marilyn monroe, God erotica, and tiramisu

first overshare! x

I feed off of making people uncomfortable. I wake up most mornings and reach for a healthy adrenaline rush, finding it best to get it out of the way early. It’s my metaphorical ice-water dunk, a lifestyle change that helps even out my unnaturally high cortisol levels. It also makes me feel a bit like Gwyneth Paltrow, Goop era. 

Over years of research, I’ve found that the most efficient way to do this is by talking about sex. Michel Foucault agrees, and I’m certain so would all of my MPDG role models– from Summer (500 Days of Summer) to Alaska Young (Looking for Alaska) – if they had sentience. 

Sex, despite being the unifying force of society and paradoxically commonplace, remains a discursive taboo. I get off on exploiting this. Perhaps the third most common question I get asked (considering a sample population of mostly men), after what I’m studying, of course, and why my pupils are so big, is “Do you like sex?”

God, if I wasn’t putting on an Oscar-worthy performance before, I sure would now. I remember reading a Tumblr textpost about Marilyn Monroe, explaining how she would “turn on” her alluring alter ego. She’d straighten her posture (tits first!), blink a twinkle into her eye, and would go from being unrecognised (despite walking in NYC!) to suddenly magnetic, unable not to be noticed. Or, at least, I assume that’s how she did it. 

“I’ll never forget the day Marilyn and I were walking around New York City, just having a stroll on a nice day. She loved New York because no one bothered her there like they did in Hollywood, she could put on her plain-Jane clothes and no one would notice her. She loved that. So, as we were walking down Broadway, she turns to me and says, ‘Do you want to see me become her?’ I didn’t know what she meant but I just said ‘Yes’ — and then I saw it. I don’t know how to explain what she did because it was so very subtle, but she turned something on within herself that was almost like magic. And suddenly cars were slowing, and people were turning their heads and stopping to stare. They were recognizing that this was Marilyn Monroe as if she pulled off a mask or something, even though a second ago nobody noticed her. I had never seen anything like it before.”

~ Amy Greene, wife of Marilyn’s personal photographer Milton Greene

I’ve spent a concerning amount of time and effort studying women like her, observing and rehearsing these slight mannerisms with a Nina Sayer-esque desire for perfection. I tunnel-visioned mastering the art of seduction, obsessively. My body developed much faster than most girls my age, and I fondly recall getting frequent compliments on my tits. I loved, loved, loved the P.E. locker rooms. My doe eyes, pillow lips, and unusually large Ashkenazi tits helped open many doors for me. However, there was a pesky little obstacle that would get in the way: my abrasive and unempathetic Eastern European personality. 

I still don’t think I have a ‘filter’ between my mind and my mouth. But, fortunately, I did grow my capacity for empathy. (Thank you 6+ years of therapy!) As I went from teenager to young woman, my harshness went from being taken as straight-up bullying (which it WAS!), then to being coquettish, even attractive. You can imagine how I handled this shift in perspective. At the time, it was a blessing bestowed upon me straight from the hands of God, whom I regularly would fantasise about fucking. 

You remember how you would doze off during class, and start daydreaming about random shit like, “if there was an active shooter right now, only I could stop them. I would become a hero. I would fuck them up so bad that I would get a medal of honor, and then probably get to order in Doordash to lunch without the front desk ladies yapping about it.. Also, it would literally look so good on my college apps. I could get into —”, etc.

My reveries were typically about what God would be like in bed. I’m talking about the Abrahamic God: the older man with the sexy beard and the strict-father-demeanour. And because I’m like soooo bad, he’d be like, “either you suck me off or I’m gonna have to send you to Hell.” (In this universe I’m dead already, doesn’t matter how, no one watches porn for the plot). But when he’d speak, it would sound like cymbals crashing and trumpets blaring and war drums all simultaneously playing in tune to his syllables. I actually don’t think he would even speak in any language, just make otherworldly sounds that would automatically translate into words in my tiny dainty little mortal brain. And then I’d be like, “oh noooo please don’t!!! I’ll do anything!!!!” whilst putting my hair up in a scrunchie. 

Then he’d untie his toga (?) and I’d be eye level with what is supposed to be his penis, but I could never imagine how it would actually look, so it would just be super blurry and impossible to gauge. Anti-climatic, I know, but everyone fast forwards through the head parts anyway. Then he would levitate me up into the stars and we fuck in zero gravity. 

