Tongue Tied

THIS BOOK WILL ASK A LOT OF QUESTIONS THAT you might think are silly—because you think the answer is obvious. But one of the main things I’m trying to unpack with this book is that what we think is obvious often isn’t clear to others at all.

One of those questions is, why do you want to have sex? Pause and think about that a little. Think about why you desire sex in general and brainstorm your answers.

This list is far from exhaustive. A study reported in the Archives of Sexual Behavior identified 237 reasons people might have sex.³ But for the sake of this exercise, it’s enough to get you thinking and realizing there are more motivations than you might have consciously considered.

Now that you’ve thought more broadly about reasons for having sex in general, think about specific instances. Maybe you had sex to reconnect with a partner after one of you was away or had makeup sex after a fight. In these instances, it’s often the intimacy and connection we’re seeking.

Why are we doing this work? Because when you know what underlying need you’re trying to meet, you can figure out if there are other ways to address that need. For example, if what you want is an orgasm to relax before bed and your partner doesn’t feel like having sex, then maybe you can meet that need with masturbation. Maybe your partner joins in by watching porn with you, or snuggling with you, or maybe you’re in separate rooms.

If what you’re looking for is connection after being away, what are other things you could do to feel connected? Maybe snuggling and talking about your trip? Or watching a movie while cuddling on the couch?

It can also be really useful to have this conversation with your partner. Even when you’re both game for sex, you can still have different needs in mind. One person focusing on connection while the other is focusing on orgasm is still a potential mismatch. The only way to make sure everyone is getting their needs met is to be explicit about what they are.

This is what we’re striving for in our sexual communication. Not just clarity in what we’re saying, but clarity of intentions. Language is an imperfect medium, and no matter how hard we try there are going to be occasional miscommunications. But we can try to weed out as many places as possible where we’re unclear.

A few years ago, I was hired to work a New Year’s Eve party for a sex-positive organization. The party was being held in a three-story building, and each story had a different theme and a different level of sex play. I was working the dungeon level in the basement. My job was to teach and demonstrate a variety of kink toys and forms of play, as well as to supervise the people playing.

In order to do my job well, I needed to understand the party rules. I asked the host what was and wasn’t allowed on this floor. They told me that nudity, along with kink and sexy play, was allowed, but no sex. I continued looking at them, expecting additional information, but it became clear they were done. So I asked, “What do you mean by sex?” They seemed confused by the question, and eventually answered, “Penetration.”

Not wanting to be difficult, but also knowing I couldn’t enforce rules if I didn’t understand them, I had to continue asking questions. “What about penetration with fingers or toys?” The host stared at me blankly. They hadn’t thought about this. Ultimately the organizers had to run off to have a meeting to define their terms before coming back to me with more clarity about what was and wasn’t allowed. Well, if people running sex parties don’t have a working definition of sex, it’s no surprise that the average person dating or having relationships runs into trouble.

First you need to have an idea of what options are available, and what your own definition is. Then you can work on communicating that to others. When you’re about to have sex with someone new, it’s important to define what you mean by “sex” and what the scope of activities is going to be. This prevents all kinds of misunderstandings—from the uncomfortable to the dangerous.

Even in long-term relationships, it can still be important to check in about your definitions now and then. This can be an item for your state-of-the-relationship talk (more on that later). “Having sex” can become shorthand for a particular routine you’ve gotten used to. And if one or both people are tired of this routine, they might start saying no to sex. But it’s very possible that a reworking of what sex means, and what it looks like, can make for more frequent, and better, sex.

When I was married, my spouse and I weren’t always sexually compatible. And I didn’t have the tools then that I do now to work on it. But this was one trick I did figure out from that situation. When he would ask for sex, I’d learned what he meant: he wanted to penetrate me until he had an orgasm. Typically he’d fall asleep after. There wasn’t much in it for me, aside from some nominal connection.

So one day I told him the reason I often turned down sex was because I wasn’t keen on what he meant by that. He was open to feedback, so I suggested he instead ask if he could give me an orgasm, or even a massage. I was far more likely to say yes to intimate contact if I knew I was going to get pleasure out of it. And nine times out of ten, once he’d done something like that for me, I was perfectly happy to reciprocate.

