There has to be another response to contrast it against for that position to have much meaning. This is how women can compete through men without actually competing for them. Men provide the reference point, but the comparison, identity formation and status negotiation can be happening almost entirely between women.

Once these differences between women start taking on meaning, they can become attached to ideas about intelligence, power, maturity, emotional control, independence or psychological sophistication, while other ways of responding are given less social value. This is one of the ways identity formation becomes connected to female competition. The competition does not necessarily begin because women consciously decide to compete. It can develop because women create identities out of their differences and then start assigning different levels of value to those identities.

Men are especially useful as a reference point because women’s relationships to men already carry so much psychological and social meaning. In some conversations about decentering men, the competition does not necessarily disappear because getting a man is no longer the goal. The thing being competed over can simply change. Instead of competing over access to men, women can begin distinguishing themselves according to how successfully they believe they can adapt to men. The status moves away from having the man and toward being able to deal with men. Understanding male behavior, recognizing risk, maintaining psychological independence, exercising discernment, regulating emotional involvement and still being able to function around men can all become measures of female competence.

This creates a form of intra-female status negotiation. Women begin establishing status among other women through the way they position themselves in relation to the same male reference point. Once being able to deal with men becomes associated with maturity, emotional regulation, intelligence, discernment, strength or psychological sophistication, adaptability itself starts carrying status. Nobody has to be competing for a man. Women can be competing over whose adaptation to men gets treated as the more competent one.

And the investment does not necessarily have to be in whether another woman deals with men at all. Her relationship to men can simply provide material for comparison. What she does, what she refuses to do, what she tolerates, what she avoids and how she responds can all be interpreted in ways that say something about what kind of woman she is. That gives other women something to position themselves against. The man is the reference point, but the woman is the comparison.

Being able to “still deal with men” can carry status not because women are deeply invested in everyone maintaining relationships with men, but because that ability can establish a difference between women. One woman can position herself as more mature, more adaptable, more discerning or more psychologically competent than another based on how each responds to the same male reference point. Something that appears to be about women’s relationships with men can actually be doing something between women: creating distinctions, reinforcing identities and establishing status among one another.

There is another layer to this that has very little to do with whether women actually deal with men. Women are constantly criticizing, interpreting and measuring other women’s responses, and the expectation that a woman should be able to “still deal with men” gives that comparison another place to operate. A woman can understand everything being discussed, make whatever decision follows from that understanding, and still find herself expected to demonstrate that she could navigate men successfully anyway. At that point, she is being asked to participate in a test she may not have agreed was meaningful in the first place.

The expectation to demonstrate adaptability can look like a conversation about maturity, emotional regulation, discernment or being realistic about dealing with men, while also functioning as a way for women to establish differences between themselves. “I can still deal with men” only carries status when there is another woman against whom that ability can be compared. One woman gets to occupy the position of being more adaptable, more capable or more psychologically competent because another woman’s response has been positioned as the contrast. The actual relationship with men is almost irrelevant to what is happening socially between the women.

So the competition can remain disguised as a conversation about what women should be capable of handling. Women are not necessarily competing for the man, trying to impress the man or even invested in whether another woman wants the man. They are competing over what their different responses allow them to establish about themselves in relation to one another. Men provide a shared reference point that makes those differences easy to construct. The competition itself is being conducted between women.

Recognizing patterns, developing discernment, regulating yourself, maintaining boundaries and knowing how to protect yourself are necessary. Those are survival skills. The double bind develops when women are expected to do all of that and then also demonstrate that they can still successfully deal with men. A woman can understand exactly what she is dealing with, regulate herself, make an informed decision not to participate, and still have that decision interpreted as a failure to adapt. She is expected to know enough to protect herself, but her knowledge is not supposed to lead her too far outside of what other women recognize as successful adaptation. She can choose not to participate, but then she may be expected to prove that she could participate if she wanted to. That is what keeps her inside the comparison: even refusal can come with a demand to demonstrate competence according to the same standard she has already declined.

This also means participation in the status system can become difficult to refuse. If a woman deals with men, her response can be compared. If she chooses not to, that decision can still be interpreted and compared. She may then be expected to prove that her refusal is not an inability, which requires her to demonstrate competence according to the very standard she declined to participate in. The game preserves itself by making women prove that they could play it, even when they have no reason to play at all.

This is where boundary maintenance within a status system becomes useful for understanding what is happening. If successful adaptation to men has acquired status, then someone who has no interest in demonstrating that ability creates a problem for the hierarchy. She is not necessarily failing the standard; she may simply reject the idea that the standard is meaningful. But the hierarchy can preserve itself by turning refusal into inability. Instead of allowing nonparticipation to remain neutral, it can be given a psychological explanation that places the woman right back inside the ranking system.

Attribution is part of how that happens. Attribution is simply the process of deciding what another person’s behavior says about them. Instead of allowing different responses to remain different responses, women can start reading those choices as reflections of a woman’s maturity, emotional regulation, discernment, psychological capacity or ability to navigate men. A boundary is no longer allowed to simply be a boundary, and a decision is no longer allowed to simply be a decision. There is an assumption that something about the woman herself can be understood through it. Once women begin reading each other’s choices this way, those differences become useful for social comparison because the conversation is no longer only about what women do. It becomes about what women believe those choices reveal about one another.

This also helps explain why the responsibility placed on women can keep expanding. There is no stable point at which the correct female response has finally been achieved because the criteria can move. Women are responsible for knowing, recognizing, anticipating, regulating, protecting, adapting and responding appropriately. Then the response itself is evaluated. Then the meaning attached to that response is evaluated. And the ability to demonstrate that all of this knowledge has not made a woman incapable of dealing with men can become another responsibility added on top.

That creates status in appearing to be the woman who has figured out the correct response. The socially valuable identity is no longer necessarily the woman who has a man. It can become the woman who appears to have mastered dealing with men. Her ability to navigate the same conditions another woman rejects can be used to establish maturity, discernment, emotional control or adaptability. What is presented as competence can therefore carry a competitive function between women.

This is why social identity and social comparison are so relevant. People partly understand themselves through categories and through comparison with others. Once a particular adaptation becomes associated with a desirable female identity, maintaining that identity also requires maintaining the difference between that position and other female positions. Men remain useful in the process because they provide the common reference point through which those differences can be made visible.

This also complicates triangulation. Men do not necessarily have to intentionally create competition between women. Women can construct comparison around the shared male reference point themselves. The psychologically important exchange can be happening between women while men function as the third point through which female competence, identity and status are measured.

Seen this way, the competition is not about who can “win” with men. It becomes a competition over adaptive legitimacy: whose response gets treated as the more intelligent, mature, psychologically sophisticated or legitimate way of dealing with the same condition. That is also why someone who has no interest in participating can still be dragged into the comparison. Her nonparticipation represents another possible response, and the status system can assign meaning to it whether she participates in that interpretation or not.

This is also how new female ideals can replace older ones without necessarily eliminating the competitive structure. What receives status can change. The identity can move from being chosen or partnered to independence, discernment, emotional control, adaptability or being unaffected. These identities are not the same, but any of them can become competitive once they are used to establish what kind of woman someone is in comparison with other women. The ideal changes, but female differentiation can continue.

The larger psychological question is why women’s responses to men keep becoming material for female identity in the first place. Why does a relationship to men have to demonstrate psychological competence? Why does being able to remain around men need to prove anything about a woman? Why does “I can still deal with men” need to become another female performance, another responsibility, another standard women measure one another against? And why can a woman not simply decline participation without other women turning that decision into information about her and placing her somewhere within a hierarchy she may not even recognize?

