Taking Sexy Back

Taking Sexy Back Plot Summary

Introduction

Alexandra was a successful professional in her mid-thirties who felt disconnected from her own desires. Despite her confidence in the boardroom, she found herself unable to express what she wanted in the bedroom. "It's like there's this invisible wall between what I truly desire and what I allow myself to ask for," she confided to her therapist. Alexandra's story echoes that of countless women who have internalized messages about female sexuality being passive, performative, or something that exists primarily for others. Her journey to reclaim her authentic sexual self became a process of unlearning shame, confronting cultural narratives, and developing a profound relationship with her own body and desires. Sexual self-awareness is ultimately about moving from an outside-in experience of sexuality to an inside-out expression of authentic desire. For too long, women have been taught to view their sexuality through the lens of others' expectations rather than their own internal compass. This journey explores how cultural forces, developmental experiences, mental frameworks, physical relationships with our bodies, emotional landscapes, relational dynamics, and spiritual dimensions all shape our sexual selves. By examining these interconnected aspects, we discover how to shed limiting beliefs and reclaim our right to desire, pleasure, and sexual empowerment on our own terms.

Chapter 1: The Cultural Paradox: Female Sexuality Between Silence and Hypersexualization

Anjali, a twenty-seven-year-old woman of Italian descent, recently ended a four-year relationship and found herself reentering the dating world with trepidation. Though strikingly beautiful, she harbored deep insecurities about her body, particularly her vulva. In her long-term relationship, her personal grooming had been simple—shaving her bikini line and trimming her pubic hair. But facing the prospect of intimacy with someone new triggered intense anxiety. She abandoned her natural approach in favor of expensive professional waxing, driven by the belief that she "needed to present herself in the best possible light" to compete with other women. Yet even after removing all her body hair, Anjali discovered a new source of anxiety—she began worrying about the color of her labia. She researched vaginal bleaching options until her roommate intervened with a passionate reality check: "Any man who judges you for the color of your labia doesn't deserve to be anywhere near that precious thing!" This moment illuminated how deeply Anjali had internalized cultural messages about female bodies requiring constant modification to be deemed acceptable. Her story represents the impossible position women occupy in our culture—caught between silence and hypersexualization. From an early age, girls receive contradictory messages: be sexually appealing but not demanding, available but not hungry, capable of bringing partners to orgasm while faking their own pleasure to protect male egos. Many women cannot name their sexual anatomy or articulate what brings them pleasure. They're expected to perform sexuality rather than embody it authentically. The cultural landscape pressures women to be both chaste and seductive, creating a minefield where authentic sexual expression becomes nearly impossible. Entire industries profit from perpetuating insecurities, leading many women to ask themselves, "Who benefits from my negative thoughts about my body?" This question becomes revolutionary when we recognize that loving ourselves as we are threatens systems designed to control female sexuality through shame and inadequacy. Moving beyond these contradictions requires a paradigm shift—from being sexualized to being sexual. It means constructing sexuality from the inside-out, connecting with our bodies as sources of pleasure rather than projects requiring constant improvement. The journey toward sexual self-awareness begins with questioning whose standards we've adopted and reclaiming our right to define sexuality on our own terms.