But if I’d never made the connection that there was as much a communication problem as a sexual problem, I might not have found a solution so easily. And our relationship would likely have deteriorated much more quickly. Although I can’t promise that all sexual issues will be resolved so smoothly, getting on the same page about language is a huge step in the right direction.

It’s no surprise we have a difficult time defining sex. Or at least a limited definition. The mainstream view of sex is pretty narrow. It tends to focus on penetration, generally by a penis into a vagina. This narrow view leaves a lot of people out in the cold. Not only is it a very cisgendered, heterosexual notion of sex, but it ignores people with different tastes or preferences, or people whose bodies work in different ways.

When we ask for sex, or when our partner thinks we want sex, there can be an assumption that this narrow definition of sex is what’s meant. Regardless of what genders or genitals are involved, many couples have a standard routine. And whatever your go-to sex looks like, that’s what our partners are going to assume we mean. This can lead to a no when there might actually be room to find something that will make both people happy. So the wider a definition of sex and intimacy you have, the more likely you are to find activities two (or more) people can agree on.

What if genital touch wasn’t required for intimacy, or even sex? What if your definition expanded to include bathing together, massaging each other, or even slowly cooking and savoring a meal together? You can get as creative as you like, from partnered yoga to rope bondage—there are lots of ways to engage with another person’s body that can be done without genital touch, and even with clothes on.

Not only is our view of sex narrow, it tends to be goal oriented, with the usual goal being (mutual) orgasm. So what happens if one, or both, people don’t easily reach orgasm? Does that mean sex and intimacy are off the table whenever their bodies aren’t behaving exactly the way they’d like?

Tying into the problem of not believing each other about pleasure, if the body isn’t demonstrating what we’ve come to expect as visible signs of arousal and enjoyment (like erections and lubrication) we doubt that our partner is enjoying themselves.

So if we know our body won’t do what our partner is expecting, and we know we won’t reach orgasm, it can be difficult to engage in activities that might still bring pleasure. Many people don’t realize that massaging a vulva, or an anus, or touching a flaccid penis, can all still feel very good, even if there isn’t an orgasm.

We also need to understand that using sex toys doesn’t indicate some kind of failing, or cop-out, but instead is as basic as any tool we’d use for a job. When was the last time you heard someone being ashamed or embarrassed about using a hammer instead of pounding a nail with their bare hand?

Start thinking of intimacy, and even sex, as any activity you can do alone, or with a partner, that allows you to feel pleasure. And if you’re not willing to go quite that far with me, how about this: Instead of thinking of sex that doesn’t tick all the boxes you’d hoped as a failure, how about thinking of it as successful intimacy instead?

Maybe for you a massage, or any of the other suggestions I’ve made, just doesn’t resonate with you as sex. That’s fine. Instead, you can go into activities with a range of possible outcomes in mind. Perhaps you’d like to have penetrative sex, but if that can’t happen, or it doesn’t go exactly the way you’d hoped, you can still have a powerful experience of intimacy with your partner.

One of the most common sources of miscommunication is a lack of specificity. We speak in vague terms so often, we don’t always realize we’re doing it. Imagine you’re making a date and you ask if the other person wants to meet later that night. “Later” for one person could mean seven P.M. while for the other it means ten P.M. The two people could think they’ve come to an understanding, but when seven o’clock comes and goes, there could be anything from confusion to hurt feelings.

This can be even more dangerous when you’re talking about sex or kink. The riskier the behavior (physically or emotionally), the more sure you want to be that you define your terms. If for one person spanking means gentle love taps during sex, and to the other it means hard swats with a paddle or belt, that’s a discrepancy that can cause a lot of problems.

So what do you do about it? Well, if someone asks you if you’re interested in trying something, ask for more information before you give an answer. Asking things like, “What does that mean to you?” can be a great way to clarify. You could also let them know what you think it means, and give them a chance to correct you, or fill in any missed details.

