What You Really Really Want (25 page)

“It just happened” is incredibly common when it comes to sexual relationships. It's also the enemy of what you really really want.

When we say “it just happened” (and we don't mean “I was incredibly drunk or high or asleep and therefore not aware enough of my surroundings to have actively participated,” which is sexual assault, not sex), what we're doing is denying responsibility for our sexual and romantic decisions. That can feel pretty appealing, especially if you're not comfortable with your sexuality or don't believe you deserve pleasure and safety. If we imagine that sex and relationships “just happen” to us, that they're really beyond our control, then we can't be blamed for anything that goes wrong, or shamed for being the sexual people we are, or feel embarrassed for wanting satisfaction.

Trouble is, “it just happened” also denies us the opportunity to be active in pursuit of our own pleasure. There's no room in “it just happened” to know what you really really want, so there can't be any room to pursue it.

Letting things “just happen” can also be risky. If you're refusing responsibility for decision making, you're also probably paying less attention to your intuition. And you're less likely to speak up if something feels off, or if you want your partner to practice safer sex, or if something starts to hurt or freak you out and you want to stop.

It's not even always high-stakes negotiations where this winds up mattering. Take pity sex, for example. I slept with a guy out of pity once. It was horrible. We were on a first date, and he was funny and charming and smart and handsome, and basically let him know I was interested in sleeping with him before we even kissed. (Please take my advice and never do this: The way someone kisses can tell you a lot about how they'll do other things.) So we went back to his room, and as we're leaning in for that first kiss, he makes a stiff “O” with his lips and pokes his tongue out of it—before our lips even touch. I can still see it, coming at me in slow motion, and in my brain a thought flashed up as though on a screen:
I've made a serious miscalculation. Abort! Abort!

But did I? No, I felt too bad. It felt too impossibly awkward for me to stop him midkiss and say, “Actually, I've changed my mind.” So I slept with him. And it was terrible. I was just checked out the whole time, wondering when it would be over, and he was like an overenthusiastic, unhousebroken puppy. He had no idea how miserable I was, but that wasn't his fault—I was actively lying. Through my actions and my affect, I was doing my best to convince him I was having a great time, too.

Did anything horrible happen? Unless you count the hives I had at the end of the evening (his dog? His scratchy wool blanket? I still don't know), not really. I felt icky about it for a day or two (and still do when I think about it, including now), and I had to awkwardly tell him I just wasn't that into him when he followed up for a second date. Which must've been confusing for him, since I'd given him no sign the night before that I wasn't into him.

But it was also confusing for me, in dangerous ways—the same ways it's always confusing and dangerous when you ignore your instincts and violate your own boundaries. Which is why, if I ever find myself in a similar situation again, I hope my emotional muscles will be strong enough to allow me to speak up sooner.

It can be really tempting to leave these decisions up to other people. When you let someone else lead, you're not required to put yourself out there as much. If rejection feels scary to you, that can be awfully appealing. You can also avoid rejecting other people by going with their flow, at least in the short term. (Though trust that I speak from experience when I tell you that not telling someone you're not that into them when you're not that into them only leads to bad things for both of you down the road.)

But here's the thing: You can't have sexual relationships without messy, awkward, emotionally risky interactions. You just can't. You can deal with the messy, awkward, emotionally risky stuff up front and honestly and increase your chances of having fulfilling mutual interactions, or you can wait and hope it doesn't blow up in your face. But you can't engage on such an intimate level with another human being without it sometimes being weird. The sooner you make peace with that and stop imagining this stuff is easy for everyone but you (because it's not: It's messy, risky, and emotionally awkward for everyone), the sooner you'll stop letting things “just happen” and take control of your sexual and romantic life.

And the sooner you do that, the sooner you'll discover how awesome it can be. Talking freely about sex and safety with your
partners not only makes sex more fun and relaxed—because you're worrying less and getting more of what you really really want—but also makes it easier to tell the great partners from the ones you want to avoid before you get too hurt. And that information means your intuition will get better and better, which means you'll get even better at knowing your own desires and boundaries and finding people who can simultaneously respect and satisfy you. In short: It's the best possible kind of positive-feedback loop.

