How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Stoya and Rich here. It’s anonymous!
Dear How to Do It,
I know this is probably a good problem to have but I’m not sure how to delicately approach this. I have recently started dating a new girl and things have been going great for the last few months. Except I feel very awkward about vocalizing during sex and equally awkward when she talks during sex. She loves dirty talk and will make plenty of noise when we hook up—I just never got comfortable doing that myself. She hasn’t asked me to be more vocal but every time I become acutely aware of how silent I’m being and it gets me in my head about it. I feel so uncomfortable when she starts talking to me during sex and I don’t really know why! It feels sort of cringe. Can I get past this? And also why in the world am I having such an involuntary reaction to this? Shouldn’t dirty talk be a good thing?
—I Have No Words
Dear I Have No Words,
Not necessarily. There is no absolute standard here that dictates we all must enjoy dirty talk. Some do. Some love speaking it, some love hearing it. Not all will. Sex is a way of communicating without the necessity of words, so it makes sense to find them superfluous or even distracting during the act. This comes down to personal preference, it’s not a matter of good and bad, right and wrong. You’re doing what a lot of people do when they discover they’re not into what many people enjoy: You’re blaming yourself and you’re assuming there’s something wrong with you. There isn’t. Taste varies in all aspects of sex across the population. You are better off embracing your likes and dislikes than beating yourself up over perceived shortcomings. In this particular case, the issue is self-perception. Notice that your partner has not said anything about your verbal performance during sex—so far this is in your head.
You must decide how to go forward. It is generous to match your partner and provide what you think they are after, though again, that hasn’t been stated. Still, you should ask yourself what kind of talk might you be willing to provide? Would you be comfortable engaging in commentary (for example, pointing out what feels good and asking if a particular position/stroke feels good to your partner)? Could you fantasize out loud? Maybe none of this feels right (your letter suggests as much). Maybe instead of pushing yourself into territory that feels wrong for you, you ask her to tone it down in kind and gentle terms (“I am glad you’re so excited about the sex we have, but I find that too much talking is distracting…”). Maybe you meet somewhere in the middle. At minimum, this is worth a conversation. I hope I’ve empowered you enough that you can go into it knowing that you are not the problem nor are your interests wrong. This is something to figure out as a couple. Her reaction may tell you a lot about what she thinks of you and the relationship. Good luck.
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Dear How to Do It,
I met my wife in 2010 at a house party my senior year of college and she was a few years behind. From the second we locked eyes there was something electric. After I graduated I moved to Houston and I’d go visit her or fly her out to visit me at least once a month if not more. She graduated a few years later and moved in with me. Things were pretty great. Our chemistry was always the standout feature of our relationship. We got married in 2016.
After we got married, there was a slow decline of drifting apart and then a sharp drop off in intimacy. She went on antidepressants and her libido seemingly disappeared. I’m not sure if it was me, the drugs, or both but it caused a lot of tension and a vicious spiral that basically turned into resentment on both sides.
I always imagined we’d have a family and grow old together but we were always on birth control and it never happened. Then we grew apart and are now getting divorced. Young love is one of those things that sticks with you, though, and I think about how fully enmeshed we were. Now, every girl I’ve met feels hollow compared to my wife, who I still view as my soul mate. Even though I realize that we were great lovers but poor partners, I’m a tiny bit bitter that she wasn’t willing to fight for us. If there was ever any woman I trusted to fight for something it was her.
Future relationships feel almost not worth the effort. I know I’m going to have to be a lot more focused on boundaries and expectations, but that feels almost contractual compared to having the younger naiveté to leap into the unknown.
On the other hand, I’ve been the horniest I’ve ever been and really enjoy flirting, which I haven’t done in 15 years. I’m feeling myself again. It’s a bit conflicting, and I ask myself why wouldn’t the girl I want the most flirt back like she once did? I may have lost my game, but I never stopped pursuing her. Where do I go from here?
—Trying to Figure It Out
Dear Trying to Figure It Out,
Your wife’s regard for you is entirely out of your control. It is so sad when relationships end, but you’re way better off not in a relationship with someone who doesn’t feel the same than you are in an unhappy marriage. Your soon-to-be-ex-wife didn’t fight for the relationship and I can tell that’s devastating, but your letter implies that you did. If that’s true, you can go to rest knowing that you did what you could. Natural disasters arise and all we can do is prepare ourselves and then pick up the pieces. That’s where you are right now.
You are still grieving. Do not expect that to end anytime soon. Since my own nearly 10-year relationship ended last year, I’ve been thinking a lot about the last line of Prince’s “Sometimes It Snows in April”: “And love, it isn’t love until it’s passed.” There is something about hindsight that can show you just how much the now-ended relationship meant. My advice is to savor this. Honor it. It is part of what made you who you are today. It is not something that you can get back or replicate. Next time will be different because you are no longer that senior at a house party and your next partner won’t be your ex. It’s a good time to think about what you learned from your marriage—maybe there are things you now know to do differently, mistakes to avoid, stuff that you didn’t do but now believe you should have.