It’s no wonder we run into problems when specificity matters, because the way we use our language colloquially, we often say the opposite of what we mean, in an attempt at humor, sarcasm, or emphasis. We say, “I’m a bit peckish” when we haven’t eaten all day. We say “literally” when we mean figuratively. We say something was freezing, or on fire, when it was just a bit warm or cold for comfort. It’s so ingrained in the way we speak, you might not even notice you’re doing it.

So what happens if you keep that habit when talking about a delicate subject with a partner? Well, if you use your typical exaggeration and say, “I hate that thing you do,” when really it just bothers you a little bit, you’ve probably just hurt your partner’s feelings when you could easily have been more clear, or more specific, about what you mean.

If you’re the one proposing something, head off confusion and misunderstanding by painting as clear a picture as you can, right from the get-go. Rather than saying, “Would you like to try some kinky stuff?” ask, “How would you feel about bending over my lap to get spanked with my hairbrush?”

“Kinky stuff” could mean just about anything, and if you leave the question at that, the other person’s mind could be reeling with possibilities, several of which they may not be interested in. Get used to being specific with your requests, because then you can both be on the same page for negotiation. Rather than spending twenty minutes defining what “kinky stuff” means, you can spend that negotiating time discussing which hairbrush to use and how hard to hit with it.

The cousin to specificity is clarity. If you want to ask someone out on a date, say so. Sure, “Let’s get coffee sometime” might be easier to force out of your mouth, but that leaves the other person wondering what you mean. Is it a friends thing? Professional networking? Something romantic? You don’t want to get a yes only to find out at the end that they were there to get introduced to your marketing buddies.

Clarity is also very important when discussing sex acts. And I’ve had a couple interesting run-ins when it comes to getting clarity, or assuming something was clear when it wasn’t.

On a date with someone, we were discussing our sexual histories and interests. They told me they’d tried anal sex a few times but weren’t really into it. My immediate reaction was to ask a clarifying question—did they mean giving or receiving anal sex? They were so shocked by my question I thought for a moment they might choke on their dinner. It had never even occurred to them that that statement could mean receiving, whereas I figured it was fifty-fifty what they meant.

Butt stuff is often an area where we lack clarity of communication (even when we think we’re doing a great job!). I had another date where we had negotiated hand sex and I was playing with the other person’s body. I asked if I could touch their anal area and they said yes. I performed external massage for a while and then asked how they felt about penetration. They said that was fine. So I pulled my hand away to get more lube. As soon as they saw me lubing up my finger they realized what I meant and said, “Oh! You mean me!” I’d thought that asking while touching their anus made my intentions clear, but it hadn’t. Even in that context, I’d needed to ask, “How would you feel about receiving anal penetration right now?”

Maybe you think that sounds awkward or clunky. But it’s a lot less awkward than penetrating someone who wasn’t expecting it—and maybe didn’t want it. In fact, that lack of clarity can quickly become a consent violation. So being clear what we’re asking for, and agreeing to, is essential.

When I was speaking at Portland State University, they introduced me to a clever way they handle this issue. As I was speaking at the front of the room, someone stood at the back and held up a sign that said DEFINE YOUR TERMS whenever I used a sex or kink word that was obvious to me but not obvious to everyone.

This was a fantastic reminder to slow down and make sure my own assumptions weren’t getting in the way of my audience having a clear understanding of what I was talking about. And while I wouldn’t necessarily suggest you have a sign made up, it can help to ask your partners to define their terms—and to look out for defining your own.

Clarity applies to feelings, too. We need to make sure we’re being clear with what we’re trying to express. Think of the statement “I haven’t been having much sex lately.” That could mean the person simply hasn’t had the time or opportunity, or it could mean they haven’t been interested. If their intention was to tell a partner that they’re not feeling very sexy and likely won’t want sex that night, this could backfire. Because that statement could just as easily be read as a bid for sex.

Just because a statement is clear to us, it doesn’t mean a partner will get our meaning. If you’re trying to express something important, it’s a good idea to check whether your partner understands you.

Most people undercommunicate, so if you aim for what feels like too much communication, you’re probably getting closer to what’s needed.

