communication

It’s Okay to Break Up Because of Sex

Kate Sloan

It’s funny how you can entrench yourself so firmly in positivity and still get sucked into the vortex of shame from time to time.

I’m a sex-positive person. I live and work and socialize with almost exclusively other sex-positive people. So I know that having sexual desires is normal and acceptable.

And yet it only took a few weeks of constant sexual rejection to send me back to square one: profound embarrassment about being a sexual person.

Let me explain. I dated someone recently who was way, way lower on the sexual-desire-o-meter than I am. In fact, he seemed to conceptualize sex in a totally different way than I do. He talked about it as if it were a favor he did for me, that gave him no direct pleasure except in the way that it’s satisfying to give a loved one a backrub or make them dinner.

In my lifelong path of learning about relationships, one trick I’ve picked up is that it’s usually a bad idea to use “blame language.” It would be fallacious of me to say that this man “made me feel bad about myself,” since he wasn’t actively, maliciously choosing to do that. He was just living his truth – which happened to involve a far lower libido than what exists in my truth – and that took an emotional toll on me. I certainly don’t blame people with low desire levels for being that way. I just think that folks should be paired up with partners whose frequency and content of desire is roughly equivalent to their own.

When my relationship actually started to make me feel ugly and unsexy, that’s when my friends drew the line. “You have to break up with him,” they all told me, one after the next, when I shared my story privately on coffee dates or nights out at the bar. They saw my situation with the clarity and objectivity that I could not. I kept making excuses: “I like him so much, other than this one little thing!” “I think I can get him to come around!” “We’re non-monogamous, so I can always get sex elsewhere!”

I see now that part of me believed it’s not okay to break up with someone over sex. That it’s too small a reason, too unimportant a factor. That “the actual relationship” should be weighted more heavily in your decision than the sex ever would.

That is such bullshit, though. Sex is part of “the actual relationship.” Because it’s a fucking huge factor – for some people. And if sex is important to even just one person in a relationship, it matters in the grand scheme of things. Don’t let anyone tell you sex “isn’t a big deal” or “shouldn’t be that important” if it is to you. Only you get to decide the role and significance of sex in your life, and in your relationships.

The language my boyfriend used about sex started to creep into the way I thought about it, too. His go-to initiation (the rare times he did initiate) was, “I think we should get you off tonight.” The way he phrased it, it was like he didn’t view sex as a shared experience, a mutual delight, a bonding tool; it was merely a means to an end, and the end was my orgasm. Basically so that I would be satisfied, shut up about sex and quit bugging him for it. Or at least, that’s the feeling I got from him.

There’s nothing wrong with giving orgasms, or with wanting them. But this paradigm started to make me feel like it was selfish for me to want sex, because the only end result of our sex together was my pleasure. Viewed in that light, it seemed ridiculous for me to end the relationship in search of greater sexual compatibility. Did I just want to get my rocks off wherever I could? Was my nymphomaniacal hunger so great that I would throw away an otherwise good relationship to get that need met?

The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized how wrong this view is. For me, sex with a partner isn’t just about getting off – if it were, I’d simply masturbate instead, since that’s a more reliable way to make that happen. No, sex is one of the main ways I connect with partners, express my affection, and feel that affection mirrored back at me. It is absolutely crucial to my experience of romantic intimacy. Without it, I just don’t feel that I’m truly giving love, or receiving it. You can flood me with attention in all four of the other love languages, but without sex, it feels to me like a portrait that’s missing its subject. All of the pleasant peripheral details, with no central focus to hold the image together.

Viewed this way, it seems obvious that my relationship needed to end. Our problem was more than a fixable breakdown in communication; it was a full-on, hard-wired mismatch in the way we communicate. If we stayed together, “giving me” sex would continue to make him feel resentful and awkward, and being chronically denied sex would continue to make me feel rejected and unattractive. A pairing like that is destined to shatter. No one can or should suppress the ways they express and experience love; they should just seek out other people who express and experience it in similar ways.

Through this whole process, no one ever actually said to me, “Sex isn’t a good enough reason to break up with him.” In fact, my friends continually pointed out that sex is a good enough reason, even if there were no other reasons (and there were). It was just the slut-shamey voice inside my own head that parroted this sentiment at me – and, to a lesser extent, the words of my boyfriend, when he said judgmental things like “It seems like sex is the most important thing in a relationship for you” and “I wish you wouldn’t make everything about sex all the time.”