At that point, men are not necessarily the prize, and they are not necessarily the audience. They are functioning as the reference point around which an intra-female status system can be built. The competition exists in the meanings women assign to different adaptations, the identities produced from those meanings, and the hierarchy created once those identities are ranked against one another. A woman does not even have to enter the competition willingly. If her refusal can be interpreted, categorized and ranked by other women, she can be socially pulled back into a game whose premise she never accepted in the first place.

One of the biggest assumptions people make about my content is that I must be celibate, abstinent, or living by some rigid set of rules around men and sex.

I’m not.

I don’t restrain myself. I don’t force myself to avoid men. I don’t have a list of rules that says I can’t have sex. I simply don’t have the desire.

For a lot of people, that’s hard to understand because they immediately assume I’m saying I don’t experience sexual arousal anymore or that I’m no longer attracted to people. That’s not what I’m saying either.

I absolutely experience attraction. I absolutely experience arousal. The difference is that I have to be genuinely interested in someone before I desire them.

That’s a very different experience than simply desiring sex.

During my Deconstructing Desire webinar, one of the biggest rebuttals I talked about was the idea that “women are always going to desire sex.”

If that’s your experience, that’s okay.

This isn’t about arguing with you.

This is for the women who are willing to question whether what they think they desire is actually what they desire.

Because I don’t think most women are actually craving sex. I think they’re craving what sex allows them to access. Who they become during and after sex.

Sex can make you feel desirable. It can make you feel beautiful. It can make you feel needed. It can make you feel pleasant through your ability to please. It can make you feel good about yourself. It can make you feel satisfied with yourself through your ability to satisfy. It can validate something about yourself back to yourself. It can make you encounter yourself.

The problem is that many women don’t experience those feelings anywhere else in their lives.

Their everyday lives are stressful. They’re constantly thinking instead of feeling. They’re disconnected from their bodies. They don’t prioritize pleasure. They don’t create intimacy with themselves. They don’t cook themselves nourishing meals. They don’t slow down. They don’t have rituals. They don’t intentionally create moments that make them feel deeply connected to themselves.

So sex becomes the one place where they finally get to experience themselves. It becomes the place where they finally feel present. Finally feel wanted. Finally feel beautiful. Finally feel pleasure. Finally feel excitement.

And when that’s the role sex is playing, of course your desire for it increases.

Not necessarily because you desire the act itself, but because you need access to the emotional and psychological state it creates.

That’s a completely different conversation.

Once I began deconstructing my own desires, I realized I wasn’t actually craving sex.

I was craving the version of myself I became through it.

I wanted to experience myself. I wanted to feel pleasant. I wanted to feel good about myself. I wanted to feel connected. I wanted to feel pleasure. I wanted intimacy. I wanted presence.

Sex had simply become the vehicle through which I accessed those experiences.

Once I understood the function sex was serving in my life, everything changed.

Instead of looking to sex for fulfillment, I started building a life that was fulfilling. I started creating pleasure outside of sex. I became more intentional about connecting with my body. I cultivated intimacy with myself. I centered joy in my everyday life instead of treating it like something that only happened occasionally.

And naturally, my relationship with sex changed.

My desire for it changed.

The function of sex changed.

My need for it changed.

I no longer needed it to regulate my emotional state because I had learned how to create those experiences for myself.

Before, sex functioned as a way for me to access something I wasn’t giving myself. It was a way to feel connected, pleasant, good about myself, desired, and present. It was a way to feel more in touch with myself.

When something is functioning as your primary access point to those experiences, of course you’re going to desire it more often. Of course you’re going to think about it more. Of course it’s going to feel like a need.

But once I started cultivating those experiences in my everyday life, sex no longer had to carry that responsibility.

Now, if I desire someone, it’s because I genuinely desire them.

Not because I’m looking for them to put me into a particular emotional state. Not because I need validation. Not because I need to feel attractive. Not because I need to escape my life for an hour.

I actually have to be interested in the person.

If I’m not...

I simply don’t have the desire.

It’s really that simple.

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Sex as a Lifestyle

When I talk about sex as a lifestyle, I’m not talking about making sex the center of your life or reducing your existence to sexuality.

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I’m talking about understanding sex as a way of relating to life.

Sex is about connection. It’s about exchange. It’s about presence. It’s about allowing yourself to fully experience something and allowing yourself to be impacted by that experience.

Everything is an interaction.

Everything is an exchange.

Everything you consume, everything you experience, everything you allow into your body, your mind, and your spirit is an interaction with you.

That is what I mean when I say everything is sex.

It is about creating a life that feels good to be inside of.

It is about slowing down enough to actually experience yourself.

It is about the way you prepare your meals, the way you care for your body, the way you decorate your space, the way you move through your day, the way you speak to yourself, and the way you create moments of pleasure that have nothing to do with another person.

Because intimacy does not begin in the bedroom.

Intimacy begins with your relationship with yourself.

A woman who is disconnected from herself will often look outside of herself for experiences that bring her back home. She looks for someone else to make her feel desired, present, connected, or pleasurable.

But sex as a lifestyle is about cultivating those experiences within your own life first.

It is about creating rituals that honor you.

It is about creating routines that support you.

It is about treating yourself with the level of care, attention, and devotion that you desire to receive from others.

It is about becoming intimate with your own preferences, your own body, your own desires, and your own rhythms.

A lot of people think pleasure is something that happens to them.

Sex as a lifestyle is understanding that pleasure is something you cultivate.

It is something you intentionally create.

It is something you build into the way you live.

The way you eat.

The way you rest.

The way you move.

The way you experience beauty.

The way you connect.

The way you exist.

Living an orgasmic life is not about constantly chasing stimulation.

It is about expanding your capacity to experience.

It is about being fully present enough to notice the pleasure that already exists around and inside of you.

It is about allowing yourself to receive.

To savor.

To engage.

To be connected.

Sex as a lifestyle is creating a life where you are not waiting for a moment, a person, or an experience to make you feel something.

You have built a relationship with yourself where you are already connected to pleasure, intimacy, and presence.

Sex is not separate from life.

Sex is one of the ways we experience life.

And when you begin to understand that, your relationship with yourself changes.

This isn’t about discipline.

It’s not about deprivation.

It’s not about morality.

It’s not about proving a point.

It’s about understanding the function something serves in your life.

Because your function for sex determines how much you need it, how intensely you desire it, and how you approach it.

That’s the conversation I want more women to have.

Not whether women should or shouldn’t want sex.

But what is your desire actually trying to give you?

Before you call or text them… do me one favor.

Sit with yourself for five minutes.

Not your emotions.

Not your assumptions.

Yourself.

Then ask:

What exactly am I trying to get back?

You may be trying to get yourself back.

Ask Yourself…

“What feels missing now that they’re gone?”

When someone leaves our lives, we immediately conclude that we’re missing them. We miss their presence. We miss the relationship. We miss the connection. But if you slow down long enough to examine your own experience, you’ll often realize that what feels absent isn’t just the person. Something within you now feels inaccessible.

Every relationship is a new environment. Every new environment exposes you to experiences you’ve never had before. Those experiences produce new sensations within the body, new emotional states, new ways of thinking, new ways of perceiving yourself, and sometimes entirely new ways of existing. It reveals a possibility that we either didn’t know existed or had never consistently experienced. New experiences wake up dormant parts of us. They expand our awareness of what’s possible within ourselves.

The relationship didn’t create those rooms.

It illuminated them.

The mistake is believing those rooms belonged to the other person simply because they were the first person to turn the light on.

A person can become so deeply associated with a particular way of experiencing yourself that, over time, you stop separating the two. You no longer experience that part of yourself as your own. You experience it through them. They become the place where a certain version of you comes alive. The relationship becomes the place where you access a particular state of being, and after enough repetition, your mind begins treating the person and the experience as though they’re the same thing.