Chapter 2: Mindful Desire: Understanding Your Sexual Response System

Morgan and Karen have been together for five years. Their sexual relationship started enthusiastically, with both partners initiating intimacy regularly. But over time, a pattern emerged: Morgan, who experiences spontaneous desire (suddenly feeling "in the mood"), became the primary initiator, while Karen, who experiences responsive desire (arousal that builds gradually in response to stimulation), rarely initiated sex. Though Karen enjoyed their sexual encounters once engaged, Morgan began feeling frustrated about always having to make the first move. Privately, Morgan worried that Karen no longer found them attractive, while Karen felt broken for not experiencing the spontaneous desire she believed was "normal." Their misunderstanding was creating an emotional wedge, with both partners trapped in shame-loaded stories about what their desire patterns meant about them and their relationship. What Morgan and Karen didn't understand is that sexual desire operates on a dual control model—like a car with both an accelerator (excitatory system) and brakes (inhibitory system). For some people, the accelerator is highly sensitive and easily triggered by sexual cues, while others have a more sensitive braking system that responds strongly to potential threats or concerns. Neither pattern is wrong—they're simply different ways of experiencing desire. Researchers have identified that women often follow Basson's model of sexual motivation rather than the linear Masters-Johnson-Kaplan model. While the traditional view assumes desire always precedes arousal, Basson's model recognizes that for many women, desire may follow arousal rather than precede it. A woman might enter a sexual experience feeling neutral but emotionally willing, then develop desire as she becomes aroused. This creates a circular feedback loop where physical pleasure and emotional connection build on each other. Understanding these different models can transform a couple's sexual relationship. When Morgan and Karen learned about responsive desire and spontaneous desire, they stopped pathologizing their differences. Instead, they began working collaboratively to create conditions that supported both their sexual styles. Karen no longer felt "broken" for experiencing desire differently, and Morgan could appreciate that Karen's enjoyment was genuine even when not initiated by her. For those with responsive desire, context becomes especially important. Creating environments that minimize sexual "brakes" (stress, body image concerns, worries about performance) while engaging sexual "accelerators" (relaxation, emotional connection, sensual touch) helps desire flourish. This knowledge transforms the conversation from "why don't you want sex?" to "what helps you feel desire?" and creates space for partners to work together rather than blame each other. The journey toward sexual self-awareness requires recognizing and honoring your unique desire pattern without judgment. There's no "right" way to experience desire—only your way. By understanding the science behind sexual response, you gain the language and framework to advocate for what you need while appreciating the equally valid but different experience of your partner.

Chapter 3: Body Politics: Embracing Your Physical Self Without Shame

Renee went to college without a clear understanding of what sex entailed and gained little experience until her senior year. Throughout her early twenties, her male partners would take the lead during intimate encounters while she would lie still, making sounds she had seen women make in pornography. She faked orgasms 100 percent of the time—not consciously to protect her partners' egos, but because she had no concept that her own pleasure was even a possibility. In her mind, sexual experiences fell into just two categories: "good" (pain-free with post-sex cuddling) or "bad" (painful without cuddling), leaving her feeling lonely and discouraged. Everything changed when Renee began having brunch conversations with female friends who spoke openly about their sexual experiences. These revelations provided both validation and education. For the first time, she heard other women talking about pleasure as their right, not just something performed for a partner's benefit. Through these conversations, Renee realized she needed to raise her standards. What had previously been her ceiling (sex that didn't hurt and included cuddling afterward) became her new floor. She began expecting both herself and her partners to attend to her pleasure during sexual encounters. Renee's story highlights how women's relationship with pleasure is often complicated by cultural messages that prioritize self-sacrifice and accommodation. Many women learn to suppress their "appetites"—for food, for love, for sex—fearing judgment if they appear too hungry for anything. This pattern extends into the sexual realm, where women often feel unable to advocate for their own pleasure or even believe they deserve it. The journey toward sexual self-awareness requires reconnecting with our bodies as sources of pleasure rather than objects for others' evaluation. Research shows that women tend to evaluate their bodies as "a series of pull-apart components that need to be altered or fixed," while men typically view their bodies more holistically. Women also tend to think about their bodies as things to be looked at, while men focus on what their bodies can do—a distinction between being an "object" versus a "subject." Changing this relationship begins with knowledge. Understanding female anatomy—particularly the clitoris, which exists solely for pleasure with over 8,000 nerve endings—helps women reclaim their birthright to sexual enjoyment. For decades, medical textbooks omitted or minimized the clitoris, with the first complete anatomical study only published in 1998. This knowledge gap reflects broader cultural discomfort with female pleasure. Embracing physical self-awareness transforms how we experience intimacy. When we move from mystery to mastery regarding our bodies, we can advocate for what brings us pleasure. Self-exploration through mindful practices like genital self-observation or masturbation helps women identify what feels good without performance pressure. The relationship between our bodies and our sexuality forms the foundation for authentic sexual expression that honors rather than judges our physical selves.