Since I’m conventionally unattractive (i.e. chubby and kinda weird-looking), there is a part of me that believes I should “take what I can get.” That a good-enough relationship is good enough. That I shouldn’t push for all the things I want in a partner, because there’s no way I’ll get them. That I should feel blessed when any man is attracted to me, even if our relationship is a daily trainwreck.

It was only once I surfaced from this shitty relationship, and looked at my life with fresh eyes again, that I remembered: Oh yeah. Lots of people are attracted to me. Many of whom are pretty damn compatible with me, including in the way we think about sex. And I do deserve good sex. And it is okay to make that a priority. And that doesn’t mean I’m a pathological perv – it just means I’m a human with a sex drive.

If you’re thinking about breaking up with a partner because the sex is bad, infrequent, or otherwise unsatisfying, I hereby give you permission to do so. Consider it carefully – because, as my slightly shamey ex-boyfriend told me repeatedly, there are other factors to consider besides sex – but also consider that a bad sexual connection can be the bad apple that spoils the barrel. If sex is a baseline need for you, you’re not going to be truly, fully happy in a relationship where the sex doesn’t work. That doesn’t mean you’re selfish or fucked-up or have a one-track mind, so don’t let anyone tell you it does.

You are allowed to want sex. You are allowed to want a partner who wants the same kinds of sex that you do. You are allowed to pursue that kind of partner, even if it means making a radical shift in your life. Like Oprah says: live your best life now.

5 Reasons Gamers Are Good in Bed

Kate Sloan

They say you should have things in common with the people you date. And this just makes sense. You’ll have more to talk about, and more activities you can enjoy together, if you like the same stuff.

But I have a problem, and maybe you can relate in some way… I find myself inexplicably, consistently, palpably attracted to video game nerds – and I am not, myself, even remotely a “gamer girl.”

Don’t get me wrong: I own a 3DS, I’ve sunk many many hours into the Pokémon and Golden Sun series over the years, and I play The Sims and word game apps more often than is probably considered healthy. But gamer culture, and obsessiveness over games, has never really appealed to me. And I’d rather have a conversation about, say, tax law or the weather than hear one more dissection of why side-scrollers are better than first-person shooters or whatever.

But… probably upwards of 70% of the people I’ve ever seriously been attracted to have been video game nerds. Hell, my last (and only) serious boyfriend was a game developer. Video games are in my blood and in my heart, somehow. I wish it wasn’t so, but alas.

It’s worth noting, too, that video game culture is famously cruel to women. I haven’t encountered much of that in my life, except on the internet – the vast majority of gamer dudes I meet are actually lovely – but it’s an important detail in this issue nonetheless.

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However, setting all that aside… there are some common advantages to dating and fucking gamers. Here are a few of them.

 

1. They’re dexterous and coordinated.

Their fingers are strong from mashing buttons. They’re equally comfortable pounding your “buttons” hard and fast or slow and steady. Their brain-to-hands connection is super quick and responsive from thousands of hours of practice. Um. Yes. Enough said.

 

2. They live to solve puzzles.

Games like Limbo are all about finding creative solutions to problems, through trial and error. Not that your sexual response (or lack thereof) is a problem, necessarily, but it can be a challenge – at least, that’s how I think lots of gamers view it. “How can I figure out this person’s body as quickly as possible, and use what I learn to make them feel as good as possible?”

In my experience, gamers intuitively understand that not only does every body respond differently to different types of stimulation, but also that this is a good and fun thing. One of my favorite parts of sex is giving and taking direction, adapting techniques over time to follow feedback you get from your partner, and I find that gamers are more than willing to engage in this process. In many cases, they relish it.

 

3. They’ll remember what works and what doesn’t.

My ex knew his way through Viridian Forest like it was his own back yard – and all the neurons that aided in that process were probably also at play when he navigated my vulva.

Genitals can be like a map, and each person’s has a unique topography. Press here for pleasure; avoid this spot ’cause it’s painful; this part’s ticklish; this part needs to be warmed up first; this area needs intense pressure while this area can only handle the lightest touch… These are all important things to know, and gamers have already strengthened the parts of their brains that cling onto important geographic details.

 

4. They like practicing and improving.

Lots of gamers love unlocking achievements and beating records. Getting better at sex with a particular person is fun in the same kind of way.

My ex used to get gleeful when he made me come in a way that was new to me, or learned a new sexual skill. Sometimes he would literally use the words “Achievement unlocked!” which maybe would’ve annoyed me slightly if I wasn’t always near-comatose in a post-orgasmic daze at the time.