Then the relationship ends.

The person leaves, and because you’ve linked your experience of yourself to their presence, it feels like that part of you left with them. What you’re grieving isn’t always just the absence of another person. You’re grieving the absence of a way of existing that became dependent on them.

This is why I don’t immediately interpret missing someone as evidence that I need them back. To me, longing is information. It reveals where I’ve made an experience of myself contingent upon another person’s presence.

In other words, sometimes when you miss a person, you’re longing for yourself.

You’re longing for the part of yourself that only seemed available within that relationship. You’re longing for a way of existing that you haven’t yet learned to cultivate independently. The relationship didn’t necessarily create that part of you. It became the place where you experienced it most consistently, so when the relationship ended, it felt as though that part disappeared too.

That’s why I don’t ask, “How do I stop missing them?” I ask, “What is this longing trying to show me?”

Because longing points somewhere.

It points toward what you’ve attached to another person. It points toward what you’ve made dependent upon their existence. It points toward an experience, a way of being, or a relationship with yourself that you’ve yet to establish on your own.

Not chasing the person.

Not replacing the person.

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Because if you don’t understand what you’re actually longing for, you’ll spend your life replacing people instead of understanding why they became so psychologically significant in the first place.

You’ll mistake a new person for a new solution, when in reality you’re trying to recreate access to the same internal experience.

The attachment remains exactly the same because you’ve never identified what it was attached to.

That’s why so many people repeat the same relationship with different people.

They’re not necessarily searching for the same person.

They’re searching for the same experience of themselves.

The person changes.

The longing doesn’t.

The longing remains because the relationship was never just about another human being. It became the place where a particular relationship with yourself existed.

Until you understand that, every new relationship carries the unconscious expectation of restoring what the last one seemed to take away.

This is why I don’t see heartbreak as something to escape as quickly as possible.

I see it as information.

It’s showing you where you’ve made your relationship with yourself contingent upon your relationship with someone else.

It’s showing you what you’ve unconsciously assigned to another person.

It’s showing you what you’ve yet to cultivate within your own life.

You begin asking a much more important question:

“How do I develop within myself what I believed only existed through them?”

Becoming curious about what their absence has revealed.

What within me feels unavailable?

What part of myself have I only learned to experience through another person?

What am I actually searching for?

Those questions change everything, because they shift your attention away from the person and toward the source of the longing itself.

To me, that’s one of the greatest opportunities hidden within heartbreak. Heartbreak doesn’t just reveal who you’ve lost. It reveals what you’ve yet to cultivate within yourself. It exposes the places where your relationship with yourself became dependent on your relationship with someone else. Once you can identify that, it is no longer about finding another person to fill the absence. It is learning how to develop within yourself what you once believed could only be accessed through them.

Being attracted to a man, yes. Desiring a man? NO.

When I say there is no such thing as desiring a man, people often assume I’m saying not being attracted to men.

That’s not what I’m saying

What is a man?

Strip away the body for a moment. Strip away the social roles. Strip away the label.

What are you actually referring to?

Most people can’t answer that question without immediately listing experiences.

“A protector.”

“A provider.”

“Someone who makes me feel feminine.”

“Someone who makes me feel safe.”

“Someone who buys me gifts.”

“Someone who pays my bills.”

“Someone who leads.”

Notice what happened.

You didn’t define a man.

You defined a collection of experiences, meanings, and functions that you’ve attached to the category man.

So my question becomes:

If your definition of a man is a collection of psychological, emotional, social, or material functions, are you actually desiring a man, or are you desiring those functions?

That’s why I say there’s no such thing as desiring a man.

A man is not an experience.

A man is a person.

The moment your answer to the question, “What is a man?” becomes a list of experiences instead of a description of a person, you’ve already shifted from attraction to projection.

You’ve stopped relating to a person and started relating to what that person represents.

Now imagine removing all of those associations.

Imagine that “man” no longer means protection.

It no longer means provision.

It no longer means validation.

It no longer means status.

It no longer means gifts.

It no longer means access to a particular emotional state.

What’s left?

A person.

And for the first time, you’re capable of asking a completely different question:

Am I actually attracted to him?

Not what he represents.

Not what he provides.

Not what I’ve attached to him.

Him.

To me, that’s the question we’ve avoided asking because we’ve spent so much time defining people by the experiences we’ve associated with them rather than by who they actually are.

What I’m saying is that I’ve stopped attaching experiences to the category “man.”

When I desire something, I desire the thing itself.

If I desire intimacy, then I desire intimacy.

If I desire flowers, then I desire flowers.

If I desire a foot rub, then I desire a foot rub.

I don’t attach those experiences to men and then mistake my desire for those experiences as a desire for men.

That’s the distinction.

Once those experiences are no longer psychologically attached to the category “man,” there is no reason to desire a man as a category.

What remains is something entirely different.

If I’m attracted to a man, it isn’t because he’s a man. It isn’t because his masculinity gives me access to an experience I’ve attached to men. It’s because there is something about him, as an individual, that I’m genuinely attracted to.

My attraction refers back to the person, not the category.

That’s what I mean by genuine attraction.

Genuine attraction is no longer organized around what another person represents to you. It’s organized around who that person actually is.

Projection keeps your attention on yourself. You’re primarily relating to your own experience—what they make you feel, what they validate in you, what they allow you to experience about yourself.

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What many people call desire is an attachment to experiences they’ve psychologically associated with another person. Over time, those experiences become fused with the image of the person until it appears as though they belong to them. They don’t. The experiences are occurring within you. The other person has simply become the object you’ve attached them to.

Someone commented on my last video and said that because of this, you aren’t seeing the man clearly, and you aren’t seeing yourself clearly.

Exactly.

Projection prevents you from seeing either person accurately.The other person becomes covered by everything you’ve assigned to them. It replaces the actual person with your interpretation of them, while simultaneously causing you to mistake your own internal experience for something that exists because of them.

Genuine attraction is not organized around gender. It isn’t, “I’m attracted because you’re a man,” or, “I’m attracted because you’re a woman.” Gender may shape your preferences, but it isn’t the basis of the attraction.

Genuine attraction shifts your attention away from your own psychological experience and toward the other person.

The basis is the person.

When attraction is genuine, your attention is no longer primarily occupied with yourself. It is no longer centered on what this person validates in you, awakens in you, reflects back to you, or allows you to experience about yourself. Your attention is finally available to encounter another person as they are.

Instead of asking, What do they make me feel? What do they validate in me? What do they give me? your attention becomes available to ask a much simpler question:

Who are they?

You’re no longer primarily attracted to your own experience reflected back to you.

You’re attracted to something that belongs to them.

Their mind.

Their character.

Their way of perceiving the world.

Their presence.

Their temperament.

Your attraction refers back to them rather than continuously looping back to yourself.

That doesn’t mean your own experience stops mattering. It means it no longer becomes the basis of the attraction.

To me, that’s the difference between projection and genuine attraction.

Projection is self-referential. The other person functions as a mirror through which you experience yourself.

Genuine attraction is other-referential. The other person is no longer a psychological function or a vehicle for your unmet needs. They are a person whose qualities can be perceived and appreciated on their own terms.

That’s the direction I believe our relationships have to evolve toward—not the absence of attraction, but attraction that is no longer organized around psychological necessity.

Ultimately, the goal isn’t to need a symbolic object at all. The goal is direct relationship with yourself. Direct awareness. Direct embodiment. Before we can remove the bridge, though, we have to understand why the mind built it in the first place.

The imagined object functions as an attentional bridge. It doesn’t create the experience—it gives consciousness a way back into it. Awareness follows the bridge until it arrives at the body, where the sensation was waiting all along.

