Talking About Sex is Difficult For Men
We may assume otherwise but…
Talking about sex is difficult for men. In fact, we don’t really talk it about that much. This may feel completely counter to our commonly held societal assumption to the contrary, and I suspect may feel strange or even obviously wrong to many readers, especially women. But I think it’s true — at least in the sense that men often don’t talk about sex in any great depth or detail.
A exchange with fellow medium writer got me thinking about this topic. In one of her recent pieces she discussed sex as a topic of comedy among women. I mentioned in the comments that many men resent the way women talk casually and revealingly about their sex lives and sexual partners with their female friends, insofar as this is done without the consent of their male partners and often seems to disclose details that many would prefer to remain private because of their intimate nature. I may have been missing the central theme of the piece somewhat but this thought just sprang to my mind when reading.
was concerned with bad or exploitative sex for women and the way laughing about such experiences with female friends can be therapeutic. This makes sense. I was more concerned with the way women often do this even with positive sexual experiences or regarding trusted or long-term sexual partners. It’s the latter I think many men take issue with.
For you see men don’t really do the same, and I think this may surprise many women. So much of male talk of sex when in one another’s company is casual and fleeting; it’s superficial or abstract. Men rarely recount sexual encounters in any detail or discuss deeper sexual desires or problems.
And I think this is also often true for the way men discuss sex when around women or in public settings. Or whether they choose to discuss it in general at all — with men or women.
With good reason, we often discuss the shame around female sexuality, historically and in the present. But I think we also ought to recognise that there is also plenty of shame and judgement around male sexuality, albeit in a different way.
Most sexual crimes are committed by men. Thus male sexuality is inherently tarred by this and this is perhaps impossible to escape from. Male sexuality in general is easy to frame as threatening and dangerous. Of course not all men are likely to be concerned by this, but many are acutely aware of it, at least on a deep level that is not always consciously recognised or expressed.
We are often aware that our sexual feelings and desires can be perceived as threatening or disgusting, and basically, we don’t want to be seen as a creep. Or we don’t want to be seen as desperate or sex-starved. The real creeps and predators of the world are clearly unhindered by these considerations, but those men who have some regard for the feelings of others often are.
We’re aware of what that woman’s motives were for not wanting to enter a lift with us when it would just be the two of us, or how our brutally honest comment about our sexual fantasies or desires might land in a room full of women.
Shame enters into it in a different and more complex way as well. Men often experience their sexuality as a powerful and often somewhat irritating and uncomfortable force that needs to be managed and controlled.
I remember a male colleague once remarking that he wished he could just switch off his sex drive sometimes; his life would be a lot easier.
I casually agreed, being fully aware of what he meant. A female friend present seemed a little surprised, ‘Really?’, she said.
Yes, really.
I’m sure many women have wished that they could stop being an object of sexual attention sometimes, certainly of the unwelcome kind. That they want a break. Or that they are tired of feeling pressure to present in a sexually attractive way. This is understandable.
I think many men, whether they always recognise it or not, get tired of their own libidos. The constant longing for more, the way a flash of thigh in a crowded place can put a fire under all kinds of desires, the fear of not performing, the shame felt when watching porn. Men in the comments, tell me if you can relate.
Male sexual stimulation is much more likely to be spontaneous than reactive, and is often completely divorced from any kind of emotional or relational context. It can be distracting, uncomfortable and inconvenient. I really do wish I could turn it off sometimes. I think as a result I would probably feel a level general serenity I’ve only ever touched in my most zen moments.
Sometimes being honest about this, especially to women, can feel like a confession of weakness or a lack of self-control or that we do nothing but ogle attractive women all day. Or again, that we are, well, creeps.
And then there’s the sex act itself: fraught with anxiety and fear for many men on very deep and fundamental level. Are you going to able to get it up and then keep it up? We can never quite control our sexual response in the way we would ideally like, and there’s no hiding this fact. Our genitals are all out there; dangling vulnerable and unhidden. And can we last long enough to satisfy our partners? Or perhaps we can’t finish at all. We are expected to take the lead but can’t be too pushy or assertive. We want to ask for what we want without sounding like a jerk. It can be like walking a tightrope.
And what about penis size?
Sex really is tied up with performance for men, at the most basic physical level and the whole act and our feelings about it are highly shaped by the need for containment and self-control.
It’s difficult to just let go and relax and enjoy the ride when having sex as a man.
Many women seem under the impression that any sex for men is a a kind of precious gift that we would crawl over glass just to get the slightest touch of. That because men generally can orgasm quite easily ( which is actually a huge mixed blessing anyway as I hope I’ve clearly described) that we must always be getting what we want from sex. But I genuinely think a lot of men have sex that they don’t actually enjoy that much, at least not as much as they could be. They are bored or emotionally detached, or they are overthinking and stuck in their heads, worrying about how good they are or whether they are doing the right thing.
How am I doing? Is she really enjoying this?
The idea that men in general don’t care about pleasuring their female partners is one of the biggest myths going.
And saying that the sex was bad or is bad for men is tricky. There is an assumption that it was up to you to make it good or it should have just been good by default.
Women often reinforce this prejudice by assuming that bad sex is almost by definition something that men do but not women, or that sex in general is something women grant men. I’ve observed a strong undercurrent of this even in a lot of current feminist discourse online. And talking about men’s ignorance of female anatomy or fumbling inability to please their female partners is a proud expression of women’s empowerment and women’s newfound ability to talk candidly about sex, and feels entirely socially acceptable. The reverse, however, at least in public spaces, still feels somewhat insensitive or even misogynistic. But plenty of women are ignorant about male sexual pleasure and are inept lovers. We just don’t tend to load all the pressure on women to perform and take the lead in the sexual act.
Women obviously face other pressures, including sexual ones, but there is an imbalance here that I think could be redressed.
Perhaps many men don’t talk about all of the difficulties and complexities of sex because despite all the bravado that goes around, we know deep down that sex for us is in fact a very difficult, fraught and complex topic. Societal assumptions about male sexuality may hold otherwise, but on some level many men know that sex is far from being simple for us.
We may avoid these conversations in the same way we might avoid talking about how we feel about our parents or our childhoods, or all the endless pressure we feel to act and perform and be successful and confident in our lives.
And growing up in highly sexualised culture is a constant pressure for men. The pressure to have sex for boys and young men is enormous. We grow up in a culture that socially rewards us for having it and socially punishes us for not having it. Our worth gets tied to all of this in ways that can be difficult to leave behind. Talking about sex is a vulnerbailtiy in the same way that admitting weakness more generally can be.
Perhaps it’s time we talked a bit more honestly.
