Scarleteen

Hi everyone!

I haven't been here in a while -- I think 4 years? Love, love, LOVE the new format and landing pages. Super cute. I really appreciate the work you all continue to do and have referred many a young person to Scarleteen over the years, and have made many a reference to discussions I've had and perspectives I've heard here, especially all the thoughtful things Heather had to say to me a few years ago. I'm really grateful for how generous you all are with your time.

I'm still in the same relationship I was in when I first posted some 4 years ago. Things are good, and keep getting better. We are good at talking about sex and sexuality and creating our own out of what works for us. He has started cooking me tasty dinners.

Big picture, though, the sex still follows the same pattern it did when we first got together: the overwhelming vast majority of it is about his physical pleasure, and I end up feeling alone and sad for a while after. (We have had a lot of conversations about this. The ratio of sex focused just on him vs. any amount of attention on me "receiving" has improved mostly by the vehicle of us having less and less sex in general. Which does not feel like an "improvement" at all since it's not really about having more sex that feels good, but it does make the situation feel less urgently bad than when I was on the "giving" end every single night and on the "receiving" end a few times a year.)

It's a work in progress, and we talk about it. What I'm looking for here is concrete advice in what I can do to feel better in those after-sex moments. (Though empathy and a vibe check about the situation and how I should deal with it never hurts. Obviously I am feeling a dejected type of way about it even if I am trying to act like this is a purely productive answer-brainstorm post.)

I had a bit of a breakthrough today after this happened again thinking about Emily and Amelia Nagoski's Burnout book, and how sexual arousal is just another kind of arousal -- or stress -- for the body, and that cycle needs to be "closed" in the same sort of way.

Here's what happened today: he was folding his laundry. I was feeling turned on. I initiated sex and went down on him. We enjoyed it. He finished and immediately put his clothes back on and kept folding his laundry, telling me he didn't want to do anything else (which is 100% okay) because he needed to get so much done, like finishing his laundry.

That's fine. And I just went and cleaned the kitchen. But I felt the familiar gnawing excited-sad-empty feeling growing in me as I folded towels and put things back in the fridge.

I know there's kind of two things going on here:
1. I enjoyed that interaction completely, but after I also found I wanted sexual attention on my self and my own erogenous zones, and felt weird being left in the lurch with it suddenly being over, and
2. Even "non-sexual" aftercare (just cuddling) would have helped me come down some from that state of bodily stress and arousal.

He didn't want to do 1 then, which is totally valid. In retrospect I should have explicitly asked for 2. I was feeling bad and quiet and just moving on autopilot and hadn't thought to ask for that. After a while he noticed I seemed far away and quiet and we talked about it and he understands where I am and what I'm feeling.

I'm also just..... REAL sensitive about all this after four years of having sex like this. Sex that's physically all about him and then too often he immediately leaves for work or goes to sleep or goes back to doing something else. And it feels like maybe it'll always be this way and the only way it'll change is us just having less sex overall. I should be more cognizant and vocal about what would help and ask for it, and I'm still learning. (I also just read Come Together, the new Nagoski book on sex in long-term relationships. Excellent stuff. Lots of wisdom there. He's still saying he's gonna read Come as You Are, but hasn't yet. I've given my copy away to three different friends and keep getting new ones.)

But if this is just the kind of interaction I might have a lot, I want to learn how to be more resilient about it on my own and take care of myself better.

Honestly, I should have just snuck off on my own to masturbate after. We live in fairly small quarters together and I feel sensitive and self conscious about all this (e.g. what if I make him feel bad about himself, etc.) so it's tricky but I think I need to get better at just doing it.

We have also talked before about how he could just hold me (and stay awake, ideally) while I get myself off occasionally, so I could have asked if that was something he was up for doing. Though I do, at a certain point, just feel needy in a way that feels gross and I don't want to be pushy, especially since I'm "woke enough" about sexuality to know that I shouldn't be pursuing goals in sex, that orgasms aren't necessary, etc.

I want more ideas about how I can make myself feel better, by myself, in this situation. Today I ended up sitting down and doodling the hexagons from our shower tile, which turned into doing weird math and proving geometric sequences on paper for myself. Which was a... really strange, dorky form of play, but a really fun one that channeled my unresolved energy and lifted my spirits with the excitement of discovery.

I think I could also go for a long walk by myself or go to the gym or something.

After this happens when I feel lonely about it I always want to talk to someone -- outside of my relationship -- about it (like I'm doing here, I guess) but most often do not since it feels like a problematic impulse to share intimacy with someone else (no one in particular, I just want to feel seen and understood in this) by talking about something that feels bad in this monogamous relationship. This feels to me like "emotional cheating" which feels really frustrating since sometimes I just really, REALLY want someone to know how much this hurts, without me having to get both of us down in a spiral of feeling bad about it or risking making him feel insecure about it and not wanting to have sex with me at all.

(Also, yes, I do talk to him about it after. It's constructive -- or feels that way -- but I'm still here in this dtate a lot. Change is slow, I guess.)

Anyone have any other closing-the-stress-response-cycle ideas specifically for when you're left feeling high and dry and alone after sex? How to do aftercare for yourself, especially if the other person has to go do something (like, say, go to work right then) and can't help? Or if you just want to get better at taking care of yourself sexually, sensually, emotionally so you don't feel this disappointed and helpless every time?