The body already contains the capacity for sensation. The vagina already contains nerves, sensation, and the capacity for pleasure. If that’s true, then another person isn’t placing those capacities into the body. Why do those sensations often become so much more vivid through interaction?

To answer that, I think it’s important to distinguish between direct awareness and relational awareness.

Direct awareness is simply trying to experience your body as it is. Relational awareness is different. Instead of approaching the body directly, the mind creates a relationship that helps consciousness approach the body indirectly. The relationship becomes the pathway. It gives awareness somewhere to go. Rather than consciousness trying to hold onto a sensation by itself, it organizes itself through interaction.

We see this outside of sexuality all the time. Your heart has been beating every second of the day, but most of the time you don’t consciously notice it. The heartbeat is already there. The sensation already exists. Then someone rests their head on your chest. Suddenly you’re aware of your heartbeat. They didn’t create your heartbeat. They didn’t make your heart start beating. What changed was your awareness. The interaction organized your attention around something that had been quietly happening all along.

Something similar happens with embodied awareness.

A woman can physically live in her body while not fully inhabiting it psychologically. She can spend years thinking about her body, worrying about her body, comparing her body, wondering how other people experience her body, while rarely slowing down enough to directly experience it herself. Existing inside the body and consciously inhabiting the body are not the same thing.

When direct awareness becomes difficult, the mind may naturally organize your awareness through relationships. It creates interaction because interaction is easier for consciousness to stay with than sensation alone. The relationship doesn’t replace the body. The relationship becomes the bridge back into the body.

That bridge becomes easier to understand when we look at physical experience.

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During sexual intercourse, there is literally something inside the vagina. Whether through pressure, movement, or touch, that interaction repeatedly directs awareness toward that part of the body. Consciousness is continually brought back to what is happening there. The interaction doesn’t create the nerves. It doesn’t create the body’s capacity for pleasure. It repeatedly organizes awareness around sensations that the body was already capable of producing. It becomes much easier to notice what is happening because awareness has a clear place to settle.

What’s interesting to me is that many women appear to create something psychologically similar during self-pleasure. While physically touching themselves, they also imagine interaction. The mind constructs a symbolic relationship. That symbolic interaction is serving a similar psychological function. It gives awareness a pathway. It organizes consciousness around the body’s existing sensations. The imagined interaction isn’t the source of the experience. It becomes the bridge through which consciousness more fully encounters an experience already belonging to the body.

When people have difficulty directly relating to themselves, they often relate to themselves through something else. Instead of approaching themselves directly, they approach themselves through another person, another role, another identity, or another symbolic relationship. The “other” becomes a bridge that makes self-experience more accessible. The relationship is not replacing the self; it is temporarily organizing consciousness so the self becomes easier to encounter.

That raises another question. Why does the mind so often construct a male specifically?

The imagined male functions as more than an object. He becomes part of an interaction. He is imagined as a responding consciousness. There is movement, contact, response, and feedback. The interaction itself becomes psychologically meaningful because it creates a relational experience rather than a solitary one.

The woman is not ultimately responding to the imagined object itself. She’s becoming more consciously aware of her own embodied experience. The imagined interaction becomes the pathway through which consciousness more fully encounters what her own body is already capable of producing.

From that perspective, the object is symbolically important, but it isn’t the source.

The source remains the body.

The interaction organizes awareness.

Awareness deepens embodiment.

Embodiment makes the body’s existing sensations easier to consciously experience.

How is the imagined interaction helping consciousness encounter sensations that already belong to her?

This is where I think many women unknowingly attribute their experience to the wrong source. The imagined object feels significant because it functions as a bridge. It organizes awareness, gives consciousness a pathway back into the body, and allows attention to remain with sensations that may have otherwise stayed in the background. The bridge is meaningful, but it is not the origin of what is being experienced.

The body is.

The nervous system is already generating sensation. The vagina already contains the capacity for feeling. The interaction doesn’t place goodness into the body; it helps consciousness remain with the goodness that is already there. As awareness settles more deeply into that part of the body, those sensations become richer, clearer, and more consciously available.

She’s discovering that her own body is capable of profound sensation.

The “goodness” she’s experiencing is not being imported from outside herself. It is the lived sensation already present within her body becoming more fully conscious because her awareness has finally settled there.

The bridge is not the goodness.

The bridge is not the source.

The bridge is just helping consciousness arrive.

The goodness is the embodied sensation that has been there all along.

The deeper invitation of embodiment. The question isn’t how to find something outside ourselves that will finally make us feel alive. The question is how to become present enough to consciously experience what has always been within us.

Stay tuned for Part Two, where I’ll move from the philosophy into the neuroscience. We’ll talk about what may be happening in the brain when awareness becomes organized this way, why the mind creates these symbolic bridges, and what it might look like to gradually remove the middleman altogether—cultivating direct awareness, direct embodiment, and a direct relationship with your own body, without needing a symbolic intermediary to bring you back to yourself.feels

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Women believe they are obsessed with men when truly it is their own self that they are obsessed with. Not even when it comes to dick but in general.

New experiences awakens us to different parts of ourselves.

Dick is simply catalyzing women back into themselves. Women unconsciously use it to experience themselves and come back into their body.

Dick awakens a woman’s awareness of herself. It expands a woman’s awareness of her own body. It brings unconscious parts of a woman into conscious awareness. It simply awakens what already exists within the woman.The sensations are happening in our body. The emotions are moving through our mind. The nervous system responding is our own. The hormones being released are our own. The consciousness witnessing the entire experience is our own.

Dick is just the catalyst that brings certain aspects of us into awareness.

Every signal is being interpreted by your own brain. Every feeling of warmth, connection, excitement, openness, or bliss is occurring within you. None of those experiences are physically living inside another person waiting to be transferred into your body. Your body is generating the experience.

The reason an experience can feel so overwhelming is because you’re encountering your own nervous system, your own consciousness, your own emotional world. You’re experiencing your own capacity to feel. You’re experiencing your own ability to open. You’re experiencing your own body responding. That’s why it can feel so profound. You’re not just meeting another person. You’re meeting parts of yourself that may have been dormant, protected, or forgotten.

This is why we become attached to people so easily. We don’t realize we’re attaching ourselves to an internal experience. We have an extraordinary moment, and because another person happened to be present when it emerged, we unconsciously hand ownership of the experience over to them. We begin chasing the person instead of understanding the process.

One of the biggest mistakes we make is confusing the catalyst with the source. We experience something profound through another person, and we immediately assume that the other person created the experience. But what if they didn’t? What if they simply became the condition through which something already living within us was brought to the surface?

This is why I think it’s important to deconstruct desire. We often become attached to the person instead of asking what the person is actually giving us access to. We say, “I desire them,” but if we slow down and examine the experience honestly, we usually find that we’re describing an internal state. We’re describing feeling alive, connected, open, surrendered, seen, safe, energized, or deeply present. Those are all experiences taking place within our own body and mind. Another person may participate in creating the conditions for those experiences, but they are not the origin of our capacity to experience them.

Spiritually, I think we constantly mistake the doorway for the destination. Someone can become an invitation into an experience of ourselves, and because that experience feels so profound, we begin attributing its source to them. We forget that the awareness, the emotion, the sensation, and the meaning are all unfolding within us. What we’re encountering is our own consciousness responding. What we’re experiencing is ourselves.

Even from a biological perspective, our experiences are mediated by our own nervous system. Every emotional state we recognize, every sensation we become aware of, every feeling of connection, excitement, attachment, or pleasure is processed through our own brain and body. Neurochemicals and hormones don’t exist inside another person waiting to be transferred into us as a finished emotional experience. Our own body releases chemical messengers in response to what it perceives and experiences. Our own nervous system interprets what is happening. Our own brain constructs the experience. In other words, the experience belongs to us before it belongs to anyone else.

