

When I think of the most traumatic stories one can experience, breakups are among the firsts that come to mind. Losing someone that we love can become the source of such a wrenching pain, it draws an indelible trace on our hearts and leaves us changed forever. As bizarre as it may seem, breakup stories are my favorites to write. It's true that they involve a lot of darkness and negativity that the world would gladly pass on. But the reason I find it essential to tell these stories is that they involve the darkness and negativity that most of us go through, yet often refuse to talk about because of fear.
Fear of being judged, fear of being misunderstood, fear of being alone...sometimes we even fear talking about a breakup because it'd mean that we acknowledge and accept the fact that the relationship is over.
For this particular reason, I recently asked four women* about the worst ways they've been broken up with with the intent to share their stories on xoNecole—I wanted to show you that alone and misunderstood is something that you, who's reading this, will never be. Indeed, there'll always be someone out there going through the same things that you're going through. There'll always be someone experiencing your pain. In fact, what you're experiencing is called life, and life is something that happens to every one of us.
Sharing stories you can relate to isn't the sole purpose of this article, though. What was also important to me was to show you that each of these ladies has somehow found a way to bounce back after hitting rock bottom. Each woman was able to find the good in goodbye. Each was able to find joy and glow again. These stories are reminders that no matter how low you may feel, eventually, you'll bounce back too.
*Names have been withheld for the ladies to maintain their anonymity. Pseudonyms have been used so that the ex-lovers could maintain their privacy.
I Moved To Another State For Him & He Dumped Me Soon After
Shutterstock
*Thomas and I met through mutual friends. He's always been pretty upfront about his attraction and desire to get to know me and I wasn't against it. We'd gotten the opportunity to get together (with our friends) on several occasions and I enjoyed our conversations; I thought that he was a cool and funny guy. When he and I began to date exclusively, we did so for almost two years. Within this timeframe, we were serious enough for our families to meet as well as to discuss the serious steps that we wanted to take together as a couple. The first big step, we agreed, was to move from Ohio to Atlanta, GA, where he's from.
At the beginning of our relationship, our similarities, the connection that we had, the way we clicked...the feeling that I was getting from it all was that "we" were too good to be true. But a couple of months in, it became obvious that I'd simply crossed paths with a good person—my person.
Or so I thought.
Thomas was in his last year of law school when I started preparing for our move. Well, it wasn't really our move, it was more my move. I'd decided that, in order to establish myself as well as my professional career over there, I'd move before Thomas graduated so that I could take the time and space I needed to do so. Three months before the big day, what I hadn't noticed was uncertainty at the time began to settle in. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He'd ask me. "Maybe you can wait, just so we can move together?" Neither he nor I were the kind to let doubt creep in during moments or conversations like these. My soul inevitably perceived his words as him looking out for me, not wanting me to go through this on my own while he'd still be stuck in school, unable to protect me should anything happen.
I believe the moment I started feeling that something was off was when I was offered a job in Atlanta. I noticed a significant gap between both our levels of excitement; he wasn't as thrilled as I was. On top of that, there was the fact that, days later, he didn't come to help me move out of my apartment.
My gut feeling, which I was trying my best to ignore on that day, told me that it wasn't normal. Apparently, my cousin didn't think it was either. Being a man himself, I remember him advising me to only move if I wanted to—he, too, was getting a strange feeling from my man's absence.
The moment everything turned upside down came two weeks later, as we were driving to visit an apartment for me. I'd temporarily moved in with my grandmother and was therefore looking for my own place. Since I'd landed in Atlanta, I'd been hanging out with Thomas—who was there to visit—and his family. Despite the good times that we were having, I'd noticed a shift in his attitude, and some things started adding up. All of which started giving me an uneasy feeling. So uneasy that at some point, I felt drawn to ask: "Do you still want to be in this relationship?"
Image by Shutterstock
"No," he said. "There are things that I don't like about you which I feel you'll never change because this is just who you are. And the truth is, I don't see myself married to someone like you."
This whole car conversation was a gut punch. I was furious—and extremely sad at the same time. I'd move to Atlanta for a very specific reason, him, and he was bluntly showing me how huge the mistake I'd just done was. He left me. I found myself isolated in a new city that had broken its promise for a future filled with love and which then lost all its appeal.
