Maybe it’s your nipple

Maybe it’s your nose

Maybe it’s the little spot

Just beneath your toes

 Maybe it’s your earlobe

Maybe it’s your clit

Maybe it’s your g-spot

That gets your fire lit

Maybe it’s my fingers

Maybe it’s my lips

Maybe it’s my tongue

As I lick toward your hips

Maybe it’s my embrace

Maybe it’s my kiss

Maybe it’s my desire

That drives you to your bliss

Baby if you tell me

Then for sure I’ll know

What I need to do

To make your fire glow.

Regina Sewell Maybe © 2001

Sex.  It’s used to sell everything from cell phones, to cars, to Vodka.  It’s a staple of magazines, music videos, TV shows and movies.  We talk about it.  We dream about it.  Some of us even put ourselves at risk in pursuit of it.  Nonetheless, when it comes to the actual act of sex, many of us struggle with the idea of discussing our sexual boundaries and desires with our partners.  Rather than actually asking our partners what feels good, we pretend that we know what our sexual partner wants or assume that they’ll tell us what to do and when to stop.  Rather than telling our partners what drives us to our bliss, many of us resign ourselves to accept whatever our partners do and hope that they do something that works.  At worst, we completely disregard their desires.    

There are probably more reasons for this than I can count, but I think there are several key reasons we don’t talk about sex.  First, even though we are, as a culture, obsessed with sex, we also learn from an early age that everything having to due with physical pleasure – whether it’s having sex or eating Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream - is imbued with shame.  This mixed message makes talking about sex awkward at best.

Third, the sexual scripts we have been handed definitely do not include sexual communication. 

Though these sexual scripts are different for women and men, they hit both sexes pretty hard.  Women learn from an early age that bad things will happen if we don’t “keep the gate closed.”  We get told to keep our panties hidden from view and securely on and our legs crossed tightly so that nothing can sneak in.  We are told that the penalty for not keeping the gate closed is high.  We risk being raped or experiencing some other form of sexual violation.  And even if we manage to navigate around those waters, the cultural mandate is that “good girls don’t” and those who “do” risk being labeled a “slut” or a “whore.”  Add to this, we don’t have a lot of empowering words to describe our sexual parts.  This reinforces the shame and discomfort many women feel when we try to talk about sex.  It’s hard to feel sexy saying, “I’d really like you to touch my cunt,” or “I’d really like you to lick my pussy” when we are so well aware of the fact that these words are used to denigrate us.  More technical words like “vulva,” “clitoris,” and “vagina” can end up feeling a bit sterile, while hip words like “va jay jay” and “honey pot” can feel a little – well – childish.  Many of us get around this potential shame by not talking about sex at all or through the use of innuendo. 

Men learn a different script.  They are supposed to “get in the gate.”  Men are ranked by their masculinity and the most surefire way to get masculinity points is to “score” sexually. These points are important because they translate into social power.  It’s as if men are automatically forced into a ruthless game of “king of the hill” that is, in part, determined by sexual prowess.  To ask for explicit directions can feel tantamount to saying, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”  Who wants to admit that?  Furthermore, “real men,” according to the culture, are also supposed to want sex, anywhere, anyhow, anytime and to be able to “get it up” at the drop of a pin (hence the popularity of Viagra).  In a sexually tinged encounter, this can lead to the assumption, “of course he wants to have sex.”   

There is an obvious problem associated with basing sexual actions on innuendos and assumptions.  According to state law, if we don’t get our partner’s consent for what we’re doing, what we’re doing to our partner could be rape.  The only way to be sure we have consent is to ask.  But there’s more to talking about sex than merely getting a general “all systems go.”  We are not like a “paint by numbers” picture.  What feels great to one person may feel irritating or even painful to the next.  This not only pertains to whether someone wants to be fisted or tied up or to where someone likes to be touched, kissed and licked but also to intricate details like how much pressure and at what speed feels best.  In addition to making for more mutually satisfying sex, talking explicitly with our partners about what does and doesn’t feel good to us allows us to connect with our sexual partners in truer, deeper, more honest ways and leads to deeper emotional intimacy.