This changes the way I think about desire. Instead of asking, “Who is making me feel this?” I begin asking, “What part of me is coming alive right now?” That question returns me to myself. It reminds me that another person may awaken something, but awakening is different from creating. You cannot awaken what doesn’t already exist in some form. The experience is evidence of my own capacity.

That’s why I think so much of what we call desire is actually a desire to reconnect with ourselves. We become convinced that another person possesses something essential, when in reality they’ve become associated with a particular internal experience. Over time, we stop reaching for the experience and start reaching for the person. We confuse the vessel with what it contains. We confuse the invitation with the place we were always capable of arriving at ourselves.

For me, this is what it means to deconstruct desire. It isn’t about denying attraction or pretending other people don’t matter. It’s about refusing to outsource the source of my own experience. If another person can help reveal something within me, I can appreciate that without forgetting where the experience is actually taking place. The experience is unfolding within my own body, my own mind, my own consciousness. The more I recognize that, the less I relate to other people as the owners of my aliveness and the more I relate to them as companions, mirrors, catalysts, and invitations into parts of myself that were waiting to be remembered all along.

You’re encountering yourself.

You’re becoming aware of your own body.

You’re becoming aware of your own nervous system.

You’re becoming aware of your own emotional depth.

You’re becoming aware of your own capacity to feel.

So I have great news…

You are never getting rid of shame. There will neber be a moment where you will never feel shame. There is nothing wrong with you.Now some people will read and feel doom and gloom. Others will read this and feel liberated afterwards. It is all depending on how you view shame. If you view it negatively, thats how you will experience it.

On this page “good” and “bad” does not exist. Things are just things. Your internal belief systems and biases is the lens in which you view things and it decides how you experience it.

A lot of women think the goal is to get rid of shame. A lot of women believe that in order to become confident, sensual, expressive, or fully themselves, they need to get rid of shame. They treat shame as the problem. They think if they can just heal enough, do enough shadow work, or become secure enough, they'll eventually reach a point where they never experience shame again.

That is actually making you more insecure than you were before.

You think something is wrong with you for experiencing it. You become hypervigilant. You rejecr and resist it. You suppress shame rather than allowing yourself to experience it.

What if the goal was never to become free from shame?

What if the goal was to stop being afraid of it?

Shame is not inherently a problem.

It's an emotion.

An experience.

A sensation.

Like any other.

The problem starts when we decide it shouldn't be there. The more you reject it, judge it, fight it, or try to transcend it, the more power it gains over you. What could have been a passing feeling becomes something that follows you into your decisions, your relationships, your self-expression, and your confidence.

When shame is treated like something that doesn’t belong the emotion is no longer allowed to move.

This is how shadow aspects are often formed because something has been rejected.

So instead of allowing the emotion to exist, you bury it.

But buried emotions do not become powerless.

They become unconscious.

And what is unconscious begins to operate without your awareness.

This is when shame stops being an emotion and starts becoming an identity.

Instead of “I feel shame.”

It becomes:

“There is something wrong with me.”

Instead of passing through, it settles in the body.

The more shame is rejected, the more power it gains.

The more it is feared, the more it begins to haunt the psyche.

The shadow is what happens when an emotion is denied its place within you.

This is why I don’t believe in becoming shameless.

I believe in becoming intimate with shame.

Learning its language.

Listening to it.

Feeling it.

Allowing it.

The more shame becomes something we’re unwilling to feel, the more power it gains over our confidence, our sensuality, our sexuality, and our ability to fully express ourselves.

You think something is ecen more wrong because you still feel it and wasnt able to get rid of it. You believe you should never experience it.

Sensuality is not the absence of shame.

Sensuality is the willingness to remain present with yourself when shame arises.

You become more secure when you allow yourself to experience and feel shame.

To feel it without making it mean something catastrophic about who you are.

To feel it without abandoning yourself.

Shame is not proof that you’re doing something wrong. It’s not proof that you’re unworthy. It’s not proof that you’re not confident. It’s simply an emotional experience moving through your system.

And like every other emotion, it deserves to be felt.

Not worshipped.

Not feared.

Not chased away.

Felt.

The woman who is waiting to become completely free from shame before she allows herself to be seen, expressed, sensual, powerful, creative, seductive, or confident will be waiting forever.

Because shame is not the obstacle.

The fear of shame is.

Real confidence is not the absence of uncomfortable emotions. It’s the ability to experience them without letting them determine who you’re allowed to be.

And that’s where true sensuality begins—not when shame disappears, but when you’re no longer afraid of your own experience.

A woman who is comfortable with her own sensuality isn’t a woman who never feels shame. She’s a woman who isn’t afraid of experiencing it. She can feel it without making it mean she’s broken, unworthy, or wrong. She allows it to move through her instead of building her life around avoiding it.

Think of the movie “Inside out 2” and when they kicked anxiety out and what happen to the girl overtime because she kicked anxiety put. Her shadow and anger grew.

In Conclusion,

Stop trying get tid of it and just feel it. I promise it wont k!ll or h@rm you

It explains why a lot of the feminist talking points, the womens movements, and even many of the matriarchal talking points annoy me because the information does not go back far enough for me and only scratches the surface.

But moving along…

In my experience, i have never had the same priviledges a lot of women have had. I am not supported in the same ways. I never had the disadvantage of being infantilized. I do not receive the same grace. I do not receive the same understanding. They are babied, coddled, and receive in ways i do not get to experience. Not to say i want to be babied or coddled. However, people assume I do not need anything and community does not come easy to and for me. It can be a lonely and isolating at times.

People treat me as if I am better than other women and for a long time i refused to see myself as better because I wanted to keep myself small to save myself from the attacks of women. It is something i refused to accept for a while. I wanted to experience the love, support, and all the attention they receive. From the outside, it looks like a priviledge and advantage but truly it is keeping women developmentally arrested, infantilized, and so much behind in life. Having yet to touch and experience their sovereignty, autonomy, and learning to trust their own instincts and abilities.

My refusal to see myself as better, accept it, and fully inhabit my role as MOTHER kept me suffering for a long time and kept me at the mercy of other women.

It explained the reasoning behind why I came around and women wanted to compete with me, why I intimidated other women so much, women wanted me to validate them, expected to me make myself small so they can succeed, and always looked for my acceptance. Mother slowing herself behind, sacrificing herself, and ensuring that children get ahead. Thats what a lot of women are looking for me and expecting me to do. I also often have to be the bigger person.

And what happens when I go into full DARK MOTHER mode and I do not give them my validation, approval, or acceptance. The attacks, nasty behaviors, and the wanting to destroy me directly after.

Much more is expected of me. A whole lot more duty, responsibility, and power.

I do not receive the same amount of help, empathy, or support. Before this is something i used to resent. Now its something i often feel blessed and remind myself that im blessed to fully inhabit my role as a creator. To have the power, responsibility and duties that I do have. I have an advantage that a lot of women are kept away from to keep them ffom their power.

People always treated me as if im too good. Now its time to accept that I am. Rather always trying to force myself to fit in environments that I am clearly I am not in alignment with. Trying to make others comfortable or convincing the crowd that I am no different rather accepting that I am different. Others treat me and acknowledge me as different and its time for me to act accordingly. Take up the space that I am meant to take up.

Take accountability for the role in my own suffering. Being the creator of my reality and experiences. Although all experiences are essential. I have to take responsibility for my own reality so that I can become in control of this area in my life rather playing small and letting others dictate that for me. Allowing me to align with the people, environments, and experiences that are aligned with me

But, was it really dick that I had wanted?

I’m a woman who knows herself well. I know my REAL desires and I know what I need. In this moment I had felt rejected, not needed, unwanted, and unpleasant. There was so many emotions running through me. The person I want didn’t want me, need me, and was not pleased by me. She did not want anything from me and needed space.

