In dredging the unconscious drivers that were running me, there has been a growing personal and erotic freedom. Years ago, I had no idea how to play. I had no idea there was much more to kink than pain and pvc. Yet my ignorance and prejudices have given way to a genuine appreciation and admiration for the subtle and deep power of transformation and fun, alongside a strengthening of my personal limits and desires. Though, I had an edge around Humiliation when a practice partner said to me, “Call yourself a sex coach? When did you last have a relationship that worked?”

Sensuality can be a private world as well as a radical act.

Honesty can kill the fantasy. The truth is a savage pleasure. Is it better to know if someone doesn’t feel as deeply about us as we do them? Probably. Then we can choose to stay with some of what we’d love, or lose the little we have in search of a truer complicity.

I find old lists in half-used life planners. Sometimes there’s a satisfaction in recognising that I did do a second degree, bought a Saab convertible, went to art college and writers' residencies. I live abroad again, I finally have a blue velvet sofa. I’m going to keep writing the lists of longing. Longing motivates me. I’m such a try-hard. And then there are the things that didn’t come to fruition. Still or Yet. I have a sense that love is the reward for my effort, like there's an imaginary carrot dangled constantly, “just do this and then you’ll have that,” pact. A husband in waiting, in this life or the next? A book deal. Inner peace. Romance in Venice. They’ve been in the God Box for years. 

There's a lot of writing about narcissists. What about the other side of the equation? Every good narcissist needs supply. Not being the supply is vital. To stand back, keep out of the way of the ardour and intensity of the attention we’ve long been desiring. Otherwise, the unconscious reciprocal pact continues.

Freedom and love are possible. Just not where you expect.

How often do you ‘give’ people what they never even asked for and actually didn't want? Stop that. Check first. It’ll save time, hurt and indignation. Being an over-giver is a misnomer.

What can you say yes to with an open heart, knowing it’s not for you, that you’re free of responsibility, that you don’t have to guess? All you have to do is inwardly patrol your stated boundaries. Sometimes you’ll be bored. That's ok, it’s not about you. Sometimes you’ll enjoy it. That’s ok, it’s not about you. Sometimes you’ll be surprised. Isn't that joyful? Mostly, you’ll be relaxed. You stated your limits; no one will transgress them. Doing nothing allows the other to have their experience and you to have yours. Allow them to be different.

There’s a way of playing with consent once you’ve got the basics of who it’s for and how to feel. Brief moments of connection and touch, an increasing bravery to requests, and appreciation of gifts taken and offered. A chance to notice sensation, longing and satisfaction. Small pleasures. “May I touch your hair.  May I hold you round the waist? May I place my hand over your cock?” Doing it for you. To know how something feels and the effect it has on you. Can you feel the effects on your skin and in your body, breath, and mood? Close your eyes to notice the effect of the touch on you rather than trying to affect another, to get somewhere or turn them on. Let direct pleasure affect you. Do you like what you’ve chosen, or do you need to adjust? Be part of the experience rather than spectatoring on someone else's for crumbs of satisfaction or affirmation. Your ego loves indirect pleasure. It's totally affirming and conditioned. Nothing wrong with that, yet it's not the whole story by any means. Being in and of the experience takes trust in oneself, an undoing of what you've always done, and being willing to shift focus, recognising and valuing your own embodiment.

Safe spaces are an overpromise. What might emerge from the shadows of trauma can upend us. No matter the promise of safety, we’re not guaranteed anything from the wastelands of the subconscious. The unknown lurking in the badlands is running the show, causing us to act out, play up and create havoc with any notion that we know ourselves.

There’s a difference between intention and impact. Meaning well isn't enough.

Beauty is redemptive. Seeking it allows wonder and relaxation. Lost in rapture, safe for a moment beyond hypervigilance, the world drops away for a moment in time. In front of a stunning painting, a distant blue horizon, or turning a bend in the road, weak sunlight through the reeds after a storm. I love being stopped in my tracks, pulled out of my thoughts and reminded to be glad.