Both physiologically and psychologically, having my heart broken changed a lot of things: I lost thirty pounds in the matter of a month, and navigating life was very painful. Later finding out that he'd been cheating on me didn't help. The only way for me to get over Thomas, I figured, was to run away. As far as possible. So, I used my connections. I called one of my friends who always told me to feel free to reach out if I was ever looking for a job and he did all he could to help me pave a way out of Atlanta.
The distance, time, having something to do career- and purpose-wise, meeting new people, allowing myself to fall in love again is the medicine that helped me fix my broken heart.
Over the years, I became open to receiving feedback from the men I was dating. Some of them pointed out the same flaws in me which eventually made me realize that I was probably not the easiest person Thomas had to deal with. No excuse for how he did what he did; he should have broken up with me. He just should have done it differently. All in all, my breakup with Thomas was the catalyst for me to grow up and learn how to take full ownership of the role I play in my relationships instead of just blaming the other person.
Our New Year Resolution Talk Led To The End Of Our Relationship
Shutterstock
I believe that human beings fall in love three times during their lifetime. The first time, obviously, is our first attempt at love. We tend to believe that we'll spend the rest of our life with that person—which may happen—but basically, this is mainly the first experience. Then comes our second love: the hardest. It's the love that teaches us about ourselves and changes us at our core. And finally, the third love, which is supposed to be our happily ever after.
*Dorian was my second love. Had I not experienced life with him, I wouldn't be the woman I am today. I wouldn't have been able to know exactly what I want in a relationship, I'd still be insecure and trying to find somebody to fill the void.
When I was introduced to Dorian, I was still dating someone. Funny enough, the work friends that we had in common and who wanted me to meet him believed that my boyfriend at the time wasn't right for me, so they insisted for me to hang out with them all so that Dorian and I could get to know each other. To make a long story short, Dorian didn't impress me at all in the beginning, although I did think that he was a cool guy. With that said, because we shared the same workplace, we got to spend a lot of time together, and, eventually, we built a bond. A bond that I must admit rapidly became ambiguous as, even though Dorian didn't impress me when I first met him, I grew to like him enough to break up with the guy I was dating.
Our relationship wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, though. We loved each other deeply, indeed, but because we both had a lot of growing up to do emotionally, it didn't take long before we somehow began tearing each other down. As I said, I was insecure—and he was too. He didn't know how to express himself, so he would often project his insecurities on me. As for me, I kept some parts of my life before him to myself because I feared he would reject me. The lack of trust is something that truly affected him.
One day into that new year, we agreed that, after being together for almost four years, it was time to start off on a clean slate. We spoke a lot on the morning of New Year's Day. However, when I felt safe enough to finally share my truth with him, the conversation took a turn that I did not expect. I thought he'd be understanding and that he'd give me his support. Instead, he completely blew up on me—and put an end to our story.
Losing my best friend isn't the way I expected the first day of 2019 to go. Generally, New Year's Day is supposed to be a little happier than that. At worst, meant to recover from a strong hangover from the night before. But being broken up with? I wasn't prepared for that.
The days that followed were terrible. I felt as though I had nobody to turn to anymore when things turned bad. Back in the day, I was diagnosed with high-functioning depression and panic disorder. Dorian was the only one who'd seen me have panic attacks and the only one who actually tried to help me overcome that. He used to be my rock—and now I was left to deal with life on my own. Until I remembered that this is what therapy is actually for.
The first four times I saw my therapist, all she heard me talk about was [my relationship with] Dorian. I was going through a roller coaster of emotions and had the hardest time grieving. But once the whole topic of "us" was covered, it was then time to shift the focus of the conversation on me. Me, my feelings, the reason why my love for him was so strong, the necessity for my well-being to move on, and my inabilities to let go.
The most defining lessons that I learned while going to therapy are, one, although my love for Dorian was real, the reason it grew so big was that it came from a place of self-doubt. I was dealing with self-esteem issues and was unconsciously depending on him to fix me.
However, the cure to our problems can't be found in other people. They must be found within. If you are to love someone, it's because that person adds to your life, meaning you're already whole all by yourself. Two, things start getting better from the moment you decide that they will.
