Where did the sexy go?

There's nothing more embarrassing than being a sex educator who's lost her libido.

Hi, friends! It’s Thien-Kim, romance author and sex educator. After I closed Bawdy Bookworms nine months ago, I’ve been hinting at a new project. Well, it’s finally here. You’re receiving this email because you subscribed to my Bawdy Bookworms newsletter or my author newsletter. I’ve switched platforms to Substack because it’s more community focused. Welcome!

If you haven’t already, please take a few minutes and fill out my new reader survey.

If you look at my life through the filter of social media, you’d think, That woman must have a lot of orgasms.

The evidence seems irrefutable: I’m a sex educator. I write spicy romances. I founded and successfully ran Bawdy Bookworms, an award-winning subscription box that paired sex toys with diverse romance novels.

This vibrator necklace is a terrific conversation starter. Do you want me to write a review on it?

In addition to all the leftover stock from my business, I house my personal sex toy collection in plastic tubs tucked behind the sequined jumpsuits hanging in my closet. My nightstand houses a haphazard assortment of vibrators and a tangle of charging cords. Every time I dig around my underwear drawer, I spot some neglected toys that need to be tucked into storage. Oh, and a couple of that was accidentally shoved behind my ratty pajamas and there might a box under the bed?

After 25 years slinging dildos and being a sex educator, it's hard not to have a few favorites. My pleasure pantry grew quickly since I also tested products for review and consideration for my subscription boxes. Let’s not even talk about my lube collection (which deserves its own post).

Somehow, somewhere in the last two—three?—years my sexual desire waned. It disappeared for weeks, or even worse, months at a time.

There's nothing more embarrassing than being a sex educator who's lost her libido.

Admitting to my long-term lack of desire feels like I'm failing you. Like I'm a chef that can no longer cook. Technically I can still cook, but the end result is best tossed in the trash.

If

Emily Nagoski

—one of the top experts in sexuality and best-selling author—can discuss her lack of desire in the New York Times, I can too. Until today, I've only admitted it to my partner (who's been very understanding) and the closest of my friends.

Today I’m coming clean.

I’ve “lost” my sexy.

I’ve lost the ability to easily find the pleasure I took for granted—both alone and with my partner.

As frustrated as I’ve been, I haven’t given up.

I’m determined to get my sexy back but in my own way. I’m not a forty-something year old heroine in a movie or tv show who suddenly has a wardrobe makeover and finds multiple partners in order to get my sexy back. There’s nothing wrong with any of those things. They’re not for me.

I spent years curating my wardrobe for my plus-sized body. I’m not tossing it out. My partner of 27 years makes me happy. As a demisexual, the idea of finding multiple partners is way more energy than I’m willing to expend.

I started this Substack to share my journey with you because our society doesn’t talk about sex and pleasure enough. Especially for women in the forties like me (and older, too).

As a Vietnamese American woman, I’ve kept my sex life private because Asian American women are exoticized and objectified. I won’t tell you how many Vietnam War vets have hit on me since I was sixteen years old. I felt safer holding details close whenever I taught workshops or extolling the features of the latest vibrator.

I know I’m not alone in this missing desire and ability to orgasm. When friends hear about my challenges, they’re relieved that they’re not alone.

It’s time to take our pleasure back.

For so long, I’ve equated pleasure with orgasm.

We’re taught that sex isn’t complete until both/all partners orgasm. Even if I don’t say it directly, I’ve implied this when I taught classes on finding your perfect vibrator or sex toy. (I no longer prioritize reaching the Big O when I teach.) I’ve even perpetuated this in my romance novels because my characters come every time they have sex.

For a goal oriented person like me to have a hard time “completing” my pleasure, it feels like failure. My Type-Asian self gets twitchy. It’s worse than receiving an A minus on my report card.

It’s time to change our binary thinking. There’s no right way to approach pleasure or sex because we’re individuals.

Pleasure should be about connecting with our bodies and emotions and how they intertwine. And if we choose to share this experience with others, pleasure is about connecting with our partners on an intimate level.

This vibrator died 2 years ago and it’s not longer available. I still miss it.

How do we get our sexy back?

We’re humans—not a math problem to be solved. There isn’t a simple or single solution for learning what feels good. Even when we do know what those things are, they can change.

For a while I blamed my favorite vibrator dying for blocking my orgasmic flow. In the past year and a half, I convinced myself that if I found the right vibrator, it would solve my orgasm problem.

Spoiler: it didn’t. I have a graveyard of vibrators that I need to dust off and put in storage.

Turns out it’s not the toys I need to work on. It’s myself.

I’m reframing what pleasure means to me and in my relationship. I’m exploring what feels good and what doesn’t. Now that I’m perimenopausal, my body doesn’t respond the way it did when I was in my twenties and thirties.

I freaking miss my orgasms. Yes, orgasms aren’t the end all of pleasure, but they feel damn good and relieve stress. I want as many as them as possible but not as my main goal when it comes to sexual pleasure.

So how will I get my sexy back? I don’t know. I’m on this journey with an open mind. The most important thing is that I prioritize pleasure. Make it a priority in my self-care practice. I’ve spent too much of my life prioritizing taking care of the people in my life over my own self-care. No more.

Support my work for the cost of one bubble tea a month.

What to expect on this Substack

I have grand plans for this newsletter, but I’m in the middle of revisions for my third novel so let’s keep expectations realistic. Here’s what I hope to share with you at once a weekish:

• I’ll talk about sex and pleasure because those are topics I love. I’ll also talk about writing pleasure both on a personal level and in fiction.

• I miss reviewing sex toys because there’s so many fun and exciting developments in the industry. I haven’t decided if these will be available to paid subscribers only.

• Once revisions are turned in, I want to provide journaling prompts for those who want to explore what pleasure means to them.

Your turn: what do you want to see in this newsletter?

If you want to support this my writing and this newsletter, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Thank you!

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