Chapter 4: From Performance to Presence: Breaking Free from Sexual Scripts

Jo, a college senior, knocked tentatively on her professor's door during office hours. Once inside, she revealed her frustration: "I'm trying to use your Name-Connect-Choose process to change how I feel about hooking up, and it's not working." She explained that despite hating hookup experiences—they left her feeling anxious and "dirty" afterward—she believed casual hookups were her only pathway to eventually finding a boyfriend. Jo was attempting to override her body's clear signals of distress to conform to what she perceived as normal college dating culture. Her professor recognized that Jo was trying to use a self-awareness tool for the wrong purpose—not to connect with her authentic desires but to force herself to accept something that genuinely didn't work for her. The body's data matters. When Jo described feeling "numb" and "unable to get clean enough" after hookups, these weren't obstacles to overcome but valuable information about her boundaries and needs. We experience our healthiest sexuality when we avoid extremes of either rigidity or chaos. Sexual rigidity appears as limiting beliefs: "sex is sinful," "I am broken," or "I should want this." Sexual chaos manifests as reckless choices that disconnect us from our values. The goal is sexual integration—a state where we can relate to our desires with curiosity rather than judgment, remain present during sexual experiences, and communicate authentically with partners. Moving from performance to presence requires mindfulness—the practice of bringing attention to the present moment without judgment. Research shows that mindfulness significantly improves sexual desire for women by helping them tune into bodily sensations rather than getting caught in self-critical thoughts. Common barriers to mindfulness during sex include worrying about how we look, anxiety about pleasing a partner, trauma flashbacks, or simply being distracted by life stresses. Painful sex—which about half of women who have sex with men report experiencing and enduring—makes mindful presence impossible. Self-compassion becomes essential in this journey. When we relate to ourselves with kindness rather than criticism, we create space for authentic sexual expression. Self-compassion involves recognizing that imperfection is part of the shared human experience and bringing mindful awareness to our thoughts and feelings without harsh judgment. This approach transforms sexual "failures" into what one woman called "FGOs" (fucking growth opportunities)—experiences that, while perhaps disappointing, provide valuable data about our needs and boundaries. The shift from performance to presence culminates in a powerful mantra: "I enter into a sexual experience if, and only if, my pleasure and my safety are central features of the experience." This declaration moves us from accommodating others' expectations to honoring our own needs. When we stop performing sexuality and start embodying it authentically, we discover that being fully present—with all our quirks, preferences, and vulnerabilities—creates space for truly meaningful connection.

Chapter 5: Vulnerability and Voice: Communicating Sexual Needs with Partners

Years ago, Alexandra attempted to seduce her boyfriend with what she thought would be a sexy, spontaneous handstand against the wall. She disrobed to Joe Cocker's "You Can Leave Your Hat On," feeling like "a divine sexual goddess." Unfortunately, her gymnastics went awry when she kicked up, struck the back of the couch with her foot, and crashed headfirst into the wall, landing in "a pile of nakedness and despair." What happened next proved crucial: her boyfriend raced over, covered her with his body, held her close, and they laughed together. Rather than creating distance, this moment of vulnerability deepened their connection. This story illustrates what happens in the "space between" intimate partners—that delicate relational territory where sexual self-awareness meets partnership. Sexual experiences always involve risk, and how partners respond to each other's vulnerability shapes their bond. A self-compassionate attitude helps us navigate these moments, allowing us to be imperfect without shame. When supported by a trustworthy partner, this creates what might be called the "Sacred Trio" of sexual connection: risk, self-compassion, and trust. Research confirms that sexual satisfaction matters in relationships. Feeling sexually connected adds approximately 15-20 percent to a couple's satisfaction, while sexual problems can drain 50-70 percent of a relationship's vitality. Yet maintaining sexual connection requires navigating differences, particularly around desire. Nearly all couples experience desire discrepancy at some point—one partner wants sex more frequently than the other—and how they handle this difference significantly impacts their satisfaction. Many couples fall into a "pursuer-withdrawer" dynamic when facing desire discrepancy. The higher-desire partner pursues, feeling rejected and inadequate when rebuffed, while the lower-desire partner withdraws, feeling pressured and resentful about disappointing their loved one. Breaking this cycle requires viewing desire differences as "we" issues rather than blaming either partner. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder to address the challenge collaboratively transforms it from a battleground into an opportunity for deeper understanding. Communication about sex often feels vulnerable, yet research shows that couples who can talk openly about their sexual relationship have more satisfying sex lives. Framing conversations positively ("I love when you go right" instead of "don't go left") helps partners feel appreciated rather than criticized. Creative approaches—using apps designed for couples to share desires, writing letters, or even speaking in playful accents—can ease awkwardness when discussing sensitive topics. Perhaps most challenging is communicating about faking orgasms. Many women report faking to end uncomfortable encounters, protect partners' feelings, or appear sexually competent. Yet this miscommunication reinforces unsatisfying patterns by signaling that certain behaviors feel good when they don't. Disclosing this pattern requires courage: "I love us, and I want our lovemaking to be as fulfilling as possible. I've internalized messages that kept me from understanding I deserve to slow down and feel good. Will you work with me to make this different for us?" Vulnerability and voice go hand in hand in creating intimate relationships where both partners feel seen and valued. The courage to express needs, boundaries, and desires—paired with deep listening when partners do the same—creates the foundation for sexual connection that evolves and deepens over time.