My separation from Dorian forced me to level up to a higher version of myself. When I started elevating, taking some distance, I began seeing the situation from a whole other point of view. I was able to witness the bigger picture and as soon as it happened, I knew I'd just been provided with all the evidence I needed to believe that, in the end, I was better off on my own. At least during that season of my life.
He Broke Up With Me Through A Text & Took Off To Africa
Shutterstock
Until he decided to abruptly end our relationship through text and take off to Africa right after pressing 'send', *Cameron and I dated for a year. Our story was special. We'd known each other for approximately 10 years before we started dating; it was the kind of love story you see in Hallmark movies. You know when the man has the longest crush on his friend but she has no idea, although she has a lot of love for him as well. And then, the timing of their respective love life never gives them the chance to explore what they don't know exists between them until, 10 years later, singleness finally finds them both at the same time. Yes, it was that kind of romance.
The both of us together formed a great pair; we had the same sense of humor, had a strong connection, traveling was one of our favorite activities to do together…
I couldn't say that our relationship wasn't healthy—if anything, we were best friends who were romantically involved and there have never been any signs of a red flag in sight. This is probably why the breakup caught me so off-guard; everything was fine.
However, when I visited him in Boston that time I had no idea it would be the last—I'm from New York; we were in a long-distance relationship—I noticed a shift in his energy. He was strangely acting as though my every move, not to say my presence as a whole, bothered him. I couldn't pinpoint what it was that I did or said that put him in such a mood. Of course, he wouldn't tell me either—later after the breakup, he admitted that his behavior had nothing to do with me and was in fact due to the struggles he was going through at the time. That was the most uncomfortable I've ever felt around him—and frustrated because he'd asked me to come only to make me feel unwelcome in the end.
Eventually, the time finally came for me to travel back home and get back in my own space and to my own routine. His bad mood had faded a bit before I left, but my senses were telling me that something was still off. And indeed, as well all know, intuition never lies.
No more than 24 hours after I left Boston, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a text from him, a goodbye text. I was at work going through a roller coaster of emotions while reading all these paragraphs that he'd written. So many words simply to tell me that he didn't want to be with me anymore and that, on top of everything, he was about to board a plane to Africa.
It was hurtful. Not so much the breakup, but his behavior. You know a person for so long, you have this built-in trust with him and then, he lets you down... It's hurtful. It makes you question everything, especially who can you trust if you couldn't even trust the person you thought you knew so well? I debated whether or not it was worth responding to his text for a week. After endlessly writing, erasing, and rewriting my response, I ultimately got it off my chest. I had to.
Sometimes, people will tell you to "kill them with silence." While it's a wise thing to do, I believe that there are some situations where you must stick up for yourself. That was one of those for me.
Image by Shutterstock
You see, long-distance relationships come with a lot of sacrifices, whether it's time, money, or [something] else. During that weekend, the sacrifices that I made weren't considered which was very disrespectful, so I had to speak up for myself and show him that what he did wasn't right, nor was it fair.
All in all, it was the worst way I've been broken up with, but I'm happy to say that it didn't shatter me. Quite the contrary, it made me realize what he was capable of; his exit was so big and intense, I couldn't go past it. And focusing on that instead of all the reasons why I loved him opened the way for me to heal and move on quite quickly. I must also admit that the timing couldn't have been better for it happened at a moment in my life where I was finding myself at an intersection. I'd just graduated from college, I was being presented with tons of opportunities, I could decide to do whatever I wanted to do, become whoever I wanted to become; the only one I'd need to look after was me.
A month or so later, I received another text from him, this time saying that he missed me. "I get it," I replied. "I'd miss me too."
After Fake Proposing To Me, He Confessed That He Wanted To See Other People. “People” Included His Homeboy.
Image by Shutterstock
Have you ever found yourself in a relationship that you initially didn't want, yet you ended up the most hurt when it ended? That's exactly what happened to me with *Devin, the most toxic spiritual encounter I've ever had in my life.
I met Devin at a bookstore located in Flint, MI, where he happened to work. My spiritual advisor introduced us. Devin was different from all the other men I'd met before. He was this fine, chocolate man with big almond-shaped brown eyes. He wore his hair like a Black nerd—but a sexy Black nerd. He was nothing like the men I'd dealt with before.
