The exploration of casual sex – It’s not for everyone (including me)

I will turn 28 this Fall. Over the last decade, my solitude has been interrupted both in brutal and beautiful ways – romances so intense they would bring the storm of an ocean to jealousy and stable relationships that would reflect the ease of slow rocking waves taking me back to the shore safely.

Cumulated years of relationships : 6.

Cumulated years of celibacy : 4.

During these periods of “singlehood” I would choose the absence of a man both in my life and my bed. Then I would naturally go back to my “wild child” self, a nickname often given by those hoping to see me give up my seclusion and my hermitic habits.

My twenties and its tenacious invitations to explore my self and my sexuality (as if we only had 10 years to do it) were not about one-night stands or friends with benefits (a lazy expression that never made its place in my vocabulary). I wasn’t going out in bars with the clear intention to skip a night in my own bed. I wasn’t responding  by the affirmative to the infamous “u up?” either.

My abstinent single life was not the consequence of self-imposed rules or of the total absence of sexual energy. Far from that. And months of introspection have been necessary to see the light in this odd incapacity to spontaneously share my intimacy without feeling almost troubled from the experience.

A contradiction seemed to slowly grow within me – my friends would always naturally come to me for advice and inspiration for all sex tales – However, on the other hand, confusion was sparked as they could see that I was beginning to refuse wholeheartedly to live out my twenties, my beauty, my freedom.

Interrogated by them on the matter, I had my line – “I can’t sleep with him, I’ll receive too much information.” This sentence didn’t make anymore sense to me than it did to them. It was the only sentence coming up every time during conversation, as if my soul knew the meaning of it, but the message hadn’t made its way to my conscious mind just yet.

Then, on a random roadtrip to the East Coast, explanations began to rise up to the surface. On my way to Boston long after sunset with a male friend that had recently crashed into my life, the conversations rapidly took some depth. He confessed that sex for him had always been physical and if sex was to allow him to connect with anything, it would be a reconnect with his animal nature. That’s when everything clicked – sex had always been anything but “only physical” for me.

Connected or not on a romantic level with the man I was getting under the covers with, only two scenarios could happen. One, the first layer of his skin would melt under my touch and suddenly, everything his epidermis was protecting – his past, his emotions, his thoughts – would blend into my light and inundate me with information he had willingly chosen not to share. Two, the sex was fun and exciting, but the lack of substance would leave me feeling empty, and needless to say, used.

These two uncomfortable scenarios led me to unconsciously build myself inside a fort. Frustrated by the huge void that made a home in my belly after sexual experiences that lacked deep connection, or annoyed by the amount of insight floating within my heart to make it heavier, I chose to spend my nights alone, reserving my sexual intimacy to relationships with a type of masculine energy that resonated with me on a deeper level.

As women, we have accepted to open our sacred space (pussy, womb space, yoni, vagina…) to the consciousness of another individual. We accept the penetration on a physical level yes, but on all other levels as well. Even though sex is a major part of the great pleasures of the human experience, it is also to be taken very seriously when we think that each time, we absorb the energy and consciousness of another being. And although this exchange can be euphoric, mind-blowing, blissful beyond words, it can also be negative, energy-sucking, disappointing, with  long-term impact on ourselves. For my own personal experience, it is imperative to selectively choose who has access to our space.

As I move closer to my thirties, I know that this time spent with no one but myself still was one of great exploration. I discovered my true worthiness, without measuring it through the eyes of men, and met both the feminine and masculine energies coexisting within me, reminding me that one is whole, with or without a partner. Today, I believe that these teachings led me in the past and will lead me again in the future to attract a lover that will nourish my entire soul through our sexuality. And I won’t settle for anything less than this ecstasy.








Marie-Philippe Jean

Heather Creator + Wolf Mother + Love Warrior

Marie-Philippe is a creator and a community leader who loves and feels as deep as the sea. In tune with nature and the energies surrounding her, she is in on-going studies to develop her intuitive gifts and bring guidance to teenagers and women as they are going through their self-love and self-healing journeys. Writing, movement and video production are her designated ways to communicate with the world and her work is fueled by her ever-going passion for the human experience. /// Marie-Philippe est une créatrice de contenus et de communautés qui aime et ressent aussi profondément que l’océan. Fortement influencée et inspirée par les éléments et les énergies qui l’entourent, elle étudie ses habiletés psychiques et intuitives pour guider les femmes et les adolescentes à travers leurs explorations vers la meilleure version d’elles-mêmes. C’est via l’écriture, le mouvement et la vidéo qu’elle s’exprime et son travail est ancré dans sa passion et sa curiosité pour l’expérience humaine.