Stacey O'Gorman is the host of Finger Food, a podcast “serving you intimate conversations on a platter”. She writes about what she’s learned from her chats with high-profile and creative Kiwis, about sex and connection.‍

In the ever-evolving landscape of the sex industry, I decided to start a podcast called Finger Food – dedicated to normalising conversations around sex, identity, and pleasure so that people could find a little more freedom within themselves. 

Little did I know that the wisdom gleaned from my diverse guests would surpass the cumulative knowledge I’d acquired in my eight years of personal development work and study. What emerged is an understanding that storytelling and vulnerability are catalysts for extraordinary growth, fostering the deep, authentic connections we all crave.

Being in the privileged seat of the interviewer, I delved into these intimate conversations with individuals who entrusted me not only with their personal stories but also with the responsibility of sharing these experiences on public platforms. 

It's a responsibility I carry with great care and a journey that continues to challenge me. Through these discussions, I've unearthed a treasure trove of insights that traditional courses and workshops – in my experience of the whitewashed sex industry – have never provided.

One significant revelation that appeared through chatting with Alma Proenca, Ash Williams and Jordan Rondel is that you can be a sex symbol, a stripper, be completely confident in your body and get next to naked on the internet – and still be uninterested in the act of sex.

Sexual energy can manifest in myriad ways, and doesn’t necessarily mean someone has a high sex drive, which, for me, totally debunked misconceptions about the correlation between self-expression and libido.

Equally eye-opening were discussions I had with guests like Chris Parker and Shaneel Lal, who exposed the dearth of comprehensive sex education for the queer community beyond the narrow lens of pornography. 

Representation matters, and the absence of mainstream narratives in Disney films and Hollywood rom-coms depicting diverse love stories and relationships leaves a void that needs filling.

My conversations with Te Awarangi Puna, Jaycee Tanuvasa and Maddox Drew shed light on the amplified complexities faced by those not born in bodies they identify with. Especially as teenagers, with the daily challenges of uniforms, gendered bathrooms and swimming classes – it's like high school becomes an obstacle course for some.

Sexologists Juliet Allen, Morgan Penn and Belinda Wiley helped shatter the myth that professionals in the field of sexuality are 24/7 engaged in hot, sweaty, pleasure-filled sex. 

I also know, from my own experience of lengthy sexless patches, that this is far from the truth. Sexual desire is seasonal and can be influenced by various things, like stress, life changes or mere personal preference. 

It’s very important to highlight these experiences, especially from the pros, as social media can be a huge comparison game and we can often project that the experts have it all figured out.

In the initial stages of creating the podcast, as a cisgender, hetero host I grappled with my own ignorance and fear of being exposed for lacking knowledge about gender identity, sexual orientation and relationship structures. However, all my guests' enlightening stories and insights have helped me transcend these limitations. 

Lesson learned: curiosity and listening beats trying to be the wise owl any day.

I have discovered that coming from a place of curiosity and listening, rather than trying to educate or compare/project my own experience onto someone else's, naturally unveils these aspects and understandings. This journey has reinforced a fundamental truth: we are all human and despite our unique journeys, we all share a common longing for connection and being understood.

From discussions on fetishization to sugar daddies, the underlying theme remains constant throughout: the lack of safe spaces for crucial conversations on pleasure, gender identity, and consent. 

Neither myself nor any of my guests, ranging from 22 to 65 years old, received comprehensive sex education, leaving us fumbling in the dark and hungering for more understanding and openness.

So, there you have it: a journey of breaking stereotypes, challenging the norm, and realising that, underneath it all, we're just a bunch of humans craving connection and understanding. In a world thirsty for deeper empathy, I hope we can encourage more spaces for these conversations. Let's face it, talking about sex and pleasure is way more fun than small talk about the weather.