Somehow, that bookstore became my new coworking space. I'd go there to get some work done and whenever he had some free time, Devin would sit with me to help me and give me new ideas for my projects. I remember we'd also talk about entrepreneurship—he was trying to get his feet wet in public relations—and spirituality. The best part was that we started by building a friendship by connecting intellectually, which made him even more attractive to me.
With all of that being said, believe it or not, I wasn't trying to date him. At the time, a relationship wasn't part of my priorities at all; all I wanted to focus on was school and my future. But I'd be lying if I told you that the latter stopped me from accepting his invitation to take me out on a date.
If anything, this man whom I considered my friend made me feel safe. I was comfortable with him, comfortable enough to completely allow him into my life. By that, I mean allowing him to spend time with me at my place and sometimes stay overnight, plus introducing him to my family.
After some time, though, his actions began reminding me of a manipulation technique called love bombing. He would overwhelm me with love, shower me with gifts, and would become passive-aggressive when he'd hear me say that I wasn't ready to commit to him. The times he visited me at my place, I noticed, he'd leave some of his stuff around, probably as a way to mark his territory. In all honesty, the situation began giving me a strange feeling, I wasn't at ease. But my friends kept insisting that I was overthinking it. In their eyes, Devin was only a good man and they maintained that I should just accept receiving his love.
Eventually, spending so much time together led us to become more intimate. Not because I wanted to, but because I felt giving myself to him was the right thing to do as he'd been such a gentleman to me—and according to other people, I'd been so hard on him.
I'll never forget that night when I saw a Black figure leave my room as he was getting off of me. Immediately, I knew that something had changed within me spiritually-speaking. It was like I'd just lost my mind.
From the moment we had sex, we created the strongest soul tie. I couldn't get rid of him, even in spite of the many signs that I received from God urging me to run away. If I felt safe in his presence before, being involved with him then made me feel depressed. I was also sure that he'd brought the spirit of pestilence into my home, added to the fact that I found myself at the hospital quite a few times because of ruptured cysts and twisted ovaries. One night, as I was dealing with my suicidal thoughts while on my way back from work, a deer suddenly hit my car. The accident shook me so much, I knew it wouldn't take any more signs for me to understand that it was time to save myself. With a lot of difficulties, I ultimately found the strength to tell him that we were over.
Fast forward to several months later, Devin reached out to me again. He was being very apologetic and told me that he wanted us to meet up. I know I shouldn't have but I agreed.
At the time I was still really suppressing and dishonoring my intuition. Somehow, I began questioning whether I'd made the right decision when I left. I thought that maybe I was really missing out on something, so I gave him another chance.
Soon after Valentine's Day—that he celebrated with his new homeboy, whom he'd met during the time we were broken up because I was out of town—he came over to my house. It was a sweet moment because we hadn't seen each other in a long time. And at some point during the night, he pronounced some words that sounded a lot like a proposal to me. "If I was to propose to you, would you marry me?" he asked. Although I'd said that I didn't want to commit to him before, the fact that life seemed to keep bringing us back together despite our arguments and disagreements, I was then convinced that he was my soulmate. So, with a glowing heart, ready to hand him my hand, I said, "Yes, I would."
Shutterstock
Until, Devin flipped the script on me. Immediately, he admitted that he simply wanted to hear what I'd respond, which was far different from what he'd imagined because to him, it was clear that we weren't a good match in the end. He also briefly mentioned his desire to see other people. Other people that, from my understanding and to my greatest surprise, included the man he spent Valentine's Day with.
If there was one lesson to learn from my story, it'd be to never doubt the signs that God is sending you. I was upset at myself for not listening, also very angry because choosing to get involved with him was similar to choosing to abandon myself.
One of the ways that I found to bounce back from this emotional deception was to get back to my roots, to the essence of who I am. I moved back to my hometown, started spending more time with my family, and my childhood friends. I went back to visit the places that held cheerful memories and made it a priority to do more of the things that made me happy. On the bright side, however, even if this whole experience destroyed me inside, it was the catalyst that allowed me to live my dream to write a book and become an author. All of which has shown me that, if you let them, major breakdowns can actually lead you to the biggest breakthroughs.
Are you a member of our insiders' squad? Join us in the xoTribe Members Community today!
