We are Not Alone

 We Are Not Alone

By Claire

Growing up, I felt like an alien among my friends when it came to sex. Yes, I would join them in feigning disgust at anything sexual, ridiculing the “dumb boys” who seemed interested only in that. But every time I laughed along, I felt like I was erasing a part of myself. Because deep down—I wanted it. I craved the attention, the tension, the rush of being wanted. And that desire clashed hard with the image I had worked so carefully to build: straight-A student, soccer team captain, pink-wearing, rule-following, teacher’s favorite. I thought if I embraced that part of myself, I’d lose everything else.

Everything came to a head during my freshman year of college, after a wild night with two boys from the swim team. I wasn’t pressured. I wasn’t confused. I wanted it. I initiated it. I loved every second. And yet, by sunrise, I was unraveling. What had felt so right suddenly felt dangerous—like I had crossed a line I couldn’t uncross, like I had undone something essential about myself. I sat in my dorm room crying, overwhelmed by shame I couldn’t explain.

That’s when my roommates—who at that point I barely knew—walked in. We weren’t friends yet. We were just three strangers sharing a shoebox with cinderblock walls. I braced myself for judgment. Instead, I got exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

Jaz sat down next to me and asked, “Okay… details. Like, all of them.” She wasn’t judging—she was fascinated. Nina, who hadn’t even undressed in front of us yet and always seemed like the most composed girl in the building, gave me a look and said, “You’re braver than I am. I’d never have the guts—but I kind of wish I did.”

In that moment, I didn’t feel dirty. I didn’t feel reckless. I felt seen. Understood. Admired, even. It hit me that I wasn’t the only one carrying this contradiction—wanting to be “good” but also wanting to feel alive. That night on our dorm room floor, we cracked something open together. No performative girl bonding. No fake empowerment slogans. Just three young women telling the truth for the first time.

That was the night we became us. And more than a decade later, through wild detours, messy love lives, career wins, emotional wipeouts, and midnight phone calls filled with hard truths and bad decisions—we’re still navigating that line between who we were taught to be and who we actually are. But now, we have each other. And we built Be Your Sexy to be that space for women who haven’t found their Jaz or Nina yet.

So if you’ve ever felt ashamed of what you wanted—even if you loved it, even if you’d do it again—you’re not broken. You’re not alone. And if you need a little push to stop apologizing and start owning your desires—we’ve got you.

Hell, we might even dare you.