Which triggered me and descended me into the underworld

That is when this strong and urgent desire for some dick arised. But it wasnt really dick that I wanted

Let’s deconstruct my desires in real time

At that moment I was in the underworld and in my feelings.

Feeling rejected, unwanted, and like I was a burden.

So in response I wanted to feel accepted, I wanted to please someone due to how unpleasant i felt,I wanted to feel needed and wanted. A man wouldve been the perfect medium.

Men have a way of making women feel needed, desired, and pleasing them could give a big boost to the hurt ego.

Because of us having pussy. Mens insatiable desire for it, need of it to function, and how well they are able to animate and vocalize how good we are able to make them feel is often the perfect opportunity for a woman to establish herself through their voids. When inside of us we can feel how much they need our pussy and bodies. We often want to feel how good we are and that is often experienced through our pussies. Watching a man enjoy the juiciness, goodness, and pleasure from your body can often make a woman feel good. Just wanting to see, feel, and experience how good you are. Men are often the medium a woman chooses to access herself and these feelings.

This often takes place when a womans sense of self is still is coming from outside of herself.

Moments like this are reflections of voids and where i still lack sovereignty and authority of myself.

Im not saying its wrong or something is off for me to want dick but thats rarely the case for me. What i am saying is i do know the difference, i know myself, and i know how to take a moment to deconstruct whats going on with me in that moment. Not be so quick to move and observe whats happening in my body.

In that moment I needed myself. I needed to accept and validate myself. Her triggering me showed me where there were still voids others were filling and where i abandoned myself.

Dick would have diasaociated me and gave me a quick relief from that moment but I chose to stay with myself and explore my feelings with NO BIAS.

So no it was not dick that I needed or wanted in that moment. I needed me and I showed up.

More times than not women do not be wanting dick. They just be wanting to experience themselves.

If something doesn’t feel fully decided, fully aligned, or fully understood, it gets held. Not in an obvious way, but in a way where it stays in your head longer than it needs to. You go back to it, think about it, revisit it, tell yourself you’ll move on it when it feel…

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Women Lose Power in Women on Women Relationships.

At least thats what it feels like and how they perceive the relationship

In relationships between women, there’s a level of equality.

A man makes a woman feel needed in ways that a woman doesn’t.

Men tend to make women feel wanted, yes—but more than that, they make women feel needed. And a lot of times, that need is rooted in codependency.

In relationships with men, women have leverage.

When it comes to relationships with men, sexual attraction alone creates a certain kind of leverage for women.

Men are always going to want access to women’s bodies. That’s not something that comes and goes—that’s constant. So when a woman is dealing with a man, there’s already something he wants from her before anything else even develops.

Women have something men seek.

Women have pu$$¥

Men are naturally drawn to women’s bodies. To sex. To access.

And because of that, women are positioned as something that is wanted, chased, pursued.

That creates a dynamic where the woman is needed.

That alone creates a kind of perceived superiority.

Because if someone wants something from you—consistently, naturally, without you having to work for it—you have leverage over them.

There’s no “access” that only one person holds. There’s no automatic pursuit dynamic in the same way. There’s no guarantee that you’re going to be the one desired more, or desired first.

Now attraction becomes mutual, or uncertain.

And that changes everything.

A lot of women are used to being in dynamics where they are wanted in that way. Where they are pursued. Where they are desired first.

So in relationships with men, there’s inequality.

And within that inequality, women hold a certain kind of superiority.

He wants something from her. He needs something from her.

And because of that, she has leverage.

That leverage feeds the ego.

It creates a sense of power. Control. Influence.

Even if it’s not always conscious.

So there’s a built-in sense of:

He wants something from me. I don’t need to want him the same way for this to exist.

That creates imbalance.

And within that imbalance, women often feel powerful.

Especially when it comes to looks.

In relationships with men, a woman can rely on the fact that her appearance alone is going to give her a certain level of attention, validation, and influence.

But in relationships with women, that’s not guaranteed.

Now you’re being compared.

Now you’re looking at someone who may be just as attractive—or more attractive.

And because there’s equality there, you don’t automatically hold that same position.

Women are also conditioned to build their value through that.

Through how much a man wants them. Through how much a man needs them. Through how much they can make him do.

So when a woman can make a man desire her, obsess over her, depend on her—it reinforces her sense of self.

It tells her she has power.

What Happens in Relationships With Women

Now take that same woman and put her in a relationship with another woman.

That dynamic disappears.

Because now, you’re dealing with someone who is just as desired, just as capable, just as whole.

There is no imbalance.

There is no built-in need.

There is no automatic leverage.

Power, Ego, and the Illusion of Control

In relationships with women, there is equality.

And a lot of women have not learned how to exist in that space.

Because when there’s equality, you lose that superiority.

You lose that position where someone needs something from you in a way that gives you control.

You lose that dynamic where your value is constantly being affirmed through someone else’s desire or dependency.

You’re no longer the one being pursued by default.

You’re now in a space where attraction is shared, or even shifted.

Because if your sense of power was tied to being wanted, to being desired, to having something someone else is seeking—

then what happens when the other person doesn’t need anything from you?

Or when they have the same thing you have?

The same emotional depth. The same energy. The same capacity.

There’s nothing to “complete” or “supply” in the same way.

So the question becomes: What do you do when there’s nothing to leverage?

What do you do when the relationship isn’t built on being needed—but simply on being?

And for a lot of women, that’s uncomfortable.

So it feels like a loss.

A loss of power.

A loss of leverage.

A loss of identity.

The Discomfort of Not Being Needed

In relationships between women, there’s often no built-in codependency.

No one is required to “need” the other in order for the relationship to function.

And for a lot of women, that feels unfamiliar.

Because if your sense of power has always been tied to being needed, then what happens when that’s no longer the case?

It can feel like a loss of control. A loss of identity. Even a loss of worth.

Some women interpret that feeling as inferiority.

But it’s not actually inferiority—it’s just the absence of a dynamic they’re used to.

And instead of feeling equal, some women start to feel inferior.

Not necessarily because they are—but because the dynamic no longer centers them in the same way.

They don’t automatically hold the advantage.

They don’t automatically feel like the one being chosen.

It’s not that women are actually less powerful in relationships with women.

It’s that the type of power they’re used to no longer exists.

In relationships with men, there’s often a sense of superiority that women can access—whether that’s emotional, spiritual, or even biological.

There’s a gap there. An imbalance.

And within that imbalance, women can find a sense of power.

But in relationships with women, that imbalance disappears.

Now you’re standing next to someone who reflects you.

There’s no hierarchy to lean on. No built-in advantage. No automatic validation.

So the ego has nowhere to attach itself.

And for some, that feels threatening.

And I think this is where a real conversation needs to happen.

Because a lot of women are more comfortable in dynamics where they feel like they have some level of superiority—especially when it comes to attraction and desirability.

Where they feel like they are the one being sought after.

So now you’re left in a space where both people have the same thing.

The same energy. The same access. The same power.

And a lot of women don’t know what to do with that.

Because if your sense of power has always been tied to being needed, then what happens when no one needs you in that way?

What happens when you’re only wanted?

But when that’s removed—when both people are on equal ground—it exposes something.

It exposes whether you actually know how to exist in mutual attraction.

It exposes whether you’re comfortable being on the same level, instead of above it.

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That’s where the discomfort comes in.

That’s where insecurity starts to show up.

That’s where some women begin to feel inferior—not because they actually are, but because they no longer have that leverage to measure themselves through.

A lot of women are used to power that comes from inequality.

And when they enter a space where there is equality, it doesn’t feel empowering.

It feels like something was taken from them.