There are five basic things you'll ideally want to communicate about with any new sexual partner. They are:

This may sound like a lot of chitchat to get through before you get naked, but it doesn't have to be. (And it doesn't have to be finished before you take your clothes off.) As you get more comfortable with these conversations, you'll find that they can be brief, easy exchanges, at least when you're with partners who care about your needs. Some, like the STD status and safer sex talks, can be quickly dispatched, and others, like your turn-ons and turnoffs, can be ongoing conversations that unspool both in and out of bed. You'll get the hang of it, I promise. The
important thing is to just open your mouth and start. Which brings us to . . .

Let's get real for a minute: All this communication stuff may seem simple on paper, but it's a lot harder to do in practice, isn't it? When it comes to talking about sex with our partners, many of us are woefully short on practice. That's not our fault (for reasons we've already explored in this chapter), but it can still be a real obstacle, like it was for Ruby, age twenty:

So what to do when you want to have a key sex talk but can't seem to get the words out? There are no magic solutions, but there are a few approaches that can help.

I could write a little Mad Libs–style script here to help you learn how to communicate with your partner(s) about sex. I
thought about doing that. But no matter what I write, some of you would look at it and think,
Are you kidding me? She wants me to say what? No way would I ever say that.

And you'd be right. We all have our own strengths when it comes to communication. Some of us rely on humor when we want to get something across. Some of us are frank, unable to resist the direct approach. Some of us prefer talking things through in person, while others would rather have a personal conversation via email or phone.

What's important is to know your style and, if possible, the style preferences of your partner. Consider tone (blunt, sincere, funny, etc.), time (ASAP vs. need-some-time-to-think), and method of delivery (in person, phone, email, IM, text message, smoke signal, whatever). For example, I'm a pretty direct gal. I like to say what's on my mind as clearly and simply as possible. But I was in a relationship for a long while with a guy who would feel really cornered by my blunt declarations. Eventually we figured out that he found it much easier to deal when I sent them via email so he had time to think and feel and work out his response, and didn't feel so much like he was in the hot seat. While I prefer to communicate in person, that's much less important to me than being able to communicate directly, so I was happy to roll with that.

You may not know your sexual communication style yet, but I bet you know a thing or two about what approaches you gravitate toward when you're feeling awkward or vulnerable. Of course, context matters too—if you'd rather talk things out on the phone in advance, it's going to make spontaneous hookups harder to navigate. In cases like that, you've got a choice to
make: Would you rather learn a new skill or choose different kinds of sexual interactions?

It may be that, no matter what approach you try, you can't bring yourself to say, “Can we talk about using condoms?” or, “I like it so much better if it's nice and slow.” If you're truly tongue-tied, try telling on yourself. Instead of waiting and waiting until you can blurt out the subject at hand, get there earlier by starting once-removed, saying something like, “I keep wanting to talk with you about something, but it makes me feel so weird.” Or whatever describes how you're feeling. That gives your partner a chance to reassure and encourage you before you get to the bit that's tripping you up—and it significantly increases the chances you'll find a way to spit it out sooner rather than later.

A recent study showed that people who took on the role of a powerful character in a video game for just ninety seconds were more likely to flirt with someone they found attractive
afterward than were the folks who didn't play the game.
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There's a lesson to be learned here, and it's not just about flirting and video games: Doing something that makes us feel confident makes us, well, feel confident. So if you're anxious about sexual communication, one way to work up the nerve is to make sure to do things beforehand that are likely to give you a shot of power. Maybe you're a great cook and you know you can turn out a fantastic dinner. Maybe you're a strong athlete and you want to get a killer workout in. We all have things that make us feel capable and awesome. If you think you may need to do some challenging sexual chatting, find ways to work some confidence-boosters into the hours leading up to it.