Featured image by Shutterstock
- Signs You Should Break Up - xoNecole: Women's Interest, Love ... ›
- Are Closure Conversations Necessary After A Break-Up? - xoNecole ... ›
- 8 Valid Reasons To Break Off An Engagement - xoNecole: Women's ... ›
- The Survival Guide To Break Up Season - xoNecole: Women's ... ›
- Signs He Wants You To Break Up With Him - xoNecole: Women's ... ›
- How Long Does It Take To Get Over A Breakup? - xoNecole: Women's Interest, Love, Wellness, Beauty ›
Adrian Marcel On Purpose, Sacrifice, And The 'Signs Of Life'
In this week's episode of xoMAN, host Kiara Walker talked with R&B artist Adrian Marcel, who opened up, full of heart and authenticity, about his personal evolution. He discussed his days transitioning from a young Bay Area singer on the come-up to becoming a grounded husband and father of four.
With honesty and introspection, Marcel reflected on how life, love, and loss have shaped the man he is today.
On ‘Life’s Subtle Signals’
Much of the conversation centered around purpose, sacrifice, and listening to life’s subtle signals. “I think that you really have to pay attention to the signs of life,” Marcel said. “Because as much as we need to make money, we are not necessarily on this Earth for that sole purpose, you know what I mean?” While he acknowledged his ambitions, adding, “that is not me saying at all I’m not trying to ball out,” he emphasized that fulfillment goes deeper.
“We are here to be happy. We are here [to] fulfill a purpose that we are put on here for.”
On Passion vs. Survival
Adrian spoke candidly about the tension between passion and survival, describing how hardship can sometimes point us away from misaligned paths. “If you find it’s constantly hurting you… that’s telling you something. That’s telling you that you’re going outside of your purpose.”
Marcel’s path hasn’t been without detours. A promising athlete in his youth, he recalled, “Early on in my career, I was still doing sports… I was good… I had a scholarship.” An injury changed everything. “My femur broke. Hence why I always say, you know, I’m gonna keep you hip like a femur.” After the injury, he pivoted to explore other careers, including teaching and corporate jobs.
“It just did not get me—even with any success that happened in anything—those times, back then, I was so unhappy. And you know, to a different degree. Like not just like, ‘I really want to be a singer so that’s why I’m unhappy.’ Nah, it was like, it was not fulfilling me in any form or fashion.”
On Connection Between Pursuing Music & Fatherhood
He recalled performing old-school songs at age 12 to impress girls, then his father challenged him: “You can lie to these girls all you want, but you're really just lying to yourself. You ain't growing.” That push led him to the piano—and eventually, to his truth. “Music is my love,” Marcel affirmed. “I wouldn’t be a happy husband if I was here trying to do anything else just to appease her [his wife].”
Want more real talk from xoMAN? Catch the full audio episodes every Tuesday on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, and don’t miss the full video drops every Wednesday on YouTube. Hit follow, subscribe, and stay tapped in.
Featured image by xoNecole/YouTube
Sometimes I get asked the same question, often enough, that I’m like, “It’s time to address this on a larger platform,” — and for, whatever the reason, as of late, folks have been asking me what different sex acts mean.
No, not from the perspective of positions or techniques. What they’ve basically wanted to know is if making love, having sex, and f-cking are simply different words to describe the same thing or if there truly is something deeper with each one.
Let me start this off by saying that of course, to a certain extent, the answer is subjective because it’s mostly opinion-rather-than-fact driven. However, I personally think that sex is hella impactful, which is why I hope that my personal breakdown will at least cause you to want to think about what you do, who you do it with, and why, more than you may have in the past.
Because although, at the end of the day, the physical aspects of making love, having sex, and f-cking are very similar, you’d be amazed by how drastically different they are in other ways…at the very same time.
Making Love
Back when I wrote my first book, I wasn’t even 30 at the time and still, one of the things that I said in it is, I pretty much can’t stand the term “make love.” Way back then, I stated that sex between two people who truly love each other and are committed for the long haul, when it comes to what they do in the bedroom, it’s so much more about CELEBRATING love than MAKING it. To make means “to produce” or “to bring into existence;” to celebrate means “to commemorate,” “to perform” or “to have or participate in a party, drinking spree, or uninhibited good time.”
The act of sex, standing alone? It can’t make love happen and honestly, believing otherwise is how a lot of people find themselves getting…got.