Thanks a million!

Hello Sandpiper, and welcome back! Thank you for the compliments! I’ll be sure to share them with the other volunteers and the staff.

I’ve read through your previous posts, and I’m glad to hear that your relationship has gotten better in some ways! Before we get to your actual question, I want to talk about somethings that stood out to me from your post. Essentially, I’m wondering if trying to stop how you’re feeling all on your own isn’t the best approach. I hope you won’t mind.

“Though I do, at a certain point, just feel needy in a way that feels gross and I don't want to be pushy, especially since I'm "woke enough" about sexuality to know that I shouldn't be pursuing goals in sex, that orgasms aren't necessary, etc.”

To begin, nothing you’ve described reads as pushy or needy to me, nor does it seem non-woke. When people say that orgasms are not necessary, I think they are reacting to a narrative that makes orgasming singularly important, to the exclusion of all the other pleasurable parts of sex. When people advise against having goals, I think their point is that pressure to achieve specific goals during sex can take you out of the moment. None of this means that it is wrong for you to want to orgasm. That is a very reasonable desire.

Something that is necessary is your happiness and satisfaction. It is okay for you to make being happy and satisfied a goal. If your partner only wants to have sex that focuses on his pleasure, that is fine. But I think he should be honest and upfront about that, instead of making promises that he doesn’t seem to keep. And if he can have needs, so can you.

I can clearly see that you care a lot about this relationship. You want to respect your partner’s boundaries and keep him from being hurt by your actions. However, you cannot self-care and problem solve your needs out of existence. If you really want, we can talk about ways to take care of yourself here. But I have a feeling that you must have great self regulation skills already - you’ve lived at least four years like this. Your ideas for how you might handle this on your own are great, but I’m a bit hesitant to suggest any more, because they would only be a temporary solution. Even though you are trying to be in productive brainstorm mode, it seems like you are unhappy. With all respect, I’m not sure this situation is sustainable.

Help me understand something. Has your partner really indicated that he feels bad about himself when you masturbate? If that is the case, he is putting you in a difficult position. Setting aside the fact that masturbation is not an exact replacement for partnered sex, this would mean that he takes no initiative to center your sexual pleasure, and doesn’t support you when you try to do so yourself. That seems unfair, and it puts disproportionate pressure on you to manage his feelings, even when you are in need of care yourself. I know you’ve said your relationship has improved, and I believe you. However, at least with this subject, it seems like your partner never meets you in the middle or takes active steps to help you. You’ve framed this as a problem where you just need to communicate and handle your feelings better, but I’m not sure that is the case. You have done quite a lot of both already. It is good that your partner listens when you are hurt, but he needs to make actual changes.

“…when I feel lonely about it I always want to talk to someone -- outside of my relationship -- about it (like I'm doing here, I guess) but most often do not since it feels like a problematic impulse…”

I’m honestly glad you came here to talk to us about this. Confiding in other people about things that are bothering you, wanting to be seen and understood… these are not cheating. I think they are essential to healthy relationships. Trying to solve issues in any relationship without external support is difficult. Other people can provide us with support, help us feel better, and give us perspectives that we don’t have.

I’ve said a lot already, so I’ll pause here. How do you feel about this so far?

Hi Latha!

Thank you so much for your thoughtful response. It was really validating to read and got me thinking.

When it comes to masturbation: I don't think it is a huge thing that makes him feel bad about himself. Personally I still feel a bit self conscious about it and also logistically have a hard time sorting out when/where/how to do it when we live together. We always had separate bedrooms until around 3 months ago we moved into one, which makes things a bit more challenging privacy wise (though I value the opportunity for time and touch together and him helping me reel in my circadian rhythm going to bed together consistently, and I hadn't particularly liked, used, or valued my last several too-tiny-for-furniture bedrooms much, so I don't regret it). The other room is still there but is kind of an in-transition storage space as we prep it for a friend to move into when she comes home from teaching abroad.

A few years ago he felt more insecure about it, but I think now he's mostly fine. If I mention the fact that I masturbated earlier when talking about my day and what I did, or what I was doing at a particular time, he's kind of frowny and apologetic, like it reminds him of a sense he isn't doing something right, though he knows cerebrally that's a perfectly normal thing for me to do. He makes a weird sad little face and says sorry, but it doesn't become a whole conversation.

So I guess he does indicate he feels a little bad about it, though I also feel like that... Isn't my problem? I dunno, I'm gradually getting better at kind of not giving a damn about this stuff and just trying to do what works for me in my own private life anyway. Still, I find it hard to find and make time and place -- though this is as much about my own priorities and self-care as anything else, since I really wasn't great about making time for it for a few years when I had my own bedroom and a bit more privacy anyway.

I recently quit a full-time physically-demanding job that kept me out of the house all the time, and am now home more often working on a business and working a few events outside the home a few days a week. He has a hybrid job where he ends up working from home most days, and also has some computer based hobbies (like DND) he takes up from a desk in our bedroom. I'm trying to find out ways to carve out space on my own to masturbate without it being a whole thing I have to talk about, and/or a way to talk about it that isn't a vibe-killing amount of weird. I've just found it hard to get myself to do with both of us home since we moved in together some 2-3 years ago, but that's my own sensitivity as much as anything else.