As you begin to explore the wide world of sex and intimacy, you’re bound to hit on things that make you uncomfortable, from feelings of jealousy to things that challenge your understanding of relationship models. The more you explore, the more likely you are to discover things you aren’t into, or that push your buttons. And that’s great! Finding out what you don’t like, or what challenges you, can be just as useful as figuring out what you do enjoy.

If there’s something you’re simply not turned on by, that’s fine. But if something felt threatening or challenging in some way, it can be helpful to figure out why you’re reacting that way.

When enough time has passed to explore your feelings, do some self-reflection. Maybe this is by journaling or talking to a friend—whatever works for you when you’re trying to process. See if you can figure out what caused the difficult feelings.

Sometimes the very process of talking or writing will help you figure out where the feelings are coming from, and sometimes you can dig deeper by asking yourself some questions. For example if you’re feeling jealous, dig a little deeper. Jealousy is actually a category of feelings that could include anything from not wanting your partner to be engaging in that activity at all to feeling left out because they’re not doing it with you to feeling insecure because you think another person might be better at something than you are.

Have you seen the Ze Frank video about yucking people’s yum? If not, it’s well worth a Google search. It’s also a vital concept as we talk about exploring our fantasies and desires.

When someone opens up about their sexual interests, they’re making themselves vulnerable to you. And it’s your responsibility to listen to them in a way that does no harm. You don’t have to be into what they’re into. You don’t need to do the thing with them. But you do need to avoid shaming them, or embarrassing them, about their desires.

This isn’t just about partners. If you’re going to explore any kind of public sex or kink play, it’s vital that you’re ready to see things you’re not into—maybe even things that shock or upset you. But the people who are participating in the activity are not the people to process those feelings with—and certainly not while they’re playing.

Voices carry in play spaces, and if you’re talking about someone and making judgments about their body or their play, they might hear you. Not only that, but the person you’re talking to, or other people around you, might be into the same thing and feel shamed.

Because here’s the thing—just because you don’t like something, it doesn’t mean that thing is bad or gross. Surely at some point you’ve had this debate about favorite foods, or pineapple on pizza. The pro and con camps are vociferous and insistent, and it’s an absurd argument. How can a flavor of food be objectively right or wrong, good or bad? We all get to choose our favorite candy at the movie theater (or sneak in a chopped apple—whatever floats your boat), but nobody is better or worse for those preferences.

And the same goes for sex and kink. You’re going to see things that are somebody’s pineapple on pizza, and whether you’re into it or not, you just have to let them do their thing. And if you’re not into it, you can simply move away from the activity you’re having trouble with and go watch something else. Rather than shaming them, it’s far more useful to examine why that activity feels challenging for you and to do some more research on the topic if you’d like to explore those feelings.

One of the most frequent homework assignments I give clients is to start keeping a journal. This can be a fabulous tool for tracking how you’re feeling over time, or to track your growth or self-exploration. Journaling can also be a great first pass at processing whatever you’re feeling about your relationship(s) or your sex life, and if something comes up more than once, that can be an indication that it’s time to talk to your partner about it.

Your journal can be as simple or as elaborate as you’d like. It can be notes on your computer or your phone, or a physical notebook you use for the purpose. You can color code or add sticky tabs, or you can simply write freehand. Use whatever tools and writing style feels the most comfortable.

Journal after dates, to work through your feelings about the person. Were there red flags? Were there things you were excited about? Questions you want to ask next time?

Journal after sex, or kink play, to keep track of what worked for you and what didn’t. Keep track of your favorite parts so you can ask for them again, and the things you weren’t crazy about so you can modify them in the future.

Journal when difficult feelings come up. When you’re feeling anxious, or jealous, or insecure. See if you can track what happened to trigger these feelings. Can you find a pattern over time?

Part of why journaling is not just useful, but important, is because it’s our job to know ourselves. We need to know what we want so we can express those desires to a partner. (And if this is a sticking point for you, don’t worry—there are exercises for you coming up.)