Chapter 6: Healing Wounds: Processing Trauma and Finding Pleasure Again

Maria was sexually assaulted five years ago. Since then, she has been on a healing journey, utilizing various therapeutic tools to reclaim what trauma took from her. For the past two years, her relationship with her boyfriend Charles has become a crucible for further healing. One night while playing Scrabble, Charles playfully wrestled with Maria after she won. Though she was initially laughing, something about their body positioning suddenly triggered a trauma response. She yelled "Stop!" and began crying, her heart racing with terror. Because Maria and Charles had previously discussed what being an ally to a trauma survivor entails, Charles knew exactly what to do. He immediately stopped touching her and created physical space between them. He spoke softly in short sentences: "I'm here. It's me. You're safe." Maria was able to anchor herself in his rhythmic voice and gentle eyes, which helped her orient back to the present moment. By giving her space, he affirmed her bodily autonomy. She watched the rise and fall of his chest and matched her breathing to his. As her panic subsided, she leaned into him, now crying tears of relief rather than terror. Sexual trauma affects approximately one-third of women, with even higher rates among women of color and LGBTQ+ individuals. But beyond this direct trauma lies what therapist Judith Leavitt calls the "sexual alarm system"—adaptations women make from living in a culture where sexual violence against women is pervasive. This creates a background vigilance that can make it difficult to respond to touch with openness and excitement, even when that touch is wanted. Trauma creates a disorder of memory, removing the time stamp from painful experiences so that past and present can become confused. The healing process involves both internal work and relational support. While the survivor must lead their own journey of reclamation, a caring partner can become an invaluable ally by responding with patience, presence, and understanding rather than defensiveness when triggers arise. Emotional regulation becomes key for both partners. When a survivor experiences a flashback, their partner needs to resist the urge to take it personally or minimize what's happening. Instead, they can help by providing grounding, affirming safety, and respecting boundaries. The survivor, meanwhile, works on recognizing triggers and developing self-soothing techniques that help distinguish past from present. Trauma expert Bessel van der Kolk explains that "the critical issue is allowing yourself to know what you know. That takes an enormous amount of courage." Many survivors attempt to suppress memories and feelings, believing that no one needs to know and the trauma has no current impact. Yet pain left unattended persists, and healing begins with acknowledging what happened. The journey of reclaiming sexuality after trauma is not linear. Setbacks are normal and expected. The process requires gentleness, patience, and sometimes professional support. But healing is possible. As one trauma specialist beautifully observes, sexual violence doesn't break women—what breaks is the connection between themselves and their bodies. Healing restores that sacred connection, allowing survivors to gradually reclaim pleasure, presence, and power in their sexual experiences.

