I’m not good in bed

As sexually active women, so much pressure is put on us to be great in bed

I have noticed just how much pressure is put on us to be great in bed just by virtue of being sexually active adults.

We have to walk on stilettos, pay back that airtime advance debt, pronounce ‘Worcestershire sauce’ correctly and still be able to pull monkey styles for three rounds on a weekday!

Let me openly admit to sexual dwarfism. It’s like I can see the epitome of my sexual greatness atop the fridge, but no matter how much I thrust up and wiggle, I cannot reach it. But man, do I huff and puff and break into sweat while at it!

I could burn a heated 400 kilojoules with my eyes shut, gyrating and frowning, not really sure whether to moan or ask whether Azapo were the true liberators of our people in the Struggle.

Or even stop the guy midglory and ask if he is okay because sometimes all this sexual energy is confusing.

Sometimes I giggle midaction when I am celebrating finally nailing that one trick I googled to impress the mister. But honestly, sex is definitely not one of my best talents.

As much as I really put an effort into the practice, I just cannot master it.

There always remains a nagging wonder of just what am I really supposed to be doing on the horizontal when everything starts to get busy.

There really is not a fair chance for all of us to get a good basic grounding for such. There is an assumption that we are all sexually assertive, inclined to please. It is as if as soon as you have lost your virginity, you are suddenly tasked with delivering perpetual vigorous sessions of mind-blowing copula.

I am not one of the people who are revered for bringing the heat in the bedroom.

I still do not know why I sweat that much even. It may just be the anxiety of fumbling while the man is doing things that should earn him the Order of Ikhamanga.

Perhaps sexual prowess was only just bestowed on the lot who can dance to Durban Gqom music while safely balancing an opened bottle of alcohol in one hand and pointing at their next dance circle contender with the other hand.

I just do not possess such technical coordination.

My arid deliveries in the bedroom cannot even be attributed to body image. My boobs have been having a slow puncture for the past 13 years since I had my son, and most things are gravitating southwards, but at 35 years old, I have a great body!

I am comfortable in it and it is not a factor in my shortcomings.

Maybe the sex freak in me is still doing push-ups and waiting to unleash herself on my 40th birthday.

Whatever it is, it has sure saved me from starring in leaked home-made sex tapes.

This has steered my love life towards the inevitable need to find someone who is patient with me being a learner vixen, and comfortable with the possibility of the love of his life not giving him the best sex he has ever had.

Yes, I am not the hottest thing in bed, and it is okay! While I should be allowed to serve mediocre coitus without bearing the burden of outdoing my lover’s former conquests, I do have room for improvement. I will again take an opportunity to try out page 79 of the Kama Sutra this week.

But honestly, sex is definitely not one of my best talents

The writer says although she has been having sexual relationships for over a decade, she however cannot seem to master the art in the bedroom.