It’s also helpful for noticing patterns of feelings—like maybe every time your partner is late getting home from work you’re mad at them and avoid talking to them for the evening. Without writing it down, maybe you wouldn’t notice the trigger of them being late setting off your feelings. Once you know what the problem is, you can address it, maybe by asking them to give you a more realistic idea of when they’ll be home, or to call when they’re on their way. Whatever the solution, you need to know the problem before you can get there.

The act of writing things down can also help you get to the bottom of your feelings. Maybe you’re feeling something you interpret as jealousy, but when you spend some time thinking, and writing, about what you’re experiencing, you realize that you’re actually just missing your partner when they’re away.

Our feelings can be elusive sometimes, and we need to narrow down what we’re experiencing before we can talk about it in a productive way.

Studies have shown that a shockingly high percentage of self-talk is negative. This can be our internal voice, what we say to ourselves when we look in a mirror or pass by our reflection, and it can also be what we’re saying out loud about ourselves to our partner(s) or friends.

I first learned about this in college, when I was working toward my sociology degree, but learning it in the classroom was nothing compared to seeing this happen in real life. One summer I got a job at a clothing store at the mall near my college to help me pay for summer term. I hadn’t expected working in the mall to be fun, but the job ended up being grueling in ways I’d never anticipated.

Women would come into the store to try things on, and they’d often want my help in the fitting room. I’d be asked to do everything from help with zippers to get other sizes to simply offer my opinion on the outfits. As I was doing this work a pattern quickly emerged: nearly every woman I joined in the dressing room would say something negative about her body as she looked in the mirror. Sometimes they were saying it to me, but mostly I think they were saying it to themselves, just ignoring the fact that I was there. Service workers often pass as invisible.

Lots of people complained about their weight, but many folks had specific complaints, too. People worried about their arms, their thighs, their necks . . . no body part was safe from criticism. Many of these women called me into the dressing room when they were nearly naked, not seeming bothered about me seeing them undressed, but then laying into themselves with negativity.

I must have been nineteen at the time, and I certainly didn’t have the tools and awareness I have now. In fact, had I been the customer, I might have been right there with them, wishing I could lose a few pounds in the hope it would make me look better in the fashions of the day.

I did what I could to uplift and reassure them, but I’m not sure it did much good. I’m not sure anyone was really listening to me, or that they were ready to hear it anyway. The emotional labor of that piece of the job was more exhausting than the eight hours on my feet or the mundanity of spending days in the mall. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough when my three months were up.

But that experience has stayed with me. It brought home what my professors were saying about negative self-talk in a way I never would have believed simply from lectures and textbooks. And when I talk to clients and students about it now, they usually recognize this trend in themselves, too.

And it isn’t limited by gender. Most of the shoppers we got in that store were ciswomen, but I know from other spaces, and what people have told me, that no gender is immune to this kind of body negativity. Far too many people are striving for something that seems just out of reach, or waiting for some change in their physical appearance before they’ll do that thing they’re excited about.

But you know what? Those physical changes won’t make you feel any better if you don’t also address the habit of beating yourself up. The five pounds you wanted to lose will become ten. Or the focus on your arms will shift to your thighs. There’s always some goal you can put between where you are now and the things you’re afraid of trying.

I know this from my own experience, too. When my marriage opened up and I joined the local kink scene, I was amazed to see people gleefully undressing to experience various sensations against their skin, from spanking to flogging to whipping.

I’d just spent a decade working in an office, and pencil skirts, supported by Spanx, were my uniform. I’d finally found a personal style I felt good in, and I liked the classic secretary look and hearing my heels clicking on the floor as I walked. Then I entered these spaces and realized how absurd it would be to have so many layers to peel off. Not to mention how unflattering it was to wiggle in and out of Spanx, or the marks they’d leave on my body.

But as I looked around I saw that not everyone looked like a supermodel. These were real people, of a range of ages, genders, and body types, all enjoying how their bodies could feel, no matter how they looked.

