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Ever since I was very young I have been incredibly sexually.

All that bullshit about how sex takes up the large majority of the male brain, I think about sex every hour, ever since I’ve been about 13. This has always been in conflict with my self-confidence and perception of my body. I have never been particularly skinny or fat but growing up I was bigger than my friends. I remember in year 6 or 7 standing in the girl’s changing room and one girl telling me that I looked pregnant. It was from that day on that I started being obsessed with my body.

This obsession was maintained from further comments throughout my childhood. I was dating this boy who was skinnier than me and one of his friends posted a ‘starter pack’ on Instagram with a picture of an obese women hugging an extremely skinny man. Even when I was fully dressed I had the feeling people were staring at me. The thought of getting naked in front of a boy was something I never thought I would be able to do. My first ‘boyfriend’ was gorgeous. When I was around him I got those exciting butterflies, the ones you get in your vagina, and I wanted to have sex with him so badly. We’d sexted a couple of times, but I was always too scared to go over to his house. As much as I wanted to fuck him, I could think of nothing worse than being naked with him. He was the year above me and boys can be impatient and horny, so he dumped me and had sex with another girl the week later.

Of course, that was another major knock to my confidence. In some desperate state a few months later, I went to my second ever house party and I almost had sex with this guy, but I wouldn’t let him take any of my clothes off, he was too drunk and ended up going flaccid.

 Then I met Peter.

                    We were best friends for a year before anything happened. He later told me that he had been in love with me that whole time, but I had no idea. The first time I’d spent with him sexually was somewhat magical. I wanted to be fully clothed and the lights to be off. But he slowly pulled up my top, then kissed my boobs slowly and softly. I felt nervous at first. Would the sight of me naked deter him completely? He then kissed and grabbed my thighs, kissed my stomach and told me how beautiful I was. It was almost like he knew what I was thinking. There’s nothing more liberating and more sexually rewarding than feeling sexy.

Having sex with him felt so right.

He loved my body and as I result I started to love it too. I started to love being naked in front of him. I felt thankful for him, for making me love my body. Although things were magical at first, he became an incredibly toxic person to be with. We were together for four years and throughout that time he was emotionally abusive and physically aggressive around me. He started to love me almost too much. Four years went by and I eventually found out he’d cheated on me, been speaking to and sexted multiple girls throughout our relationship. The familiar feelings of self-loathing came back. I started to hate my body again and partly blamed myself for the reason he wasn’t satisfied.

 But what I really want to thank him for is for making me realise that my own self-worth should not depend on anyone else’s validation. It took some time for me to work that out, but I now love my body not because somebody else does but because I’m so lucky to have it.

It’s strong, powerful, sexy and it’s what I’ve been given. It does matter who I have sex with now, whether it’s a one-night stand or someone who turns out to be a dick, I always feel sexy whilst having sex.

                                                I’m always the first to get naked.

                                                                    So Peter, you’re an arsehole, but thank you.

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