What do I mean? Tell me how in the world, you meet a guy, talk to him for a few weeks, don’t even know his middle name or where he was born and yet somehow, you choose to call the first time you have sex with him (under those conditions) “making love.” You don’t love him. You don’t know him well enough to love him. He doesn’t love you either (for the same reason). And yet you’re making love? How sway? Oh, but let that sex be bomb and those oxytocin highs might have you tempted to think that’s what’s happening — and that is emotionally dangerous. And yes, I mean, literally.
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times before, that one of the reasons why I like that the Bible defines sex between a husband and his wife is by using the word “know” (Genesis 4:1) is because, well, I think that is what celebrating love is all about — we know each other well enough to know that we love each other, we know each other well enough to know that we aren’t going anywhere, and that knowing is what makes us want to celebrate that union by getting as close to one another and bringing as much physical pleasure to each other as we possibly can…as often as absolutely possible.
To me, that is what the peak of physical intimacy is all about — and the people who choose to use the term “make love,” it should be seen through this type of lens. When this type of mental and emotional bond comes together via each other’s bodies, they are amplifying love, enjoying love, embracing love.
Making it, though? Chile, the love has already been made. Sex is just the icing on the cake.
Having Sex
A few nights ago, I found myself rewatching this movie called Four of Hearts (which you can currently view on yep, you guessed it: Tubi). It’s about two married couples — one that is in an open marriage and another that isn’t although they somehow thought that sharing a night with the other couple would be a good idea (chile). Anyway, as one of the partners found themselves getting low-key sprung, the one they fell for said in one of the scenes, “It wasn’t a connection. It was just sex.” JUST. SEX.
Listen, when you decide to let a man put an entire part of his body inside of you at the risk of potentially getting an STI/STD or pregnant (because no form of birth control is 100 percent except for abstinence), it can never be “just sex” (somebody really needed to hear that too). At the same time, though, I got the character’s point because, if one or both people do not love each other or even deeply care for one another and/or sex is treated as an activity more than an act to establish a worthwhile connection and/or you and the person you are sleeping with have not really discussed what you are expecting from sex besides the act itself — you’re definitely not making/celebrating love.
Not by a long shot. What can make things get a bit complicated, though, is you’re doing the same act that “love makers” do without the same mental and emotional ties…or (sometimes) expectations.
You know, back when I decided to put all of my business out there via the piece “14 Lessons I've Learned From 14 Sex Partners,” now more than ever, I am quite clear that most of those guys fell into the “having sex” category. I wasn’t in the type of relationship with them where “making love” even made sense; however, because I was friends with most of them, we weren’t exactly f-cking (which I will get to in just a moment) either. We had a connection of some sort for the bedroom yet not enough to be together in the other rooms of the house.
We were really attracted and curious, so we decided to act on that. Oftentimes, the sex was good and so we rationalized that “having sex” was enough because if the friendship was, eh, “sound enough”, that we could justify the physical pleasure.
And y’all, that’s kind of what having sex is — it’s the limbo (or purgatory, depending on your situation) between making love and f-cking. The thing about limbo ish is it’s a lot like something being lukewarm: it’s not really one thing or another which means that it can completely blindside you, if you’re not careful (and totally honest with yourself as well as your partner(s)).
So, if you are contemplating having sex, I really — REALLY — recommend that you figure out how you feel, what you want (outside of the act itself) and if you are prepared for what “not quites” can bring. My mother used to say that the consequences of sex don’t change just because the circumstances do — and there is some solid “wow” to that, if you really stop to think about it.
And finally, f-ck. Although most experts on the word (and yes, there are some) agree that its origin is rooted somewhere within the German language (although some say that it might’ve come from Middle English words like fyke or fike which mean “to move about restlessly” or the Norwegian word fukka which means “to copulate”), you might have also heard that it is an acronym that once stood for “Fornication Under Consent of the King”; and there is actually some data that is connected to that as well.
Legend has it that way back in the day, in order to keep reproduction rates where a particular king wanted them to be, he would instruct his residents to have sex with each other — whether they were married or not (hence, the word “fornication” being in the acronym). However, because sex outside of marriage was taken far more seriously at the time, residents had to apply for a permit to participate so that the king could determine if things like their occupation and lineage would prove to be beneficial for the kingdom overall. F-ck: no love; just necessity. And although some believe this to be more myth than fact, what is certain is it was only over time that f-ck was seen as a profane/swear/cuss word — a word that was perceived to be so offensive, in fact, that between the years 1795-1965, it didn’t even appear in dictionaries.