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So What’s Actually the Issue?

Women are still operating from a framework where their value, power, and identity are tied to how much they are needed.

When that framework gets removed, it exposes something deeper:

A discomfort with simply existing as you are. A lack of clarity on what to do with equal power. And an unfamiliarity with relationships that aren’t built on dependency.

The Real Question

If neither of you needs each other— if you both already have the same power—

then what do you do with that?

Can you build something from that place?

Can you collaborate instead of compete? Can you exist without trying to dominate or be validated?

Because that’s what relationships between women really ask of you.

And not everyone is ready for that.

They’re not fully owning who they are. They’re not fully embodying the fact that they are a woman.

A lot of discomfort. There’s so much guilt, so much shame attached to possessing that power.

And that is exactly what gets them caught up in dynamics where they get used, taken advantage of, or overlooked.

Because when you don’t stand in your power, you give it away.

And in dynamics where a lot of women are jealous of them

To have a womb

To have a pu$$¥

To have so much power between your legs

And they don't know what to do with that.

What I notice is masc presenting and stud women usually have guilt and shame attached to have that level of power.

This explains their obsession with femmes

Shadow and attraction

What you do not integrate and what you reject within yourself

You tend be attracted to that in other people and you will put that person on a pedestal

You want that energy but you don't want to own it yourself but still want to feel and access it

Being in relationship with the person is their way of trying to integrate it and create the balance

me and one of my friends whom I've been helping her with her own personal glamour magic…things are getting more intimate and intense

the goal for her is make me yearn.

I'm not afraid of the power women possess.

Don't be afraid of that power.

I love it.

Seduce me.

I love being seduced.

Use that power on me.

Make me yearn

Make me earn

Drive me crazy.

Be sexy.

Be in that energy.

Let me open the door

Let me do this without you trying to intervene.

Allow yourself to receive.

Allow me to feel your power

And I won't stop you.

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Tell me what you want.

Give me a command.

Be bold and direct.

And the only time I will listen is when she's being blunt, when she's being direct, when she's being bold, when she's fully standing in her power and authority.

Anything else will get overlooked.

I'm going to ignore it.

I'm not going to pay attention.

Use that power and use it good.

Giving her the space to exert that power, to practice, and to cultivate that energy

just because you're a masc presenting woman/stud does not mean you have to deny and suppress that energy within yourself. you have to embody the other side.

If you disown your power, that will get used against you

There's nothing good that comes with disowning the power that you have as a woman.

So now, if you’re having a conversation with someone and it feels good—like really good—you don’t stay in it. If your body responds, if you feel open, if you feel that warmth or even a little bit of arousal, you immediately question it. You shut it down.

You’ve been taught that kind of experience only belongs in one place.

But the body doesn’t work like that.

Pleasure isn’t something that’s meant to be confined like that. It’s connected to your overall sense of aliveness. So when you restrict where you’re allowed to feel, you’re also restricting how much of your body you’re actually in.

Women ARE S€X

When I say we are sex, I’m not talking about performance or something that only exists in certain situations. I’m talking about the way the female body is wired to respond to life through sensation. There is a constant level of receptivity in the body. A constant processing of what feels good, what feels open, what creates softness, what creates tension. That doesn’t turn on and off depending on context. It’s always there, but most women are taught to ignore it unless they’re in a situation where it’s “allowed.”

And because of that, we have an effect on people.

People feel that responsiveness. They respond to it, even if they don’t have the language for it. They get drawn in, they get activated, they feel something in their body without always understanding why.

That’s what seduction is built on.

It’s not something you’re doing to someone. It’s something they’re experiencing in response to you.

(It maybe something im doing to someone as well just depending on the context lol.)

That’s where the disconnection starts because attention is taken away from it. Over time, you stop noticing what you feel. You stop staying in sensations long enough for them to develop. You start filtering your responses based on what makes sense mentally instead of what is actually happening in your body. So something that is naturally expansive becomes something very controlled and very limited.

You’re cutting yourself off from experiences as they’re happening. You feel something, and instead of letting it move, you stop it. You question it. You pull back.

And that doesn’t just affect attraction. It affects everything.

Your vitality gets affected. Your openness gets affected. Your ability to actually feel anything deeply starts to shrink because you’re constantly filtering yourself.

You become more closed without even realizing it.

That’s one of the reasons monogamy has never worked for me.

Not because I don’t value connection, but because of what it requires from me. It asks me to shut parts of myself down. To not feel fully. To not experience people fully. To not let moments land the way they naturally would.

When that happens, pleasure also becomes limited. Not just sexual pleasure, but the ability to feel anything fully. Because the same system that processes arousal is the same system that processes joy, curiosity, connection, and openness. If you restrict one, you restrict all of it. That’s why a lot of women feel disconnected without knowing exactly why. It’s not that the capacity isn’t there, it’s that it’s constantly being interrupted.

And I don’t agree with that.

I practice relationship anarchy, which means there’s no hierarchy in my relationships. There isn’t one space where I’m allowed to feel everything and everywhere else where I have to hold myself back.

I experience people as they are.

And I let myself respond as I am.

That includes pleasure.

That includes connection.

That includes those moments where something builds, where something feels good, where my body responds—and I don’t shut it down.

Because that’s what creates a life that actually feels full.

Not controlled. Not restricted.

A life where pleasure can move.

Where sensation can build.

Where moments can actually reach you.

I enjoy my people.

I enjoy my friends. I enjoy being around them. I enjoy our conversations, the way we connect, the way things can feel when we’re actually present with each other. It’s not something I need to tone down or make smaller just to make it fit into a structure.

Enjoyment is felt in the body.

I was talking to a friend earlier, just a normal conversation, nothing behind it, and she told me she was really enjoying it. She was tingling.

She said it was turning her on a little. That it was activating her. That she felt that softness, that openness, and yeah… that her pussy felt it too.

The moment something like this happens outside of the “expected” context, people start questioning it. They start thinking it must mean something more, or that it’s crossing a line, or that it shouldn’t be happening at all.

But really, it’s just the body doing what it does.

When something feels good, it opens.

When something has energy in it, the body responds. And for women, that can show up as warmth, softness, even wetness. because pleasure is happening.

The pussy is not separate from joy. It’s not separate from pleasure. It’s not something that only responds in one kind of situation. It’s part of the body’s overall response system.

So when people try to limit where they’re allowed to feel, they’re also limiting how much of their body they inhabit.

That’s why this matters beyond just relationships.

It’s about vitality.

It’s about sensuality.

It’s about being receptive, being open, being able to let life actually touch you instead of constantly managing your response to it.

Allowing yourself to feel outside of specific contexts changes that. When you stop deciding where you’re allowed to feel and where you’re not, your body starts to open again. You notice more. You respond more. You stay in moments longer instead of cutting them off. That’s where sensuality actually develops, not from trying to be sensual, but from being connected enough to your body that you’re aware of what’s happening in real time.

That’s also why certain relationship structures don’t work for me. Practicing relationship anarchy means there’s isn’t one person or one dynamic that holds more importance than everything else. I experience intimacy across my relationships, not just in one place. I thoroughly enjoy my friends. I enjoy being close to them, talking to them, connecting with them in ways that actually feel real and alive, and I don’t see a reason to restrict that.

Monogamy, for me, creates an expectation that I should limit that. That I should only feel deeply in one space, and everything else needs to be managed or toned down. And that doesn’t feel natural to me. It creates a kind of containment that goes against how I experience connection. It’s not just about who I’m with, it’s about how I’m allowed to feel, and I’m not willing to reduce that.

When there’s an expectation to only feel in one place, you start creating restrictions in yourself. You become more controlled, more filtered, less responsive. You’re not just limiting attraction, you’re limiting your overall experience of life. That kind of containment creates blockages because you’re constantly stopping something that is naturally trying to move.