Chapter 7: Modern Love: Navigating Technology and Relationship Dynamics

Zoe and Dalia came to therapy to determine their relationship's future. Zoe wanted marriage; Dalia did not. Though Dalia explained that her resistance reflected ideological discomfort with the institution itself rather than ambivalence about committing to Zoe, Zoe struggled to hear this as anything other than personal rejection. Their dilemma reflects our complicated cultural moment where traditions are questioned, options are multiplying, and couples must navigate without clear roadmaps. Modern relationships have shifted dramatically from "role-to-role" connections (where partners fulfill predetermined functions based on gender) to "soul-to-soul" partnerships built on emotional intimacy and personal growth. Today's couples expect their relationships to foster both security and freedom, to be containers for their deepest dreams while remaining flexible enough to evolve over time. This creates both opportunities and challenges, as the entire architecture of the relationship requires ongoing negotiation rather than following established patterns. Technology has transformed how we find and maintain relationships. Dating apps have gone from stigmatized to mainstream—approximately one-third of today's marriages begin online. Yet the seemingly endless options can create a "paradox of choice" where people become indecisive and less satisfied with their selections. The consumer mentality fostered by swiping culture can make it tempting to "upgrade" at the first sign of difficulty rather than developing the vulnerability needed for deep connection. Once established, relationships face new technological complexities. A partner's response (or lack thereof) to social media posts can feel like an answer to fundamental questions like "Do I matter to you?" or "Are you with me?" Digital footprints create exponentially more points of contact that can either nurture or erode connection, making modern love particularly complicated to navigate. Sexual boundaries within relationships are also evolving. Consensual non-monogamy (CNM) is moving from margins to mainstream, challenging the dominant narrative that sexual exclusivity is the only viable relationship model. When sexual monogamy moves from default expectation to conscious choice, all couples benefit from more explicit conversations about boundaries. Whether choosing monogamy or exploring alternatives, the process of intentional decision-making helps partners understand themselves and each other more deeply. For Zoe and Dalia, resolving their impasse required examining how their individual backgrounds shaped their perspectives on marriage. Zoe, an African American woman from a wealthy, religiously conservative family, saw marriage as validation of their love. Dalia, a white woman from a working-class background and the first in her family to attend college, carried "survivor guilt" that made her resistant to embracing traditional institutions. Their healing came through recognizing these influences and creating space for authentic conversation beyond judgment. The path through modern relationship challenges requires both self-awareness and relational awareness—understanding our own needs and desires while remaining open to our partner's equally valid but potentially different experience. When couples can approach differences with curiosity rather than criticism, they discover that love is indeed "a vessel that contains both security and adventure," as therapist Esther Perel beautifully describes.

Summary

The journey to sexual self-awareness is fundamentally about liberation—moving from fear toward love, from performance toward authenticity, from silence toward voice. Throughout this exploration, we've witnessed women like Alexandra, Anjali, Renee, and Maria reclaiming their sexuality from cultural narratives that sought to silence or control it. Their stories reveal a universal truth: when we connect with our desires from the inside-out rather than accepting prescriptions from the outside-in, we discover a sexuality that is uniquely and powerfully our own. This reclamation process touches every dimension of our lives. Culturally, it means questioning messages that tie our worth to others' approval. Developmentally, it means honoring how our sexual selves evolve across our lifespan. Mentally, it requires practicing mindfulness and self-compassion instead of judgment. Physically, it involves celebrating rather than criticizing our bodies. Emotionally, it means trusting our feelings as valuable data. Relationally, it demands courage to express our needs with partners. And spiritually, it invites us to experience sexuality as a pathway to transcendence and connection. When we embrace this integrated approach, we discover that our sexuality—much like ourselves—is not meant to be confined by rigid expectations but allowed to unfold in all its beautiful complexity.

About Author

Loading...

Alexandra H. Solomon

Read more

Related Books by Alexandra H. Solomon

Loading...

Loving Bravely

Alexandra H. Solomon

Twenty Lessons of Self-discovery to Help You Get the Love You Want

★★★★☆4.2