Do not rush into another relationship. Let yourself understand what being alone is like. Have non-serious flings (it’s better to state upfront that you aren’t actually looking for a relationship at the moment so that no one gets confused). Enjoy sex. Be adventurous. Strike a balance between honoring your last relationship and expanding your life now that you are free from it. Do not run away from your feelings. Soak in the sadness, for it is part of life and experiencing it makes for fullness. Men are socialized to be less than forthcoming with their feelings, and so you may feel blocked as you process your grief. A therapist could be very useful right now, so I encourage you to seek help if you feel that you need it.
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Dear How to Do It,
My partner and I have been in a relationship for three years now. We have a decent sex life considering I started early perimenopause and just got on hormones a few months ago and also suffer from endometriosis. He’s been patient and kind with my struggles on these fronts. An issue I have is that I know he feels less attracted to someone he’s been with a long time. It doesn’t really help that perimenopausal weight gain means I’m now a decent amount of poundage above his ideal body type. That said, he stays committed and regularly reminds me what he loves about me.
Prior to him getting on antidepressants later in the relationship, he started needing to cause consensual sexual harm (choking, light slapping, whipping) to get and stay hard. I wonder if you have any suggestions for overcoming or at least temporarily defeating a tendency to lose excitement in the sexual aspect of a long-term relationship for a partner. He does still have a sex drive for us. For me, sex is often an affirmation of existing emotional and physical bonds and only about a fourth of the time because I’m just in the mood, but I’d like to rekindle some of the original excitement for it that we had early on for him.
Thanks to my early old age struggles, I’ve ended up declining sex often enough that he now prefers to not initiate unless I express clear forward interest, but out of the blue I don’t typically feel instant sexual attraction these days. I do not mind a routine and comfortable sex life personally, but I know he’s not quite in agreement. I just feel like he’d have more fun if the flame of before could be lit again every so often. When that happens, he is also more likely to initiate in ways that do inspire enthusiastic response.
I’ve only ever been in a few long-term relationships, and prior to him I only dated people I had been friends with first. Long-term commitment isn’t a sexual dampener for me the way it seems to be for him. I’d genuinely like to find a way to make him feel more excited again. I tend to be a reserved, calm, extremely rational/logical person, so even my “spontaneity” tends to end up as a pre-planned action. I have been called boring by others as a result in other areas, which doesn’t help confidence here. I really could use advice figuring out how to reinvigorate him, and really maybe us both.
—Overly Comfortable With Regularity
Dear Overly Comfortable With Regularity,
Novelty may be the solution to your issue. The question is: What kind are you down to try and how much of it? There is a lot you can play around with: toys, different positions, threesomes and groups (or non-monogamy more generally), roleplay, tantra, etc. My suspicion is that your husband’s “needing to cause consensual sexual harm” for his erections has a lot to do with this play being new to your dynamic. It’s time to check in with yourself and him as to what else you might be interested in.
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You should both familiarize yourselves with the varying ways that sexual desire can present. In Come as You Are, Emily Nagoski writes about spontaneous and responsive desire. The latter, in which it takes a stimulus (like an interested/aroused partner) to ignite arousal, may describe your experience (“Out of the blue I don’t typically feel instant sexual attraction these days,” is strong evidence for this). The whys are unclear (as they are for a lot of elements of sexuality) but this just seems to be how some people are wired. Knowing this can help disabuse you of the ideal of absolute parity here. Some people just need their partners to kick things off, and then things can go well. If one partner is more responsive, it doesn’t mean they aren’t into sex with him or her, and thus their refraining from initiating shouldn’t be taken personal or as a sign of apathy.
Speaking of books, you can also familiarize yourself with Esther Perel’s principle of creating distance in long-term relationships to emphasize eroticism via her Mating in Captivity. There are a lot of good ideas in there to help make sex exciting, like taking it out of your bedroom and getting a hotel room every so often to see if a new context helps charge things up.
Sex should be fun, and I understand that at the moment it feels like work, and that fixing it may feel like another assignment. Help is available. If the suggestions in this column aren’t working, seem too difficult, or otherwise don’t interest you, consider counseling or a sex coach.
—Rich
More Advice From Slate
I’m in an otherwise happy three-year, gay open marriage where we informally have evolved to operate under a couples’ version of “don’t ask, don’t tell.” But I recently met one of my husband’s gay fuck buddies at a public party. Something felt weird between them, so I let anxiety get the best of me and I checked his phone. Turns out they’re way closer and more intimate than I thought. I’m jealous and hurt—we agreed that sex is OK, but romantic feelings for someone else is not. What should I do?
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