"I'm angry with my body for not wanting sex."
We have to treat our relationship with our body just like any other relationship in our lives. The same rules apply.
G writes:
I’m asexual, and I’ve been with my current partner for about two years. Most of the time I consider myself sex-averse. That comes and goes. Sometimes I’m more comfortable with sexual things, and in this relationship, especially in the first year we were together, I did feel more comfortable with the sexual part. It’s not like we have had sex a lot, but it happened more in this relationship than in others. And my partner has always been very respectful of my boundaries. We have an open relationship, so we are happy with how that part is managed.
The issue is during the last six months or so, I’ve started to feel more sex-repulsed. What I’m feeling is more intense than in any other relationship I’ve had, and while my partner has been really good about it, I’ve been feeling a lot of shame about it. I have these feelings of hating myself and hating my body for behaving this way. I have times when I get really angry at myself, and the downside is this just makes sexual intimacy with anyone even less desirable, because I have all these negative feelings around it. I’m feeling stuck, or like I’m sliding downward, and I’d like to feel something different. Sometimes I think about just going through with something that has previously been fine, even though it makes me get knots in my stomach. What should I do?
Hey G,
This experience of a shifting relationship to sexual activity isn’t uncommon, and it’s not a red flag. I’ll share a little of my own experience here: In the now eight years I’ve been out as asexual, my own relationship to sexual activity has moved across the spectrum and back. While I typically talk about myself as being sex-favorable, that’s more a mean experience than a majority one. I’ve had periods of not wanting to have anything to do with sex. I’ve had periods where I’m absolutely indifferent. I’ve had periods where I was definitely DTF. The only real constant for me has been change, and like you, I had a hard time adjusting to it.
I’ve been in the moment you describe many times, frustrated that my body isn’t following “the rules” of past experience, angry at myself for being unpredictable, and wanting to force myself — more specifically, my body — to get with the program and do it anyway. It’s a lousy place to be. It’s difficult to feel as though you aren’t in sync with your body or, worse, that you’re in some competition with your body. It’s a fight you can’t walk away from. It’s with you inside and outside intimate situations.
Like you, I also thought pushing through might be the right way to go. We did this before, right? We can do it again. Unfortunately, in my experience, the forcing or pushing through never really worked. I’d never enjoy those experiences. I’d typically focus on just how much I wished I hadn’t done it, wanting it to be over, detaching from the experience. It happened so often, it earned a name: “going to Epcot.” Not only were these sexual experiences bad for me, they were bad for my partner. And I’d end up feeling more negatively about sex in general, which only made “going to Epcot” a more likely possibility.
What made Epcot trips more infrequent? Listening to my body. And not just listening to my body, but respecting what it was saying. I had to treat my body as a relationship partner, and utilize the same set of skills I’d use with anyone else.
We have to treat our relationship with our body just like any other relationship in our lives. The same rules apply. To be in a good relationship partners means active, empathetic listening. It means hearing where boundaries are and respecting those boundaries. It means honesty and respect. It means recognizing what makes your partner who and what they are, and honoring that. It’s what we expect from our partners. So why, when it’s our own body, would we approach it any differently? If your body says, “No,” treat it with the same respect you would your partner or your friend.
You wouldn’t force your boyfriend or girlfriend to get intimate. Why would you do that to your own body?
You owe it to yourself to listen to your body and honor what it wants, even if what it wants subverts the expectations of your partner, societal expectations, or even the expectations you place on it yourself. You shouldn’t stand in judgement of what your body says feels good. You shouldn’t stand in judgement of what it says doesn’t. Pushing against your body is a fight you won’t win. You can’t force pleasure. You can’t force performance. Your best bet, always, is to let your body take the lead.
But what about trying new things? What about exploration? They’re not off the table, but they have to come from a willingness in us, a spirit of play and discovery. That spirit is a form of the body saying “yes.” It’s perfectly acceptable, in the context of a partner you trust and who shows you respect, to take a step into an intimate unknown — as long as the decision to go there comes from you. Coerced exploration isn’t true exploration. Guilting you into trying something new isn’t safe or supportive intimacy. Even if you’re nervous or if you don’t like it and you take it off the table moving forward, if you are the one steering the ship, you’re listening to your body.
You can only show up in your relationships as who you are. We create a lot of unhappiness for ourselves when we try to fit ourselves into boxes other people create for us (and sometimes, the boxes we design for ourselves). You shouldn’t measure yourself against what other people do or what other people expect. You shouldn’t even measure yourself against past versions of you. You can only be what you can be right now. So be it.
You and your body will thank you.
This isn't a case of pretending to love the m&m and jelly sandwich a preschooler made for you or that 1st pie with _far_ too much nutmeg your mom made during her recovery from her stroke. Sex is a lot more personal.
Thank you so much for this. Really helpful words.