For me, it’s less about what something means and more about what is actually happening. If something feels good, if my body responds, I don’t immediately shut that down or question it. I stay in it. I let it develop. Not because it has to go anywhere, but because that’s how I stay connected to myself. That’s how I stay in my body instead of constantly pulling myself out of it.

That’s what I mean when I say we are sex. Not something you do, but something you are. A body that is responsive, receptive, and capable of feeling deeply. When that’s allowed, everything expands. Your awareness expands, your capacity for pleasure expands, your ability to experience life expands. When it’s restricted, everything tightens.

So it’s not only about trying to become more open. It’s about noticing where you’re already closing yourself off and stopping that pattern. Because the responsiveness is already there. The sensitivity is already there. The connection is already there. It’s just a matter of whether you allow yourself to stay in it.

People often get this confused with me leading me on (we will talk about that later)

Yes , I have a Gemini Venus

Seduction, Misunderstood

Seduction gets talked about in a very shallow way, or it gets judged before it’s even understood, especially when it comes from a woman. There’s this assumption that if a woman is seductive, if she can turn people on, if she can shift how someone feels in their body, then she must be doing something manipulative, something intentional (and it can be, and there’s nothing wrong with that), something she’s using to have power over people.

Me manipulating energy? YES

But that’s not really what’s happening.

Seduction is about evoking what’s already there.

Desire is already in the body. Pleasure is already in the body. The ability to open, to respond, to feel, to get curious—that’s already there. I didn’t place the desire there. I just evoked it.

Seduction just allows it to come forward. It creates enough presence, enough attention, enough energy in a moment that the body starts to respond.

The Body Responds

Once the body responds, it doesn’t just stay neutral.

It softens. It warms. It opens. You become attentive. You drop into your body a little more. It becomes arousal—that low, grounded, physical feeling of being turned on.

Pleasure and arousal aren’t separate. The same system that lets you feel joy, excitement, curiosity, connection—that same system is tied to arousal. So when someone feels good, when they feel engaged, when they feel met, when their senses are open, the body responds in real ways.

That includes getting wet.

That includes feeling turned on.

That includes that quiet, building sensation people usually try to keep in the bedroom.

But there’s nothing unnatural about that.

That’s just the body being alive.

That’s the body being activated.

Seduction is one of the ways that activation happens between people.

It’s energetic. It’s psychological. It’s somatic. It moves through presence, through tone, through attention, through how much someone is actually in the moment instead of holding themselves back from it.

It travels through the nervous system. It shifts breathing. It softens the body. It creates sensation. And that sensation doesn’t just stay in familiar places—it can bring people into parts of their body they haven’t been in for a long time, or maybe ever.

Curiosity, Exploration, Sensation

That’s where exploration comes in.

Seduction isn’t just about desire—it’s about curiosity.

It invites people to feel themselves more deeply. To notice where sensation is building, where they’re opening, where they’re softening. It pulls attention into the body in a way that can feel new, sometimes unfamiliar, sometimes a little intense.

You’re not just thinking—you’re actually experiencing. You’re inside your body, feeling things as they happen instead of watching them from a distance.

Power, Without Control

There is power in being able to move someone like that. There is power in being able to shift someone’s state—to bring them from disconnected to present, from closed to open, from numb to responsive.

But that power isn’t about control.

It’s about impact.

And that’s what people are reacting to when they demonize seduction.

Because the moment something starts to feel that good, people question it instead of just staying in it.

But that feeling—that’s where life actually is.

That’s where an orgasmic experience starts to make sense beyond the bedroom.

An orgasm is a peak in sensation. A moment where the body is fully open, fully engaged, fully responsive. That doesn’t only belong to sex. It can happen in conversation, in connection, in moments where something builds and is actually allowed to be felt all the way through.

Seduction introduces that build.

That edge. That tension. That warmth that spreads, deepens, and lingers.

It makes things feel… juicy.

And there’s nothing wrong with that.

There’s nothing wrong with being someone who can activate people, who can bring them into joy, into pleasure, into their body. There’s nothing wrong with being someone who can make people feel alive.

That’s not something to be ashamed of.

That’s something to understand.

Shame, the Body, and Language

When it’s clean, when it’s mutual, when it’s rooted in presence and not control, seduction becomes something much more than what people reduce it to.

It becomes a way of experiencing life more fully.

A way of feeling more, exploring more, being in your body more. Letting moments build instead of cutting them off. Letting pleasure exist in more places than you were taught it could.

Seduction, in that sense, isn’t the problem.

Disconnection is.

And seduction is one of the things that brings people back.

And that’s where a lot of shame has been placed.

Especially around the body.

Especially around the word pussy.

Women have been taught to feel uncomfortable even saying it. Like it’s dirty, like it’s too much, like it’s something that needs to be hidden or softened or replaced with something more “acceptable.” And that alone creates distance from the body.

But the pussy is directly connected to pleasure.

It’s connected to sensation, to openness, to response.

So when a woman feels good—when she feels joy, when she feels seen, when she feels engaged, when something actually lands—it’s natural for that part of her to respond.

That can mean warmth.

That can mean softness.

That can mean wetness.

Because pleasure is happening.

Intimacy Beyond the Expected

And that’s where people get confused.

Because they’ve been taught to only allow that level of response in very specific situations. So when it shows up in a conversation, in connection, in presence, it feels out of place.

But it’s not.

It’s just the body being alive.

I was talking to a friend earlier, just a regular conversation, nothing behind it, and she told me she was really enjoying it. Not just mentally—she could actually feel it in her body.

She said it was turning her on. That it was activating her. That her body was responding —that softness, that openness, that subtle wetness that comes when something actually feels good.

And that didn’t feel strange to me.

Because nothing was being done to her.

It was just presence. Just attention. Just energy that felt good to be in. And her body responded exactly the way it’s supposed to when it experiences pleasure.

That’s intimacy.

Not just romantic. Not just sexual.

And when that kind of experience is allowed, it doesn’t just stay surface-level. It can bring you into parts of your body you don’t usually sit in. It can make you more aware of yourself, more curious about what you feel, more open to sensation in a way that feels new.

That’s exploration.

That’s curiosity.

That’s learning your own body outside of the limited ways you were taught to experience it.

Reclaiming Seduction

And that’s where seduction becomes something deeper.

It’s not about control. It’s not about taking anything from anyone. It’s about activating aliveness in someone. Bringing them into their body. Letting them feel something instead of staying numb or disconnected.

It’s the power to move someone into joy, into pleasure, into feeling.

And historically, that’s been misunderstood—especially in the way women are perceived.

There’s a long pattern of women being blamed for how others respond to them. If someone is drawn in, if they feel something, if their body reacts, it becomes “she’s doing something to me” instead of “I’m responding to something that feels good.”

And that’s where seduction gets demonized.

Because people don’t want to admit how responsive they are.

They don’t want to sit with the fact that their body can open, that they can feel pleasure outside of what they’ve defined as acceptable, that they can be moved.

So instead, they label the source.

But people like feeling good.

They like being activated. They like when something actually reaches them—when a conversation has depth, when there’s warmth, when there’s tension, when there’s something that pulls them in.

They just don’t always like what that reveals about them.

Closing

Seduction, in that sense, isn’t something to be ashamed of.

It’s one of the ways people come back to themselves.

I love making womens pu$$¥ w€t.

Awakening dormant sensations that they probably never felt or havent felt in a long time so they can now explore that and begin to embody it for themselves

I love making peoples bodies warm not in a pr€datory way but I just really love activating people

I love being seduced. I enjoy it throughly

We will discuss that in part 2 but for now subscribe and follow along for more …

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