Before we started dating, David and I often had random conversations about our sexual lives. Since I was not very experienced, I didn’t have much to say, but David, on the other hand, had plenty. He would tell me stories about how good his exes were in bed and talk about the things he wanted to do to me when I was ready to have sex with him. Sometimes, we’d discuss BDSM, and he’d ask me what I’d do if I found out my partner was a sadist. I remember him asking if I’d ever been choked during sex, and when I said no, he playfully showed me how it’s done. We laughed about it.

I never felt strange or uncomfortable during these conversations. I thought it was a good thing. I believed it would help us understand each other’s sexual needs and make it easier to communicate when the time came. I also thought it would prepare me to meet the kind of standards his exes had set. Regardless, I loved David deeply and was willing to do anything to make him happy.

After about a year of friendship, we finally defined our relationship and started dating. Everything was great—until our first kiss. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t focus. Thoughts about how his exes might have kissed him kept flooding my mind. Before I knew it, I lost my rhythm, and this awkward sound escaped my mouth. It became obvious that I was struggling, and David, noticing my discomfort, stopped.

Kissing wasn’t new to me—I’d kissed one or two guys before David. Those guys told me they enjoyed it, but I was never satisfied with myself. Deep down, I felt like I was doing something wrong and they were just being nice. I never felt any emotions during those moments, which I thought was because I didn’t truly like them.

That afternoon, David was calm about the whole thing. He didn’t say anything about me kissing the wrong way or about me being distracted. Instead, he pulled me closer to his side, and we cuddled. He told me he enjoyed the moment we had and was excited about me getting better.

That should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. It only added more pressure. I became even more nervous about our next make-out session.

I started reading books about kissing and intimacy to learn. I couldn’t stop wondering why it was so hard to relax and enjoy the moment. I loved David so much, and the thought of losing him because of my struggles with intimacy was unbearable.

After reading some books and watching some videos, I thought I had everything figured out until our next make-out session. This one was very different because David was in the mood and ready to take things further. Seeing his boner, I knew I had to do better.  I knew I had to deliver, which made me more nervous. Everything was happening so fast that I forgot about everything I had read and watched. I just lay there like a log of wood, faking enjoyment while my mind raced. Even when he finally penetrated, I wasn’t sure if I was moaning the right way. It was overwhelming, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

As usual, David acted normal afterwards. He didn’t complain or make me feel bad. But it was then I realised the real problem: it was me. I was bringing my low self-esteem into my sexual life. David never made me feel less than or pressured me to compete with his exes. I was the one overthinking, struggling to be in the moment, and finding it hard to be myself.

I knew David’s patience wouldn’t last forever, and I didn’t want to wait until he got tired of me. So, I decided to take a break—not from him, but from my insecurities. I needed time to discover myself, to figure out why I felt this way, and to fight the demon within me. I needed to build my confidence and work on my self-esteem. I wasn’t sure where to start, but I knew that, eventually, I’d find the answers to every doubt in my mind.

Dorcas Akintoye
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Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.