He's said he's okay with me just doing it next to him while he's asleep but I can't shake how weird that feels, either? Like I'm both alone in an isolated way and I still have him as an audience to be conscious of. And I'd always want to ask if that's okay as a courtesy regardless; last night I actually did ask but he was already asleep, so I ended up just lying awake feeling weird about it all for a couple hours.

A part of what feels indiscreet to me is that I tend to use a vibrator much of the time -- I can do it by hand too, but I always take around an hour or more to reach orgasm which is valid and fine but also quite difficult to schedule around. So it's either a method I'm paranoid is noisy, or a kind of prohibitive amount of time to set aside.

Once or twice the last couple months I've explicitly asked for him to hold me and touch me while I masturbate after he's finished, which I found nice as long as I could get past a vague paranoia he might be feeling weird about it. In any case it felt better than the times he'd listlessly tried to "finish me off" with a vibrator after but I could tell he wasn't into it and no part of it was particularly exciting or sexy to me and thus we both just felt an awkward sense of having to get something done (my orgasm) that no one particularly wanted to do, sitting around waiting to check off the list. That sort of experience always made me feel like I was using him, everyone involved was bored, and it just wasn't fun.

I think he's just done after he's finished and doesn't want to do much else sexually, which is fine. I could be better at asking to at least cuddle and connect for a time after. When I brought this up most recently his only suggestion was us somehow trying to make simultaneous orgasm a goal, which seemed... difficult and counter-productive, considering that's kind of an unrealistic ideal in even the best of circumstances, and the few times we've tried at something similar have just been me trying to "force one out" (orgasm goal-seeking in a not-great way) just to "get it done" while doing something else for his pleasure, splitting my attention and, to use the popular phrase, half-assing two things.

All this makes me feel rather bored and uninspired. I think another part of this dynamic is that I usually initiate, and that initiating always consists of taking a lead in some (fun for both of us) activity mostly focused on his physically "receiving" my touch. I guess I could try to initiate more in an asking-for-something-else way. I just don't know how to do that. How are you supposed to initiate that sort of sexual encounter? It feels instinctively to me like trickery, or like asking something of someone you can only assume they aren't in the mood for and putting them in a weird position.

As I've started to give less of a sensitive damn about all this the last six months or so I've started openly talking about when I'm feeling particularly horny as a sort of initiating middle-ground, where he can decide what he does with that information.

(For me it's mostly the week before my period -- for some reason I get really turned on that week, but am also more emotionally volatile generally, and the impending period feels like an incoming week of lost opportunities, and the periodicity of it reminds me it's been another month since having a certain kind of physical attention... all of which makes this stuff feel really especially sensitive and upsetting once a month. I talk about this basically every month, and he is well aware of it.)

He doesn't really do anything with that information, and also dislikes scheduling sex, which we tried at some point.

When I think of the time in my life I felt the most sexual excitement and pleasure... it was an idyllic summer we spent apart a few years ago, when I lived with several great female friends (one of which is coming to live with us in a few months) and went for long walks and burned nice candles and masturbated to my heart's content in my large-enough-for-bed-and-desk room. I was self-conscious about the friends hearing my vibrator, so that summer I really learned to enjoy doing it by hand, lazily, taking my time and enjoying myself.

Then fall came and we moved in together and I haven't been able to shake a certain space-awareness of coexisting and interacting with him whenever we both are home -- which is most of the time I am home -- both of us hearing each other and interacting even when not in the same room.

Counterintuitively I'm hoping adding more people to our apartment will create a fun living-with-friends atmosphere where I feel more like my own person instead of that thick awareness of two people exclusively living in each other's space, so even though we will have less privacy I think it will feel like more; this is what it has felt like whenever we have friends come to stay in our new temporary guest room, and we both are excited and want to have more friends around. Frankly, I want to feel more like roommates and less enmeshed in each other's feelings, and I've been working on getting there emotionally, and having more people around helps.

A month or two ago he expressed maybe he just doesn't want to have sex anymore for a time and honestly, I felt relief. I felt elation thinking of us in more of an explicitly sexless QPR, just two best friends who get along famously and throw great dinner parties and cuddle. I've kind of been trying to mentally think of us as such for the last 6-8 months -- as bonded best friends foremost, as people in a monogamous dyad, who may or may not have sex together, but without the cultural baggage of "boyfriend"/"girlfriend" heterosexual expectations.

We talked a lot about this -- very casually, with no tears -- and felt very comfortable that we are both on this page, where just being friends and supporting each other is the important thing and all the cultural "romantic relationship" stuff felt just like extraneous stuff. I was okay with having a sexual relationship with this person, or not -- either one is fine -- and the "not" felt like a relief because it felt like freedom from this cycle of frustration if we just wrote it all off entirely.

Luckily/unluckily he felt so seen and liberated by these conversations that in a day or two he decided he does want to keep having sex after all. And I am happy to do it too, in the moment -- it's just after that I feel weird and alone sometimes.

