2 minute read

One Turned to Many

This phenomenon is largely due to the lack of queer representation in mainstream media. When I came out, there was no Heartstopper or Young Royals or Booksmart. We had the Girls Like Girls music video and Paige trying to literally drown Emily in an attempt to repress her feelings for her in season one of Pretty Little Liars. And all of tumblr, a platform primarily composed of content labelled NSFW. Not exactly a queer High School Musical to be found.

This lack of PG-13 representation is a massive contributor to the sexualisation of queer youth, which, at least in my case, led to me receiving the title of ‘pillow princess’, when what I really was, was prepubescent. And I can’t be the only one seeing 16-year-old girls on TikTok using and ‘reclaiming’ the word as if it’s just a quip. What are we really mocking? A lower level of comfort with sex? Hilarious.

Secondly, every relationship is unique, especially every queer relationship. For the uneducated, I want to introduce the concept of a ‘stone top’. There are no prizes for guessing that that’s the opposite of a pillow princess. She only gives, never receives. The stone top/pillow princess dynamic is a tale as old as time, and yet people only seem to take issue with one side of it. And it just happens to be the typically more feminine, passive side… But I’m sure that’s unrelated!

The way every couple has sex is a unique and intimate thing, even between the Eves and Villainelles, who find each other at Moose on a Thursday night. If something works for them, then who are we to judge? If you’re unsatisfied with the sex you’re having, you should take that up with your partner. If you’re unsatisfied with the sex other people are having, you should take that up with your therapist.

I do understand the objection. It’s frustrating to have a bad hookup where you feel like you’re doing all the work and getting nothing back. But may I offer one final line of defence?

When I call myself a retired pillow princess, I’m not talking about my 14-year-old self. For a long time, that is 100 percent what I was, and it’s a habit I still consciously have to think about breaking. It wasn’t because I didn’t care about my partners or their experiences. It wasn’t because I was lazy and didn’t want to put in any effort.

The truth is that I felt out of my depth, like I didn’t know what I was doing, and I was too scared and insecure to try. I cared so much about what my partners thought of me, and I was terrified that poor sexual performance would shatter the illusion of effortless, intimidating hotness I had created. It was my lack of confidence and a fear of vulnerability, not a lack of enthusiasm, that earned me the title pillow princess. I’m sure I’m not alone in that.

So if you or a loved one are currently feeling frustrated with a pillow princess, this is my request for a little bit of empathy, on her behalf. Obviously, I wouldn’t recommend this for the girl you met at Moose, but a conversation about intimacy and non-judgement might go a long way. She might just need a bit of instruction or reassurance. Sex, just like any powerful experience, can be a breeding ground for anxiety and insecurity. But extending a tiny bit more empathy to your local pillow princess might lead to us all having better sex.

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