I never thought exploring desire and sexual voyeurism would begin with the sound of my roommate having sex on the other side of the wall...
Last Saturday night my roommate came home with a guy. They looked tipsy. Flushed and loose. I was on the couch, half-watching TV, half-watching them. I could tell right away just by how their bodies moved in sync from the front door to her bedroom: they were going to have sex.
My girlfriend wasn’t home, so it was just the three of us in the apartment: me, my roommate, and this dude she was about to hook up with. We live in an older building where the walls are thin, and our bedrooms share one of them. So yes, I heard them. And not just because of our shared wall. I listened.
At first, I felt turned on. I’ve always been drawn to the sound of pleasure, especially vocalization. There’s something deeply erotic to me in hearing someone surrender like that. I want that aliveness, that no holding back. I want it for myself. Is it in me? Maybe I question it because I spent most of my life pretending to orgasm with men.
I thought about what position they were in, I passed judgement on the guy… “he was so squishy. Does she like that?” Then I felt disgusted with myself. Ashamed maybe. But not for long and I thought, “Fuck that. Go ahead girl!”
Listening to them have sex sent my brain in a good, but confusing, direction. I found myself zeroing in on her sounds. Not just any moaning, but the shape of her pleasure, how she held it in or let it out. I noticed how quiet she was, with little bursts of intensity. Like she was trying to be discreet but couldn’t quite contain it. That restraint made it hotter. It also made me wonder: was she faking it? Did she cum? What would I sound like if I fully let go during sex? Have I ever?
And somewhere in the middle of all that, I found myself thinking about my own sexuality. Listening through the wall wasn’t just sexual voyeurism; it was also a way of exploring desire I hadn’t admitted to myself. I thought about how long it’s been since I had sex with a man and whether I ever want to again. The truth is I don’t know. I really don’t.
But what I do know is this - I’m not willing to keep having sex that leaves me feeling disconnected. I want more. To know what I like and feel what I like. Where's the confidence to be selfish and bring that selfishness into intimacy?? I want to create something with my partner. Something real and playful and curious! I have no fucking idea how to do that.
Listening through the wall wasn’t just voyeurism, it was a reminder that I’m searching. That I get to search.
She texted the next day to apologize. There was nothing wrong with what she did, so what would I even say?
♡ Anna
Hi! I’m Anna.
Welcome to this little corner of my sexual exploration. I’m glad you found your way here 🥰 I’m in my 30s, endlessly curious, and discovering parts of myself I’ve kept tucked away.
There’s this quote I read that said something like, “the people and moments life puts in front of you often reveal the places you’re not yet free.” Aaaand it’s happening. So, I guess I’m doing this. I’m going to share a lot of very personal shit. With other people. I’ll (hopefully) laugh my ass off, have the best orgasms of my life, and also probably panic and be sad. But I’m reminding myself it’s a privilege to get to explore things that fascinate me.
After many good chats with James, he floated this idea - me writing about the stuff that makes the three of us (and a LOT of people) lean in: sexuality, desire, intimacy, and relationships. The kinds of topics that tug at you and don’t let go. And honestly? I can’t stop thinking about it.
But, I’ve never flexed this creative muscle before. I’m not a professional. I have no idea exactly what this will be or how it will evolve. Am I going to be too much? Is this too depressing? Boring? Am I a bad writer?? It feels like I’m at the beginning of something. Or maybe the middle. Some awakening? Who fucking knows. The first conversation about this left me feeling like an imposter, fumbling to find my footing. Which, I guess, makes sense. But who cares. It’s my story.
Its energy is charged in a way that’s terrifyingly exciting. I want to feel playful in it. To feel desire without all this anxiety. To stop making it so serious. Sex should be fun, dammit! But the unknowns don’t help. They kind of send me spiraling.
It’s like part two of what happened during my separation and divorce. Back then, I’d only tapped into the first layer of whatever this is. I was in crisis mode: leaving my marriage, exploring with a woman for the first time, realizing I needed space to figure myself out.
That time was a mix of novelty and dread. A complete dopamine rush from breaking every norm of my old life. The sex was amazing, yes, but more because it was new and different and happening in the middle of my world falling apart. Then I moved, told myself I’d stay single, and there would be space to figure out who I was as a sexual and relational being.
But about a year in, I met my now-girlfriend. Then it got serious. At first, she was away a lot for work and the cycle of new and exciting continued. I never really had that in-between phase..hooking up, experimenting, being on my own long enough to deepen introspection. I don’t know if I need to unpack more of my trauma with men. To experiment with other women. And maybe with men. I’m not sure.
Now, three and a half years into this relationship, the newness has worn off. She’s home more. We’re more comfortable, more in routine. My life is more stable. And maybe that’s why all this is surfacing. There’s finally room for it.
The problem is, the energy feels a lot like it did during my separation: anxious, restless, and urgent. I don’t want to live there again. But I do want to do this work. To shed whatever internal shame or constraints are holding me back. I want a better sex life and deeper intimacy with myself and with her.
I want to explore together. To talk about it. To actually do it. But I’m not sure she feels the same depth of curiosity as I do. That scares me. And yep, you bet I cried about it in therapy last week.
Still, I think the beauty and the growth are in the journey. I’m trying not to need it to make perfect sense. I’m sitting with all the feelings. Riding the wave of this, however it unfolds 🤷🏻♀️
I hope something here resonates. I hope you take what you need. Happy reading.
♡ Anna