Sorry this is a bit of a messy ramble -- just spilling miscellaneous thoughts about this as I sort it all out!

Hey there sandpiper,

Sometimes a messy ramble is what we need to piece together our thoughts!

I want to focus on the sense of "relief" you mentioned when the option of not having sex with your partner was present. This feeling of relief after not having to do something indicates to me that something is unsustainable and without change to the current state of things, will be costly on your wellbeing and relationship. Relief often comes when something is weighing too heavily on us.

I agree with Latha that we should focus on the relational aspects that lead you to feeling lonely/sad after sex rather than self-care and dealing with things on your own because it seems to me like you're already doing a great job at recognizing your needs and have been dealing with a lot of things on your own.

"Once or twice the last couple months I've explicitly asked for him to hold me and touch me while I masturbate after he's finished, which I found nice as long as I could get past a vague paranoia he might be feeling weird about it."

I recognize that asking for things may feel difficult especially if this has been an ongoing conversation since 4 years ago. I can also appreciate that you're looking out for how your partner is feeling and making sure they feel comfortable. AND I think you can trust that your partner will voice when they're not feeling comfortable and/or they're not wanting to engage in that kind of touch. It's not up to you to always be on high alert on what they may be thinking. Do you feel like this form of intimacy while you masturbate helps with feelings of loneliness/isolation after sex? If so, bringing this up to your partner as something that feels really good and helps you feel more connected might be a good idea.

All this makes me feel rather bored and uninspired. I think another part of this dynamic is that I usually initiate, and that initiating always consists of taking a lead in some (fun for both of us) activity mostly focused on his physically "receiving" my touch. I guess I could try to initiate more in an asking-for-something-else way. I just don't know how to do that. How are you supposed to initiate that sort of sexual encounter? It feels instinctively to me like trickery, or like asking something of someone you can only assume they aren't in the mood for and putting them in a weird position.

In relationships, especially longer-term ones, people tend to fall into sexual scripts. It seems that in your relationship, you're following the same pattern of things with the way sex is initiated (you always being the one to initiate). I think that taking the route of asking for what you really want rather than starting sex as a means to get touch/feel connected may help break out of this script. This can look like being up front asking for being touched in a specific way or place. It can also look like asking for something that you really enjoy when you and your partner have sex. The beauty of this, is that by asking we give our partners the permission to say no. Asking in this way is not only a good way for you to practice voicing your desires but also a way to find some freedom from normative sex scripts.

I'll share this piece with you on this topic of initiating sex: Partner never initiates sex. I feel unwanted. What can I do? The second half of this article is focused on some of the things we've talked about in regards to initiating sex. Give it a read and let me know if anything comes up that you're wanting to chat about more?

Hi Ro!

Wow! That piece you shared was a lot more relatable than I expected. I'd assumed it would be the standard sort of primer on spontaneous/responsive desire and how it's okay for one person to initiate more, how curiosity is a valid place to explore sex from, etc. But the person asking the question does sound a lot like me in a lot of ways (not the name calling anymore -- though a couple years ago he used to jokingly refer to me as a harlot, strumpet, and other old-timey names for sexual women afterwards, but I told him to stop and that's not a thing anymore, lol).

I think we both have some weird discouragement left to unravel about this dynamic. I can understand that repeatedly talking about this might only feel like more pressure from his perspective to do things perfectly, which might be discouraging.

I know that in most of those rare interactions where I feel like I am receiving more physical attention, much of my brain has been occupied by trying to make the most of it, enjoying it "right," constantly demonstrating my enjoyment and enthusiasm and being encouraging, squeezing everything out of this opportunity -- including an orgasm, not for my own enjoyment, but to make him feel rewarded and good about himself. I have mostly shaken this off -- I feel like I'm just hitting a tired level of "I don't really care" in reaction to that too-intense level of concern about someone else's emotional well-being for years, and that honestly feels really good to access, is finally being able to be in places of "Whatever, I'm over it, I don't care, I'm tired, I want to feel good."

It still feels tricky to untangle interpersonally, though. For instance, I'd been vocal for a while about that intense performance and spectatoring taking up all my attention, so over the last year or so sometimes while receiving I ask if it's okay if I try to just be quiet and focus on my own pleasure, trying to take pressure off myself to perform encouragement and enthusiasm. He always says yes, go for it. But in our last big conversation about this, he said it has actually felt really discouraging and like he's getting no feedback when I try to step away from performing in that way. He made it sound like those experiences were actively discouraging him from trying again.

(Not that I'm just lying there entirely limp -- more like I'm trying to tone down the moaning and writhing and just focus on paying attention to my body -- although, since I'm ultimately doing this as just one more strategy to "achieve" pleasure in some more authentic way to please him, this ends up just being a quiet and still not very fun self conscious time of trying to squeeze something out.)

So that didn't really work as a strategy. I do feel like I'm getting to a point where I'm accessing a sense of "I don't really care to wade through levels of how we feel about each other and this, and you can tell me if you're not feeling something" that feels liberating.

Leaning into that, I think I can ask for things more explicitly, more often and just accept that it's ultimately not for me to try to parse out how he's really feeling about it or decide for him whether he wants to do it. Easier said than done, but I'm working on it. Feels weird to call that I'm-done-I'm-tired-I'm-over-it feeling a good thing, but it feels like a relief and a step towards just unashamedly feeling my own pleasure without overthinking how he might be feeling about it.

