SEX. One of the most controversial topics ever.

I think sex itself, as an activity, is very natural. It’s something (that should be) done by two people who care very much about each other, at least at the moment it’s performed. It’s also something beautiful, at times almost magical, and is an activity that beats sitting around watching TV or checking your e-mails. But there are days when I prefer shopping for new boots or bags than to greet Mr. Willy LeGrande with open arms, (and legs of course) which for a length of time, agitated me quite a bit.

Sex used to be something that was very taboo to even talk about, especially within the eastern culture. I am Indonesian, which means I come from a long line of people upholding the strong eastern culture and tradition who consider sex (both the act and topic) as “dirty”, “shameful”, “sinful”, for those who were not married; “sacred”, “a secret” and “have to be discreet about it” for those who were. Yet everybody loves talking about it regardless of the – supposedly – upheld traditions. When I was a young girl, the thought of asking my parents about what sex meant, would most likely raise eyebrows and resulted in my dismissal to my room with no answer (and dessert), which would make me all the more curious about it.

In the beginning I heard about it from all the wrong sources (read: friends.) They weren’t smarter than I was, but at the time they seemed smarter and more experienced (in talking about it after peeping through a window when their older siblings watched R rated movies, not in doing the actual deed), so I trusted them completely. Stupid thing though, they were so ill-informed that I was terrified to even think of having to do it someday, as they made it sound so unpleasant and dirty.

Luckily, our family moved to New Zealand and we lived there for several years. There, we had Sex Education classes in our school and I had wiser friends who really knew what they were talking about. I also became wiser, and came to know that sex was not something dirty and disgusting, but a natural part of being human and something that was strangely exciting and wonderful (if done at the right time and age.) No more did I feel the need to ask my parents about anything to do with it.

I had my period when I was 10, which was just 5 months after we first moved to New Zealand, and I did not tell anyone about it. I bought myself some pads and carried on with life as usual. Mom didn’t find out about it until a few months after my initial period. She was surprised as to why I didn’t report the joyous occasion (she thought of my entering womanhood as a very joyous occasion, while I just thought it was a drag because I hated having to change pads every few hours and the cramps that came along with it.) I just didn’t feel the necessity to do so, plus, I already knew how to deal with it having many teachers and friends who helped me grasp the whole concept of the female reproduction system. And simply, because I thought they were much more experienced than “good old Mom.”

When mom found out about my period, she sat me down for a woman to woman talk. So I sat and listened. `You are now a young woman. And as a young woman, you cannot act like a little girl anymore. You cannot let a boy get too close to you, because it’s dangerous.’

She didn’t tell me why it was dangerous to sit near a boy or what would happen if I went ahead and sat beside a boy. In my head I laughed a little, because by then I had already known what sex was. I even understood about the consequences of unprotected sex. An older girl at school had to take a year off because she had gotten herself pregnant. But I said nothing about my newfound knowledge because I knew it would do me no good.

By the time I was eighteen and had committed some “petty crimes”, (like getting busted petting or kissing my boyfriend on the terrace when I thought mom and dad weren’t in the sitting room) mom was extremely worried about my well being, and she obviously thought that by then I had some vague idea about sex. She sat me down again one day to have another woman to woman talk.

`I know that you may now know about sex and may even be considering doing it sometime in the future (by now she knows that there was no way she could keep me a little girl forever, plus she had a friend whose 19 year old daughter Meita – a friend of mine – was knocked up when she was 17, the guy disappeared, leaving her with a baby girl that was later raised by her parents.) My advice to you is: Don’t! Don’t give in to the temptation. You have to think about it and you have to realize that sex is a sinful thing to do unless you’re married. It would bring nothing but shame and regret for the rest of your life, look at Meita. You wouldn’t want to end up like her would you? Plus, who’d want a wife who’s no longer a virgin?’

What she didn’t know was that I was already having (protected) sex, with my (then) new boyfriend of two months, who I was convinced to be my soul mate (we broke up a couple of months after that with him devastated because I went to college and met another guy I was sure to be my real soul mate.)

I never bought her whole theory of men not wanting non virgins. Simply because by then, sex wasn’t as taboo a topic as it was when I was 12. Almost all my friends had done it and many of my much older girlfriends were getting married despite not being a virgin anymore, and none of their husbands had any complaints.

During my early twenties I continued experimenting with sex but experienced a downfall of thrill over the years. What was once so exhilarating became a biological routine. A biological routine that was a mere regular pleasure rather than a series of spine-tingling episodes of ecstasy as I would much more preferred. That confirmed my worst fear: I was bored of sex!

I panicked and sought the help of my friends. This was the one thing I would definitely not ask my mom for advice. Surely I couldn’t have been bored of that, or could I? Their responses were disturbing. While I hoped for a logical enlightenment for my lack of anticipation for one-on-one action, they concluded that either I might be turning frigid or I might be questioning my sexual preferences.

That was ludicrous! I know perfectly well that I’m only attracted to men and nothing else! Well, maybe I was attracted to money and power, but men was still in the equation.

The question lingered, did I have a problem or was I just not that into sex anymore?

When I got married, (for the second time) my libido has found its own rhythm, a steady flow of increases and decreases (more often decreasing than increasing). I had a steady group of married girlfriends most of whom were older than I was; in fact, ALL of them were older than me. I asked them if they had experienced what I was experiencing. Turned out that almost all of them did and none of them panicked over it.

They told me that it was natural for women to have “short-circuits” in their sexual urges. And one friend, Cathy, said that many people have such high expectations of carnal sensation and how it’s supposed to be like, that when something like this happens, they react just like me, panic-stricken and worried. I had a sneaking suspicion that something had been wrong with me, but then glad that nothing was.

It’s been some time now that I have been able to accept that I was not going to be the face of “Wiagra” (my interpretation of Viagra for women) anymore, so I have put sex on a lower pedestal. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it anymore; it’s just that I personally think sex is overrated.

Yes, sex is quite overrated.

I have put too much emphasis and effort into it, that I have forgotten the fact that my body and mind can occasionally be tired of it and would want to have other pleasures like living.

I simply cannot understand people that are obsessed about sex, like the famous, or rather, the infamous, Hugh Heffner. I wish I can be like that; live, drink and be merry. But I’m a woman.

It’s different for us women. While men always have the desire to do it, they cannot always deliver. Women, on the other hand, can always deliver, but, sadly, don’t always have the desire to do so.