I think improvement can become an addiction for some people, and that’s something gamers need to watch out for: it’s no fun to be with someone who’s obsessed with making you come a certain way. But a small dose of this aspirational perfectionism can make sex awesome.

 

5. They appreciate the journey even more than the end result.

It’s satisfying as hell to beat the Elite Four, but it wouldn’t feel nearly as good if you hadn’t spent dozens of hours growing emotionally connected to your Pokémon, leveling them up, carefully choosing their movesets, and so on.

A sexual corollary: orgasm is fun, but gamers don’t want to skip straight to it. That’d be like using cheat codes. What would be the point? Games are meant to be played moreso than they’re meant to be won.

Orgasm-focused sex can be such a bummer. I love orgasms, don’t get me wrong, but it’s no fun for anyone when orgasms are your measuring stick for whether or not a sex session “succeeded.” If you and your partner had fun and experienced pleasure, I count that as a success. I think gamers understand that, for the most part. A day spent grinding (in the game sense, not the sexy sense…!) can still be productive and fun, even if you haven’t beaten the final boss by the time the day is out.

 

Have you dated/fucked gamers? Or are you one, yourself? What other qualities make them fun sexual partners?

Solid Sex Advice From My Grandmother

Kate Sloan

My Bubbie (Jewish grandmother) passed away a few years ago. She left me an assortment of things, from scarves to shoes to jewelry, but by far, the most enduring thing she left me was her advice.

I don’t think we ever talked about sex. We didn’t have that kind of relationship and she wasn’t that kind of person. But one piece of advice she gave me is extremely relevant to sex, whether or not she meant it to be.

Here’s what she told me: “You don’t ask, you don’t get.”

I most often heard her use this phrase in reference to beaurocratic processes: getting extra medical tests, nicer accommodations at a hotel, the right meal when the waiter brought you the wrong one, and so on. Her thinking was, it can’t hurt to ask. You might not get what you’re asking for, but you’ll be a lot likelier to get it than if you’d just stayed silent.

I think about this advice a lot, because it’s relevant almost constantly. I’m a shy person, not always skilled at advocating for myself or requesting the help I need. But I find, more often than not, that people are willing to help if you just make your desires known.

This comes up in sex all the damn time. Our cultural narratives tell us sex should be effortless and easy, and that if someone really loved you or was really good in bed, they’d be able to read your mind and give you what you want without you needing to ask.

Well, that’s nonsense. No one is a mind-reader, not even the Casanovas of the world. And while sexual chemistry can appear spontaneously with no effort required, it’s more often a collaborative creation: something you build with your partner through practice and, yes, communication.

If there’s something you want your partner to do, ask them. If they’re a decent person, the worst they can say is “No” – in which case, you’ll still be glad you asked, because at least now you know. And if they’re not a decent person, and they flip out at you or shame you, then you’ll know they aren’t worth one more millisecond of your time, and you can kick them out of your bed and your life with no hesitations.

All the best sexual adventures start with an idea and a little bravery. If you’ve already got your idea, then it’s time to be brave. Remember: you don’t ask, you don’t get!

5 Sexual Rules That Should Be Common Sense But Sadly Aren’t

Kate Sloan

1. Masturbate. This just makes sense. People who practice biking on their free time will do better in bike races, for example. I read so many stories on Sexxit about women (yes, it’s almost always women) who have trouble reaching orgasm during sex – or worse yet, have never reached an orgasm in their lives – and somehow don’t see their refusal to masturbate as the source of this problem. Folks, if you don’t jerk off on a regular basis, you don’t get to complain about your shitty sexual response.

2. Communicate. Anyone who’s ever read a sex blog, listened to a sex podcast, seen a sex TV show, or had good sex probably knows this rule. Sex tends to suck if you don’t talk about it. Doesn’t matter what you love or hate in bed, you need to tell your partner that information, or they can’t do a damn thing about it.

3. Bodies are inherently valid. This phrase is credited to the late, great Mark Aguhar. She was probably referring to the validity of bodies in a larger sense (body image, body politics, body dysphoria) but it applies to the way we should approach sex, too. Never make the mistake of thinking you don’t deserve pleasure just because you’re chubby, or “ugly,” or differently abled, or in transition. Your body is inherently valid and that means you deserve sex, good sex. We all have insecurities, many of which get dredged up in sexual situations, but that doesn’t mean we have to give those worries any credence.