Ro S wrote: ↑Mon Mar 24, 2025 12:47 am I want to focus on the sense of "relief" you mentioned when the option of not having sex with your partner was present. This feeling of relief after not having to do something indicates to me that something is unsustainable and without change to the current state of things, will be costly on your wellbeing and relationship. Relief often comes when something is weighing too heavily on us.

This is definitely true. There have been times when this stuff feels really exhausting breaking-point unhappy for me, like something really, really needs to change. Usually then we have a conversation about it where I feel heard and seen that releases the built up resentment pressure for a handful more months, even though ultimately things kind of stay the same.

I did find something really interesting in the new Come Together book by Dr. Emily Nagoski related to this. She says no sexual difficulty is ever worth breaking up and otherwise good relationship over, and if it feels like it is that's a sign the sex is coming to represent more than just sex to you -- say, that you take your self worth from it more than would be healthy, or it is your only form of intimacy, etc.

I am definitely guilty of initiating sex from a place of "I feel like I need to thank you for something or demonstrate appreciation"/"I want to feel lovable and connected"/"I feel scared something is breaking and want to fix it"/"this is just what I assume we do now" and any number of other reasons, though as I've started initiating less frequently over the years we've been together (and thus we've had far less sex) I've largely cut down on these.

In the beginning it might have been fair the sex emphasized an overall imbalance in effort in the relationship, but ultimately things feel a lot better now. I feel extremely supported -- by and large I actually feel happy and like I am getting "the better deal" -- which funnily enough feels wrong to me. It feels like I am having a streak of good luck that is going to run out / that I did more than my fair share for a time and that's the only reason I can have this, but it will end. It's a weird feeling and one that does make me feel like I should be "giving" sex in this way to "compensate" for everything else being good sometimes. Regardless, sex feels like the last frontier and everything else feels pretty good and supportive now.

Oops, sorry to come back here three times in one day!

Just serendipitously I ended up getting curious about and reading Emily Wilson's article, "How to be Naked in More Ways than One," on this site. I thought that was a really beautiful piece.

I felt really seen in the discussion of the pressure for women to perform pleasure and really inspired by the discussion of vulnerability: "I believe that sexual pleasure with someone else can only truly be found through vulnerability, through the radical act of maybe not knowing, in being willing to potentially even embarrass yourself in the pursuit of something greater. "

For me, I connect this with the insecure, excessive need-to-make-sure-you're-100%-okay-and-really-want-this paranoid sort of impulse I get whenever receiving any kind of physical sensual and sexual attention. I'm realizing I only really am making sex "worse" (more awkward/stilted/self-conscious/forced) by excessively reminding my partner he doesn't need to do anything he doesn't want to do, etc., over and over again. He knows that. Either I need to be able to trust his ability to emotionally take care of himself and continue to mentally move on from that emotional spiral risk or I need to move on and just not have sex with someone where I'm so caught up in that impulse.

He agrees with me on this -- that this sort of insecure quintuple-checking, as well as an urge to somehow make up for the fact I'm happy and fulfilled right now in this relationship, or prepare for it to end, or to "pay it back," all betrays a sort of emotional lack of faith (not as in cheating -- as in having a hard time believing he's really okay and enjoying this as he says he is and this relationship can feel good, for me, long-term).

I know he's frustrated by this and has expressed at times a frustration that I seem to be reacting to a way he used to be, and not a way he is anymore. (A non-sexual example: he used to get really jealous and insecure about me hanging out with a mutual friend of ours without him, and felt like we were excluding him. I've let that friendship really fall to the wayside since I got in the habit years ago of not wanting to ever hang out or talk much without him. A few months ago I really nervously asked if it would be okay if I called this friend and he was like, what? And had apparently completely forgotten about that being a thing. He frankly is on the level about the fact he was kind of a jerk in a lot of ways for especially the first year or two we were dating, and apologizes for it, and still understandably can feel a little frustrated at times when my mental model of him isn't who he is now.)

I guess relationally, maybe a better, more honest question here for me is... how do I work on changing that model and trusting and believing the ways someone has changed when they used to be kind of a jerk? How do I create more of a sense of calm comfort and confidence in myself that a person isn't who they used to be, that I don't have to emotionally take care of them in this really careful on-eggshells way, that I can take risks and do things like ask for what I want and can revel in feeling supported and happy and at peace in my relationship (and frankly go about repairing things effectively where I'm not)?

I do feel that every time we have the big sex-and-attention-and-effort conversation I get more frank and over-it honest and thus it improves. I'm moving away from a hyper-sensitivity to ever possibly hurting his feelings with time -- not that I want to hurt his feelings or don't think about it, but I'm getting better at acting like he's a mature adult. I guess that gets better with time and experience and there's no one way to go about healing that sense of faith and trust in a person to be able to handle themselves. But I would be interested to hear any advice.