Personally, when I think of this four-letter word, the first thing that actually comes to my mind is animals. Take a dog being in heat, for instance. That’s basically when a female dog is ovulating and wants to have sex the most. It’s not because they are “in love” with another dog; they are simply doing what instinctively comes to them — and since animals do not reason or feel at the same capacity that humans do, although they science says that many of them do experience pleasure when they engage in their version of sexual activity, it’s not nearly as layered or even profound as what we experience.
Let’s keep going. Another reason why f-cking makes me think of animals is due to the doggy style position. Hear me out. Ain’t it wild how, most of us pretty much know that the term comes from how dogs have sex, even though most animals have sex that same way — and think about it: Doggy style doesn’t consist of making eye contact or kissing while having intercourse. It’s “hitting from behind” without much emotional energy or effort at all. Just how animals do it. And so, yeah, f-cking does seem to be more about pure animal — or in our case, mammal — instinct. I don’t need to feel anything for someone, so long as the sexual desire is there. Hmph.
Something else that I find to be interesting about f-cking is how dictionaries choose to define it. Many of them are going to provide you with two definitions: “to have sexual intercourse with” and “to treat unfairly or harshly (usually followed by over)” and that definitely makes me think of another term — casual sex and words that define casual like apathetic, careless and without serious or definite intention. So, the dictionary says that while f-cking is about having sexual intercourse — just like making love and having sex is — it goes a step further and says that it can include being treated unfairly or harshly.
And although that can make you think of assault on the surface, for sure — sometimes being treated unfairly or harshly is simply feeling like someone had sex AT you and not really WITH you; instinct (i.e., getting off) and that’s about it. Yeah, the way this puzzle is coming together, f-cking seems to be more about lust and self and not much else.
Now That You Know the Difference, What to Keep in Mind
Y’all, this is definitely the kind of topic that I could expound on until each and every cow comes home. That said, here’s hoping that I provided enough perspective on each act to close this out by encouraging you to keep the following three things to keep in mind:
1. Before you engage in copulation, be honest with yourself about what you’re ACTUALLY doing — and that your partner agrees with you. You know, they say that our brain is our biggest sex organ and honestly, breaking down the differences between making love, having sex and f-cking helps to prove that fact. I say that because, although the sex act itself is pretty much the same across the board, you and your partner’s mindset can make the experience completely different. That said, if you think that you are making love and they think y’all are just having sex — stuff can get pretty dicey. Bottom line: communicate in the bedroom before attempting to connect outside of it. It’s always worth it when you do.
2. Yes, you can feel one way and do something else. I can just about guess what some of y’all are on: Shellie, we can love our partner and still just want to f-ck. If what you are saying is you can emotionally love someone and physically lust them and want to act sometimes on the lust without really factoring in the love — yes, I agree. Doggy style continues to be a favorite sex position for people, in general, and I’m more than confident that many of the participants polled are in a serious relationship. However, having lust-filled sex with someone who you know loves you is vastly different than doing it with someone who you have no clue what they think about you or you barely know at all. Y’all, please just make sure that you know…what you should know. Sex is too amazing to have a lot of regret after it.
3. Have realistic expectations about sex. Listen, so much of my life consists of writing and talking about sex that I will be the first one to say that it deserves a ton of props for what it is able to do, in a wonderful way, for people mentally, emotionally and physically. Yet again, I’m not a fan of “make love” because something that feels really good doesn’t always mean that it is good for you. Meaning, you’ve got to be real about what sex with someone will do to your mind and spirit — not just what it will do for your body. An author by the name of Gabriel García Márquez once said, “Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love.” For no one, should this be a constant norm. Feel me? I hope you do.
____
One act. Three very different experiences.
It’s kind of wild that sex has the ability to create that — and yet, clearly, it does.
Please just make sure that you know which experience you’re signing up for.
So that you’re having sex (you know, in general) instead of sex having you. Real talk.
Let’s make things inbox official! Sign up for the xoNecole newsletter for love, wellness, career, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
Featured image by Giphy