The details would morph around, but the fundamental routine stayed the same. I’d always finish my essays early, so this got me through a lot of waiting around. I thought about sex a lot, but I just assumed so did everyone else. I know boys did, because I’d ask them directly. Girls would answer sometimes too, but they weren’t as open with revealing this sort of information as boys were. It took more work, more warming up to it. 

I thought I was so fucking cool, that I was so quirky and different and sexy to boys because I was super open about sex– but only talking about it!!! I was, and still am, mostly bark and little bite. I actually didn’t lose my virginity until senior year, and only because it had been 3 months in my most serious relationship ever at the time, and if I made him wait a little longer he would probably break up with me.

The first time I saw a penis (on my own volition) I had a panic attack. I wasn’t expecting to react like that at all, I mean, sure, I was nervous, but it was mostly excitement!!! I knew what I was doing, and had mentally prepped for this exact situation!!!! But then he took it out and I immediately froze. My hands were stuck mid air, not even reaching my mouth, so I couldn’t even cover my slack jaw and glassy eyes in time. My neck was starting to cramp up from the uncomfortable statue I had become for THREE FUCKING PLAYS OF ALL THE STARS BY KENDRICK LAMAR AND SZA. (He had Apple Music and didn’t queue anything after, so it just started over again and again and again.) He noticed after like thirty seconds of immobilisation, and once he realised what was going on, he tried to comfort me by rubbing my back. I let out a YELP y’all, a fucking YELP and spasmed him off. He didn’t even try to put his dick away, he just sat there with it out, blinking at me with confusion and concern(ish) until I eventually unfroze. 

I cannot make this shit up!!!!!!!! I wasn’t able to listen to that song without having a visceral reaction until a few months ago. He asked me what happened and I brushed it off, laughing about it like it was a silly little thing that we should just ignore and move on from. Unfortunately, teenage boys in heat don’t have the social awareness to be able to do that, and he wouldn’t let me drop it. I think he actually thought I was like…. repulsed by it or something. I don’t blame him at all for not letting it go, because how was he supposed to know what the fuck had just happened??? I finally paused the song (THE FUCKING SONG!!!!!!!) and nervously giggled through my explanation, revealing to him for the first time that I had been SA-ed a year earlier on summer holiday. Surprise!!! Mina lore!!!!! :3

He was even more confused, and ignored all social cues once more. “Wait so…. Why did you say you like sex then?” Silly goose, he must have misunderstood. I liked the IDEA of sex, not the actual action!!!!! (This was back then, before I had discovered what orgasming was like with someone else). Why? Because it’s forbidden, it’s taboo, it’s something I can sublimate rebellion into! But, of course, I didn’t say that. Instead, I scurried to appease him with out of breath phrases such as: “I do!!!! I don’t know what this was LOL!!!! (Please don’t change how u feel about me)!!! Let’s try again!!!! (Please don’t leave me)!!! I know I kinda lied– no wait, I didn’t— why are you trying to gaslight me rn???”, etc.

I baked him a tiramisu cake and brought it to him at work the next day. I wrote a little note too, that read “sorry i had a mental breakdown after getting you hard :(“ He didn’t bring it up again. 

A month later, it was homecoming, and I had trained even harder for it. I hid in the bathroom at the afterparty, with my best friend at the time stage-whispering at me while I cringed in the mirror, trying to hype me up. I chugged some fireball and apple juice, and went into the movie room of this random girl’s house, where he was waiting with his pants already off and a blanket over his lower half. I went down on him for over half an hour, and when we emerged out of that door together, his bros gave him a standing ovation. 

I went to the bathroom and spat at my reflection, then proceeded to scrub my face until it was red. My jaw was sore for the next week, and I never told anyone how disgusting I felt. The next day, I signed up for fetlife– a kink community Facebook-like social media platform. I posted some artsy nudes, and woke up to them having gone viral. It was practically impossible to tell I was a minor in them, and I thank God I had the common sense to crop out my face and any identifying things in the background. I still see my underaged body, albeit, covered with roses, on random Pinterest boards and various aesthetic posts on Insta, Twitter, WeHeartIt, and once, even on Reddit. I reverse image search them every now and then when I remember– usually after I unexpectedly stumble across them scrolling on social media, and feel my jaw clench up again. 

I chose to include them here, with careful cropping. Chances are, you’ve seen them before too! Let me know if you have, and we can laugh about it awkwardly next time we see each other. 

But, to answer the question, I do like sex. It just took a little longer for me to realise how exactly. Come back in two weeks to read what I mean by this, and for more TMI stories! 

Xoxo,

Malina <3