(Anecdotally from the trenches: we had really good sex last night and again today. Last night I explicitly said I was going to masturbate, was that fine, and he said it was, and I believed him and didn't do TOO much are-you-sure circling and just did it and he held me and traced circles on my skin through my silky pajamas and ended up taking over for a bit and it just felt lovely. Then today, I initiated just making out but then we moved to the bed and he focused his attention on just touching me, and I did a little bit of "are you sure you don't have to do anything you don't want to" but noticed it only really took away from the experience. So we had that rare experience of him just paying attention to me again for a while before I turned mine to him, and it felt really nice. Then I wanted more afterwards and just said I was going to finish myself off, and he held and touched me during again which also felt really good. So, progress! I think I just... need to keep it top of mind for him by being more assertive and spending far less mental energy trying to hold his hand emotionally and make sure he's 1000000% comfortable and ego-happy all the time.)

Hi sandpiper!

I am so glad you found the advice article that Ro sent helpful. I really like that piece, too, and I want to say the emphasis in that advice answer that this is work for him to do seems relatable to your situation too. It sounds like you’ve communicated your feelings and experiences to him multiple times; in my opinion, it’s time for him to take that in and do the work to approach sex differently.

I also hear you that, after feeling like you need to take care of his emotions for so long, when you do finally receive attention, you feel concerned about the performance of it, or making the most of it. I am glad you have moments of liberation from this feeling, and those moments should be celebrated! I can appreciate the natural reaction to want to perform, but I do also think that could be a form of continued focus on him and his needs, know what I mean? It sounds like he’s taking steps to focus on you more, but his response to you expressing those feelings about performance and spectatorship suggests to me that he may still be centering himself in sexual interactions.

I’m wondering if the distinction between performance and organic feedback might be helpful for him to understand; too, the idea that organic feedback during sex doesn’t always look like a huge spectacle. But again, I don’t want you to put that on a docket of things to tell him or make the work easier for him, you know? I don’t want to sound harsh at all, as I know he is communicating with you and making some changes here, but I want to say that the journey he’ll go on with approaching sex differently is not one that should be made easier through you doing more work; it’s a part of the process for him to work through some more challenging self-reflection.

Leaning into that, I think I can ask for things more explicitly, more often and just accept that it's ultimately not for me to try to parse out how he's really feeling about it or decide for him whether he wants to do it. Easier said than done, but I'm working on it. Feels weird to call that I'm-done-I'm-tired-I'm-over-it feeling a good thing, but it feels like a relief and a step towards just unashamedly feeling my own pleasure without overthinking how he might be feeling about it.

You know, coming to accept your own needs as priority can be a process, especially after a time of your needs being ignored. The little moments that feel liberating should be celebrated! Listen to that feeling of relief, I think those good feelings are an indication that you’re on the right track. I hear you that it can feel weird to call it a good thing, but if I might, I have a feeling that the moments of guilt could be a little twinge of remnants from “focusing on Only Him”’s past. Does that make sense?

Ooooh, I love Emily Nagoski’s work, especially her new book. I saw her speak at a conference in December with some Scarleteen colleagues, and she talked about the new book and some of her favorite insights from it. I agree with that insight that, when sex feels like a dealbreaker, it indicates a deeper entanglement between sex and something else. So, if you’re feeling like sex has become entangled with feelings of what we owe the other in a relationship, or feelings of performance, we can certainly feel that the sex is the problem.

Did you read the part of her new book about pleasure mapping? I’m wondering if you had thoughts on that. I liked the element of using pleasure maps with a partner to help them understand where you’re coming from with pleasure and arousal, including what your needs are to get to a place where desire and arousal can be accessed; did you have thoughts on that part?

I also think what you said here is spot on:

Either I need to be able to trust his ability to emotionally take care of himself and continue to mentally move on from that emotional spiral risk or I need to move on and just not have sex with someone where I'm so caught up in that impulse.

Choosing to not have sex with someone where, because of how they treated us in the past, we feel caught up in that impulse to focus only on them, is a self-protective and liberatory measure to take, in my opinion. Is there a reason you’re hesitant with that part?

With regard to how you’re feeling about this being a stroke of luck or that things will go back to the way they were, my answer to that ties in with my advice on how to trust that he’s changed, which is to simply let him show you, while keeping your boundaries with him intact. What you quoted here is so good: "I believe that sexual pleasure with someone else can only truly be found through vulnerability, through the radical act of maybe not knowing, in being willing to potentially even embarrass yourself in the pursuit of something greater. " Applying this idea, I think the way to trust if he’s changed is to let him show you if he has changed or not. I do also think it could be worth asking you directly: do you feel like he’s changed meaningfully?

Hey KierC!

Thanks so much again for your thoughtful reply. You sure ask some good questions. I've been spending a little time thinking about them, and just reading around the site too. There were two more pieces I read that made me feel really seen: an advice column called "Why Do I Feel So Bad Later When It Feels So Good at the Time?" and the "Safer Sex... For Your Heart" article. (I also reread Heather's "Immodest Proposal" article I remember reading several years ago and felt really inspired by the possibilities there. I sent that one along to my little brother!)

Choosing to not have sex with someone where, because of how they treated us in the past, we feel caught up in that impulse to focus only on them, is a self-protective and liberatory measure to take, in my opinion. Is there a reason you’re hesitant with that part?

