Hey, It's Robyn here. Yup - Robyn with a y.
You would probably assume that I am some kind of freak or hippy chick with a name like that, but nope. Plain ole vanilla gal here. But with a y.
Sometimes it's a little tough being a plain old normal girl...um....woman in a world that fetishizes individuality to the point of excess. Everybody my age (I'm a year out of high school) seems to feel the need to have blue hair, and a dozen tattoos and piercings. I don't knock that, but it's just not me.
I guess I'm not really being totally straight with you here. I don't want to sound arrogant, but I do get told that I am beautiful from time to time, so I guess I'm not "normal" in that way. That always weirds me out a little because like most girls, I only seem to see my flaws. Even when I was a little girl, people would comment on how dramatically my seaglass blue eyes contrasted with my thick chestnut brown hair.
And speaking of chests, (LOL), I've always gotten a lot of attention there. When you have a body like Jayne Mansfield (google her), people notice. I'm naturally athletic; I played high school field hockey and soccer, and took lots of dance classes. The end result is that although I've always been curvy, I've also always been trim, fit and have had great skin. I still do. Oh, and one more thing; I have dimples - not as adorable as Kim's (a girl I know from high school) but still pretty darned cute, if I say so myself.
I get my looks from both my gorgeous mom and manly dad. My mom was model material back in the day; blonde, slimmer than me, and had that "1000 watt" smile you hear about. As a 45 year old woman, she still turns heads wherever she goes.
So it was only natural that she and my dad would end up together; he is a total man's man. Star football and track athlete in high school and college, and eventually military lifer in the Marines. As an officer, he definitely ran the tightest ship in the most masculine branch of the service. He saw lots of active duty and won lots of awards for courage and leadership.
Which is awesome.....except if you're his daughter!
My brothers have always been encouraged to be active, dynamic and aggressive. But there was a different standard for "princess". I was always expected to be demure, charming and feminine. Don't get me wrong, every little girl wants to be a princess, but that gets pretty old when she becomes an independent, strong, young woman like I am now. Unfortunately, Dad's always had a really hard time seeing me as anything other than that 5 year old charmer in a princess costume and tiara.
What makes matters worse is that my body just oozes sexuality all by itself. Anything I wear enhances everything I've got, and when I put on a bathing suit? - game over. I think it kinda terrifies him that I could be a sexual being. Remember, I've had this bod for a while, so he's been dealing with it for a while. I can just imagine, being a macho guy, how he feels seeing guys go speechless around his "baby girl", or craning their necks to check me out while trying to avoid making it obvious.
Moving around a lot as a military brat, I had to constantly be "the new kid" in school and whatever neighborhood we were living in. Boys would fall all over themselves trying to charm "the new pretty girl" and then get pissed when I didn't react the way they wanted. Girls would be jealous that I was getting all the attention, and deliberately try to freeze me out to get rid of "the competition". That led me to being a bit reserved and cautious. I quickly learned to keep my distance until I got the lay of the land, and that probably made me seem a little cold or aloof.
Also, I guess I couldn't help but internalize the messages my father made clear; that women are either "nice girls" or "sluts". He married a gorgeous "nice girl" - his high school sweetheart (and prom queen to his prom king), and so that is what he knows. In fact, I don't believe Mom ever even dated anyone else before him.
Complicating all this, my older cousin Sandy had a pregnancy scare right after high school and almost had to postpone college. Dad got wind of that and used her as "a good example of a bad example" to me and my brothers endlessly, but especially to me. During car rides, at the dinner table, and whenever we saw a woman with a baby stroller, he'd give us another lecture about how "she nearly ruined her life". He seemed to especially drive that message home to "his princess" in particular. It's not as though I had any intention of ever being reckless, but I guess that to him, my body suggested otherwise.
Unfortunately, I guess I ended up internalizing a lot of his ranting, even though I thought it was definitely over the top. I loved being his princess: making daddy happy. Being from a secure, stable "Father knows best" home, it was easy to embrace the role of the virtuous "good girl", just like Mom. I was a good student, I built "good girl" friendships (once I got established in a school), and dressed attractively, but never provocatively. To be fair, I never had to dress provocatively to get attention; anything I wore ended up looking pretty hot.
