Ask Peaches: How do I get over this ‘cringe’ feeling and own my sexuality?

New here, darling? This post is part of a series called ‘Ask Peaches’ where I answer the delicious, burning questions you have about smut, sex and anything spicy inbetween. Read this for more context or send your own juicy musings straight to me at peaches@ladieswholit.co.uk Always anonymous, always answered in good faith and good fun. Take what you love and leave anything you don’t.

Dear Peaches,

I’m an out-and-out smut girlie. My Kobo couldn’t be more packed with feral fiction if I tried. But when it comes to IRL spice, I just get this weird shrinking, shameful feeling. It’s not that I don’t love sex when I’m in it, it’s more that I always feel more like a passenger than a driver. I’m always in awe of fictional women who can just vanish their clothes, make a jaw-dropping impression as they stroll over to the bed and grab their spice partner by the hair so they know exactly how it’s about to go.

Why do I feel like this and what do I do about it so I can actually live my best fucking life, literally?

Darling, first things first: there is nothing wrong with you. Say it with me.

What you're describing is cultural conditioning. Most of us were raised on a steady diet of ‘good girls wait to be chosen.’ Desire was something that happened to women, not something we reached out and took. So when a fictional FMC saunters across the room and mounts her MC like she invented confidence, of course she feels like a fantasy. She's operating without decades of ‘don't be too much’ whispered in her ear. You are (for now). 

There's also another universally human explanation sitting right alongside that one: a book gives you certainty. You know exactly how the scene ends before it starts. You know the MC wants her, the narrative has already told you so. Real life offers no such guarantee, and stepping into the driver's seat can mean risking rejection and awkwardness. Passenger mode feels safer. It's not that you lack desire, darling, it's that leading exposes you, and exposure is scary even when you want the thing on the other side of it.

So here's how you start closing the gap, one delicious step at a time.

Practice being wanted by yourself first: Not for a partner, not for anyone watching, just you. Move around your room like you own it. Look at yourself in the mirror the way your favourite MMC looks at his FMC. This feels ridiculous the first time. Do it anyway. Confidence is a muscle and muscles need reps before they can perform under pressure.

Say the want out loud before you're in bed: Try it in a text, in a low-lit moment on the sofa, anywhere the risk feels smaller. ‘I want you’ is a full sentence. No monologues, just the habit of your mouth forming those words without flinching.

Take one small physical lead and pause there: You don't need to go from passenger to hair-grab in one leap. Initiate the kiss. Choose the position. Pull someone toward you instead of waiting to be pulled. Notice how it feels in your body, not just whether it ‘worked.’ Feels good? Try it again.

Let your Kobo keep doing its job: Use your taste in feral fiction as your mental playground. Every time a scene lights you up, ask yourself what specifically is doing that. The command in her voice? The way she doesn't ask permission to want him? Steal it. Not necessarily the choreography, but the energy underneath it.

And darling, be patient with yourself. Rewriting years of ‘wait to be chosen’ happens in a hundred small moments where you choose to take up space instead of shrinking out of it. You already know how to want things ferociously, you've been rehearsing it in your TBR for years. Now it's just time to let it out from between the covers.