That's a really... validating perspective, thank you. I think frankly I have never considered just not having sex (with him) anymore because it was a sort of out-of-the-script suggestion that never occurred to me as something you could do. I also honestly am feeling less acutely distressed by it right now (since we had a recent validating conversation and also a couple of sexual interactions that felt good during and after) and so I have this sense of "it's not a problem anymore, carry on." But considering it's been a cyclical thing and something I've been sensitive about for years, probably it behooves me to keep doing some serious thinking about it and planning potential things I could do in the future even if not acutely upset.

Honestly, reading those articles and advice columns, I am really feeeeling the feels about the way I had sex that just didn't feel good during or before or after for a long while. (And so now I guess, at least feeling good during but not after feels like an improvement? Lol.) Looking at the checklist of "symptoms" in the "Safe Sex For your Heart" article, I was hitting every single one for the first year or two of our relationship. Especially the first year. Everything is a lot better now, but I think that first year kind of did a number on me. I really wish I hadn't done all that but I guess hindsight's 20/20. I had a vague sense -- through conversations I had here -- that participating in sex I really didn't want (even by myself) just to "get it done" or accomplish something was maybe sort of like traumatizing myself, but I kind of felt empty and devil-may-care about it since I was generally depressed, had no prior or positive sexual experience, and thus kind of felt like everything felt bad all the same and I didn't have anything to lose.

It hurts to think about the fact I spent so long -- a year isn't that long, but also yes it is -- having so much sex that I wasn't enjoying during, that I was biting my nails feeling the pit in my stomach about before, and that I felt so lonely and isolated after. I feel like to a certain extent my ongoing sensitivity to these feelings now is a bit of an emotional hangover -- because the situation has never 100% resolved, sure, but also feeling outsized in response to things that happened way, way before.

I know there's no easy or straightforward way to heal from that; even Nagoski in the chapter about relationship change and about healing past hurts in the new book basically says there's no one straight way to it and it's really hard. There's an exercise in there (after thinking of the hurt as a third thing outside the two of you and not feeling really personally at-fault and reactionary about it) where you daydream about an ideal "what if?" followup for when the hurt happened. Like, what if I had exactly what I needed to feel better and reconnect in those moments? I haven't really let myself dive entirely into that yet because it seems like a lot to feel -- even just reading that chapter for the first time, without directly consciously connecting it to anything or knowing why, really made me want to cry -- but I'm going to try to go there at some point.

So, lot of weird grief there, I guess. It always feels like an ugly unresolved corner, something I could really blow up in my head if I wanted to feel bad on purpose. Closure is a thing you gift yourself and I guess I'm going to have to figure out how to do that for myself, since I know I won't get any real answers to why everything was so weird (and in retrospect kind of cringe and terrible) the first year of our relationship. He doesn't know why either, and has apologized over and acknowledged more and more with time he was kind of a jerk back then.

It feels really strange to me -- often like we were in an arranged relationship of some sort, except I "arranged" it myself by starting a relationship with someone I wasn't really attracted to (he was a really nice friend I had had a little "makes class more fun" crush on at some point a year or so prior, but by the time we started a romantic and sexual relationship I was mostly over it, he started sending me more and more sexual memes and the like, and I think I was so overwhelmed by the attention and the sense I'd always had that this would never happen to me -- and yet here, it was, happening -- which both seemed incredibly exciting in the validation of something about me being want-able and also terrifying and sickening, and that the thing to do is to go along with it, that there really is nothing else TO do) and getting through some weird rough times, through to a point where we are, overall, good life partners (as best friends who can be really uniquely silly together) and people who can really enjoy sex together, just some corners of it all still feel weird.

Like, it feels weird and dirty and like digging up an ugly past to talk about all this. I like him. I can hear him brushing his teeth right now. I guess it's on me to figure out how to put all that strange grief to rest and move forward.

You know, coming to accept your own needs as priority can be a process, especially after a time of your needs being ignored. The little moments that feel liberating should be celebrated! Listen to that feeling of relief, I think those good feelings are an indication that you’re on the right track. I hear you that it can feel weird to call it a good thing, but if I might, I have a feeling that the moments of guilt could be a little twinge of remnants from “focusing on Only Him”’s past. Does that make sense?

Yes!! All this felt super good to read, thank you. Part of me feels cold and uncaring embracing that certain "whatever, I don't care" attitude about the tiring endeavor of trying to deal with his feelings for him, but I know it's a good thing for my *self* -- I just have an instinct to shut it down because it's not nice.

Did you read the part of her new book about pleasure mapping?

Yeah! I'm still thinking about it for myself. I've talked about it with my partner and he doesn't really know where he is on the map either. I know the big favorable spaces adjacent to lust are seeking, play, and care. We certainly do a LOT of play -- I think the deepest, most authentic part of our relationship is our ability to be silly together way more than with anyone else, our all-day playfulness, our excellent comedic chemistry. I want to say there is such a thing as too silly where it's not sexy, but really when I try to think of examples that's not necessarily silly, it's just anything that strikes as annoying or belittling or disingenuous. If I'm actually laughing and giggling and having fun, I think that's a phenomenal place to access pleasure. Like, I stayed up really late last night installing a new operating system, and we were REALLY gigglysillyloopy, and I think even though I was super tired (maybe especially because? I seem to receive best when I'm too exhausted to run in circles) that would have been a great place to receive pleasure.