4. Enthusiastic consent matters. I don’t just mean the big consent issues, the ones that center around rape. I also mean the smaller ways in which our culture dismisses the need for consent. People who don’t like to hug or shake hands are often branded “weird”; people who are uncomfortable with sensual and sexual touching get called “prudes”; the list goes on. Even within seemingly healthy relationships, there are plenty of expectations – for example, a woman who receives oral sex from a willing partner may feel obligated to give him a blowjob in return, even if she’s emotionally unequipped to do so on that night. The point is: check in with your partner, make sure they’re really okay with what’s happening, and be aware of the signals that might indicate when they’re not.

5. We get to choose how we identify. I’ve written about this before, because it’s important. No one can tell you what to call yourself or what you should be feeling. You can be a gay guy and still have sex with women if you want to. You can be a “femme in the streets, butch in the sheets.” You can identify as profoundly kinky and still have vanilla sex if that’s what you feel like doing. The acts you perform do not define you unless you want them to.

What are your sexual rules, principles, tenets, and values?

Things I Learned From My Friend With Benefits

Kate Sloan

When I was fifteen years old, I came out as bisexual. A lot of shit went down – I came out on Facebook, I got hit on by random queer schoolmates who came out of the woodwork, I had my first girlfriend (NBD, we only dated for a month), I attended my first Pride Parade… but maybe the most interesting thing that happened was that my female friend fell in love with me.

She was actually in love with me before we really became friends. She watched from afar, using social media and secondhand gossip as her telescope – and then we started talking, and then we became close. And then, eventually, we began a sexual relationship that would last a year and a half.

I’m not going to lie to you: it was weird. She loved me; I had no feelings for her beyond a friendly fondness. She worshipped my body; I thought she was kinda cute. She put her heart and soul into making love to me; I enjoyed our regular fucks. There’s a lot about that relationship that makes me feel kind of shitty in retrospect, but all the same, I’m very glad it happened, because it taught me most of what I know about the practical applications of sex.

1. Communication is hard. I grew up listening to Sex is Fun and Open Source Sex, so I knew how important it is to communicate with your sexual partner… but I guess I never realized how embarrassing and vulnerable it can be, until I actually had to do it. Even knowing that my partner was deadset on me and wouldn’t leave no matter what I said or did, it was still difficult for me to form basic sentences like “Could you lick a little harder?” Now, I have a lot more respect and understanding for people who get nervous about asking for what they want. There’s still no excuse for not stepping up to that responsibility, but I get it: it’s tough.

2. I love cunnilingus. Really, I do. It’s perfect and beautiful. It’s intimate and hot. It’s smooth and wet and tangy. It can be about dominance or submission or neither or both. I used to watch cunnilingus porn exclusively, thinking maybe my obsession would get diluted a little when I started having Real-Life Sex, and it did, a bit, but not really.

3. Sexual equality doesn’t always appear equal. This girl, she loved giving head. She could literally orgasm just from going down on me. She was way more of a giver than a receiver – and as I’m more on the receiver side of the spectrum, this worked for us. But at the same time, our friends viewed our connection from the outside and worried that we weren’t practicing equality. I see why they would wonder about that, but what they didn’t understand was that sexual equality isn’t about making sure each person gets the exact same treatment – it means making sure that each person gets exactly the same amount of what they really want. And we had that.

4. I love my body. If there’s one thing that can quell adolescent body image problems, it’s an adamant lover. Having someone obsess over the parts of you that you hate the most is indescribably wonderful. I frequently suffered spells of emotion when my lady-lover would say things like, “Please don’t talk about losing weight. You’re perfect the way you are.” Sometimes I think I’d still be insecure today, if not for that fateful tryst.

5. Friends-with-benefits situations can work… if handled properly. We always talked about our feelings. We always confessed if we were feeling jealous or smothered or neglected. We always told each other “where we were at,” even when that was scary or potentially hurtful. And we made our decisions accordingly, like when to take a break from each other, when to spend more time together, who to tell about us and who to keep in the dark. As a result, we both felt heard and respected, even if that sometimes meant getting our feelings bruised a little. I think that’s why we lasted so long.

6. Lesbian sex is great. Yup, the rumours are true – girly bodies, brought together in sexual union, are hot. But the thing is, good sex is good sex, regardless of gender. I learned that later, when I dated a guy. If your partner is enthusiastic, communicative, adventurous, and kind, the sex will be good, no matter who has what anatomy.

I learned so much from my teenage FWB. How to talk about sex, how to negotiate boundaries, how to enjoy my body with someone else’s. So even though our relationship ended on a sour note, I wouldn’t take it back – it formed the basis of all the awesome sex I’m having nowadays and will have for the rest of my days.