So here is where things get tricky for me. I love being a "good girl", but guess what; every woman has a little bit of "slut" in her - even levelheaded, responsible, normal, "good girl" women like me. By slut, I don't mean "sleeps around carelessly" or "attention whore", but rather I use the term as maybe "wants to be a little naughty with the man she loves"
And that man currently is an incredible hunk of a guy named Stevie - er, I mean Steve (he recently let me know that it was time to stop "having a five year old's name" - more on that later). Steve is kinda the male version of me; healthy looking, great bod, athletic, gorgeous face, looks great in anything he wears, but also like me, he's a bit old-fashioned, repressed and maybe a little immature.
We get told all the time that we would "make beautiful babies" or are "the perfect couple". We are definitely known as the "hot couple", which kinda makes me blush. In fact, that girl Kim (why do I keep mentioning her?) once revealed to me after a few wine spritzers that she has visualized the two of us having sex, and it was a real turn-on for her. I kinda wanted to be "ewww" about that, but it actually feels pretty flattering and I have to admit that the thought of her visualizing, and maybe even masturbating to it, is kinda hot. I have to laugh about that though; she's such a sweet, innocent girl-next-door nerd, that I find it hard to imagine her even thinking about masturbating, let alone actually doing it.
What people don't realize about Steve and I is that we are also soulmates as well. I know he's gorgeous, but I don't think about it so much, because what I really love about him is that he's mostly kind and generous and funny and smart. I really love that we have the same twisted sense of humor, and love the same kind of music and movies and stuff. Oh, and food. We LOOOVE sharing funky ethnic food. We are both also pretty responsible for our age, and I like that too.
I honestly see Steve as "Mr. Right", and think he feels the same way about me. I know we totally love each other, and I can't imagine finding someone better suited to me. And my dad loves him, and why wouldn't he? Steve was a great high school athlete like Dad and has the aloof male distance that my dad identifies with. That is, Steve was aloof until recently -- more on that later.
Steve was not my first, nor me his. Although I was a "princess", I have always gotten asked on a lot of dates, and eventually I did some of the experimenting with men that most normal young adult women do - but always with good respectable guys, and never to excess. And when I say "men", I mean two guys only (besides Stevie).
And oral sex with those guys? Forget it! I got the message early and often that those kinds of acts were gross, unnatural, and, again- "slutty". I never dared or wanted to do any of that stuff, because I thought something terrible might happen and I would end up like poor old Sandy; the talk of the town. I can tell you now that I was secretly a little envious of Sandy's lessez-faire attitude, rough humor and party girl approach to life.
Then I got together with Steve. We'd had an ongoing flirtation during our junior and senior years, but he never got his nerve up enough to ask me out, and a good girl NEVER asks a boy out, even if she really wants to.
After we'd graduated, a friend who knew we were into each other, but saw that it just wasn't happening, set us up on a "blind date". I was really nervous waiting at the restaurant with the other girl, but when the friend (her boyfriend) came in through the door with Steve, he and I both burst out laughing - and finally were able to take our flirting to the next level.
He was soooo hot (still is), and I was a little bit experienced by then. I knew my Dad approved of him. Most of all, though, Steve made me laugh, and I instantly fell for him and felt a strong emotional bond. When we started "fooling around" (after the mandated 10 dates as indicated in the "good girl" handbook LOL - he was very patient!), it turned out to be an emotional as well as physical experience for me. We were really "making love", and sometimes I would even cry during and after because I was so moved.
Also, he never pushed me for anything unusual; he seemed to be happy with "plain vanilla" missionary, (I wouldn't try any other positions back then) When he did ask about oral sex, and I said I thought it was gross or slutty, he accepted that. I'm not sure he really felt that way about it, however. He'd been with a few women (always "respectable"), and I think he - or his good looks - might have convinced one or two to do that with him.
The sex with Steve really felt great, and we both were really into it in the way twenty year-olds usually are. It was at least four or five times a week, and sometimes even two or three times in a day! Although I never had orgasms (sorry for being crude!), I didn't feel like I was missing anything, because the experience was always so emotionally rich.
Things changed however. In the middle of this love fest, I suddenly developed a "lady problem" down there. It was nothing serious, but sex was definitely out of the question! I knew it would take a little while for it to clear up, and that if I rushed it, I'd have to start the process of healing all over again, so I made it clear to Steve that it would be "hands off" for a while.
I think this left Steve feeling pretty frustrated. We had been going at it pretty regularly, and now nothing, and nothing in sight. He once again brought up manual or oral sex, but "daddy's princess" shut that down pretty quickly, although to be honest I was getting pretty darn curious about those things. By the way, I mean handjobs and blowjobs - I sometimes still have trouble using those "naughty" words.