I don't think we connect intellectually as well as we do comedically -- I mean, we're both smart people and we have interesting conversations, but out of really different fields and I think we don't connect as deeply there. So that's not it for me -- at least, with this person -- I do feel like if I were with someone that intuitively "got it" more about the things that matter to me that Seeking space would be a cool place to seek pleasure from, but in this relationship that would end up being frustrating.

I think I need Care but I don't trust it. Warranted or not, I think I have both a very strong secret desire for someone to take care of me and a sense that nobody should do it, that I'm gonna owe them if they do, etc. (I was raised to be very independent and my parents never did a lot of demonstrating care, which may not help the whole "raised a woman" moment.) So I think that could be a great place to access pleasure from someday but I need to get more comfortable with it first. (I actually had a weird epiphany a couple months ago, playing a monotonous card game with friends and having the first positive under-the-influence experience of my life, where all of a sudden I was overcome by tears and said "I think I.... need someone to take care of me... I think I need to go journal for a bit. And then I did that while they got tacos, lol.)

I do also think it could be worth asking you directly: do you feel like he’s changed meaningfully?

Yes. I think the sexual scripts have been changing very very slowly by degree, but a new script where we both routinely feel satisfied with sex and our sex life remains to be seen. I'm open to it. He does really listen to me when I talk about it and that re-opens me up to it. A part of me does feel hopeless (or emptily matter-of-fact) a fair amount of the time that this is just sort of an unfixable incompatibility and this is how it's always going to be. But also, people are always changing and I know I have my own stuff to work through.

Outside of the sex, overwhelmingly yes. He was kind of a not great partner for the first year and I want to know why but I feel like there really is no answer -- stress with COVID/hardest year of college? Lack of experience? Being raised a male only child by really overbearing parents who did everything for him? I can speculate but I won't "find closure" by getting some correct answer there, I guess I need to work through it for myself.

I do believe he is an entirely different person now than he was then, but it's a strange thing to come to believe. (It also weirdly kind of freaks me out because it is so effective AS evidence of the fact people are always changing. Like, what if he changes again over time to become more of an asshole? If it can go one way just due to life and growth and the way of the winds, why not the other? And what if I become really hurtful instead?)

And even if I believe it cerebrally, I think my nervous system is still sometimes working on old assumptions. I was raised in a household that was pretty volatile and unpredictable, so the eggshells felt like home to me. I don't know what to do out here except keep tiptoeing.

Thank you all for bearing with my long-windedness. It's really helpful for me to talk myself through these things in the critical-thinking way I do for an audience of people who really know what they're talking about and are happy to support me, and I'm really grateful for your patience as I talk to myself in circles and for the services you continue to provide for everyone here. <3

I imagine conversations like this one take a lot of energy and focus, and I'm not in any sort of acute distress, so feel free to really take your time to read and respond if you like.

Hey, sandpiper. I have been following along, but not posting until now.

I do have a suggestion for you:

Closure is a thing you gift yourself and I guess I'm going to have to figure out how to do that for myself, since I know I won't get any real answers to why everything was so weird (and in retrospect kind of cringe and terrible) the first year of our relationship. He doesn't know why either, and has apologized over and acknowledged more and more with time he was kind of a jerk back then.

Here and in a few places, I hear you voicing a desire for more conversation with and introspection from your partner around this, which is something I'd also suggest you ask them for. I think if you're still going to be in this kind of relationship together, it makes sense for you (and they!) to need more of that, including some of those answers, which I do think he'd probably be able to give you with some more introspection on his part. That introspection might also be something best aided by talk therapy, either on his own, for himself, or for you both as a couple.

I also feel like you probably need more of those answers to keep building something different. It sounds like you want to stay in this relationship and in it as a sexual and romantic relationship, so for sure, resolving what you can from the past, making some real sense of it, and using what sense you make of it for you to both move forward together all sound like necessary things to me. You also voice that you are worried he'll change "back," and I think it makes sense you're worried about that particularly since it sounds to me like you have done a lot more introspection around this than he has, and because you don't feel like you know from him why he thinks he was the way he was before, or why he is now different.

I do want to at least one more thing here to give you some permission, in case you need it at any point: relationships we really like and value, in whole or in part, aren't things we have to stay in forever if and when they just don't feel right for us anymore, including because we have past hurts in them that just don't seem to go away no matter how we try. In a lifetime, I think it's fair to say that most of us will have relationships that offered us and the other person in them good, valuable things which we, the other person, or both of us chose to move on from or change the nature of because it was just time to do that. So, if it turns out that things do ever go back to how they were before, or you just can't shake the yuck-parts of your history (including because they dovetail with other big yuck in your life, which for sure, can be hard to get our neurological systems to shake!), I want you to know that it would be okay for you to choose not to be with this person as a partner or at all at any time if that is what feels best for you, is what you want or feels like will make it more possible for you to find a partnership that is more of what you want. <3

Thanks so much for this Heather. <3 You've really given me a lot to think about.

Glad to be of help. <3