Conscious objectification can be useful in getting exactly what you’d love. To be given permission and consent to objectify, to have willing access to your desire, is a gift. So, allow your inner control freak. Adjust, be pernickety, pick clothing, perfection and posture with clear intention. See where it takes you. I imagine a Sisyphean task of unsustainability and misery over time. But for a few minutes or hours of getting what you long for, knock yourself out.

Each day, I use the Osho tarot deck. In the morning to see the theme of the day. In the evening, to feel the gift of the day. For my visitors, we pull cards to see what they arrive with and what they’ll leave with. The simple ritual of sharing this feels unifying and insightful in the rhythm of our days. The first card I ever pulled from my deck was The Lovers. Today it was No-thingness.

Three minutes is a great time to try something out and not get stuck in it. There’s time to change my mind, adjust, refine, and redefine. Time to not know, space to decide, time to wait for an impulse. Time to hear yes and no and scan memory, body and longing. And there’s a moment when I finally feel what I wanted to feel and couldn’t exactly know or express ahead of time. And then to set the timer again. And again. And again.

I’m inordinately interested in prevailing fantasy and fixation. The fixation is rarely the thing itself. What essence or qualities does this ideal represent? Rather than getting stuck in wanting the one thing, understanding the qualities that the fixation is seeking to fulfil, encourages introspection, change and embodiment. Follow the fixation. Make it bigger. See what lure it really holds, or is it an empty vessel?

What are your dealbreakers? Why would you walk out of a relationship? If you know, it’s easier to go and be true to your own word. Even if it means letting someone else down, or it takes a while, leaving is inevitable. Otherwise, there's a sense of feeling eternally compromised or disingenuous. And to make sure your dealbreakers are worth it. Why lose something wonderful for a fraction of idealism that may never even be realised?  Otherwise, the dealbreakers wander along with you, unacted upon, wreaking perfectionism on whatever gratitude might be possible.

Surely taking a sexuality journey is a frivolous extravagance. That worries me. I’m not one for thinking we’re going to heal the world until all beings are enlightened, astonishing though that would be. Initially, it is a personal voyage, so why does this seeking for better matter? When I ask myself what the common problems of relationship or intimacy are - not knowing what to want yet knowing there’s something more, the boredom of habitual unrewarding sex, mismatched desire, lack of relational honesty, intimacy starvation - there’s a relevance and immediacy of why it matters a great deal. In everyday kindness, existence and connection, there’s a compassionate love underpinning the clumsiness.

I was a sex coach for 10 years before I found my thing of hosting The Sex Lectures & supporting UK Sexological  Bodywork. Yet back when I first qualified, I wanted to be as successful as my mentor appeared to be. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Striving never stops. My energy wanted purpose, and to DO something, anything, grasping for recognition through others' versions of success, instead of the patience of allowing my own to emerge. 

I have great regard for men who explore the conscious sexuality field. Straight men often want to work with feminine energy and avoid working with other men in the room.  I can see why, wanting softness and being scared of what women are scared of, the unspoken threat of intrusion or male violence. Scared of themselves, the brittle mirror and in need of nurture. Unsurprising. Yet this puts too much pressure on the feminine to heal the loss and wrath of men. To keep them from jumping off bridges, disappearing into the gym or getting wasted for want of connection. It’s too much to put the pressure solely on the feminine. So, how about you help each other out of the masculine mess? I admire the men who hold mens’ groups, who share new ways of being male in a confusing world, allowing vulnerability and brotherhood as the place to share without conflating the longing for intimacy, understanding, acceptance and softness. Gone are the days of “you’ll be alright, mate”. It’s not enough. Respect for distance gives way to expression of emotion, listening and letting the walls down. To feel safe to open up. The longing may not go away, but the support becomes diffuse.