The next party I went to I simply wore a slip that I could drop in a matter of seconds, and this time I tried all kinds of things I’d been curious about for years. And when I was up on the cross feeling a range of sensations I’d only imagined, I didn’t spare a single thought for how my body looked—I just reveled in the things it was able to feel. Believe me, I know it’s easier said than done, but the more you can focus on what your body can do and feel, the more it will take you out of worrying about how it looks.

My background also includes years of theater, both onstage and backstage. I’ve had to audition more times than I can count, and the best advice I ever received was not to make any excuses or disclaimers. So many performers would get onstage and say, “Sorry, I have a cold, my voice is scratchy,” before launching into their song. Most of the time, they sounded great. And if they hadn’t made an excuse, you’d never have known something was wrong. But once they said something like that, you’d be looking out for it. You’d be listening for the edge of a scratch in their voice. And you wouldn’t be focusing on what an amazing performer they were.

My weak point was always dance. I’m hopelessly uncoordinated and also slightly dyslexic, so memorizing choreography was a waking nightmare. But many of the auditions required song, dance, and monologue. So I had to muddle through.

Again, the advice I received was not to apologize, but just to sell the hell out of it. So I’d get up there and I’d plaster a huge smile on my face, make eye contact with the judges, and wait for my music cue. As I danced I’d know I was messing up the steps. Missing things entirely, failing to land jumps—just about any way a dance could go wrong, I’d find. But I’d keep that smile on my face the whole time, and I’d make smiling eye contact with the judges every time I faced forward, and I’d smile and bow when it was over.

I never landed a dance-heavy part (thank goodness), but I got cast in plenty of roles that spoke to my strengths. At one audition one of the directors even commented on my system, saying, “Pretty sure you missed every step in that dance, but you looked so happy doing it, I didn’t care.” And that’s what it all comes down to: confidence. Or at least selling the image of confidence when you aren’t quite feeling it yet.

A couple things happen when you act confident, even when you don’t one hundred percent feel it—you convince your audience, and you begin to convince yourself.

Just like the constant negative self-talk takes its toll on us, because we believe it, the performance of confidence also begins to sink in, and we start to believe it. Studies have been done to show that looking in the mirror and giving yourself positive affirmations helps your self-esteem, even if you feel silly while you’re doing it. The same is true for adjusting your posture to something more confident. They’ve shown that if you hold a superhero pose—hands on your hips, chest out—for a couple minutes before going to speak onstage, you’ll have more confidence and more stage presence.

The first step to addressing negative self-talk is to notice that it’s happening. It’s kind of like noticing yourself breathing or blinking (you’re doing it now, aren’t you?). Once you’ve noticed it, it’s hard to stop. So now I bet you’ll catch yourself the next time you have a negative thought about yourself. And that’s great! Once you’ve noticed that it’s happening, you can interrupt the thought.

The next step is to acknowledge that the feeling is real and valid, but not objective reality. Your fears are normal, but they won’t necessarily come to pass, and the way you see yourself likely isn’t the way others see you. Take as long as you need at this step to get in the habit of catching and interrupting these thoughts when they happen.

Then, when you’re ready, start replacing the negative thoughts with positive ones. This is the trickiest part, but there’s good news—even if you feel silly, or don’t entirely believe the new positive statements, they’re still effective.

All too often we’re afraid to undress in front of a partner because we don’t like how we look. Or we’re deciding what sex acts to do based on how flattering we think they’ll be for us. But all of this is taking us out of our bodies and into our heads, and making it so we don’t enjoy sex as much, if at all.

And you know what? I can just about guarantee that your partner hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care about that thing that’s got you feeling self-conscious. We’re always our harshest critics, and affection creates its own rose-colored glasses through which we view our partners. In fact, your partner might even love that thing that you hate about your body.

Don’t make any excuses or disclaimers. This starts with dating profiles and profile pictures. Whatever you’re presenting, present it with confidence.

Find things to wear that make you feel sexy, and then just go with it. Once you’ve made the decision of what to wear, don’t second-guess it.

If you need reassurances that your partner likes the way you look, it’s okay to ask for them—just couch them in positive terms, and no trick questions!

Remember that if you’re being critical about your body, or about other people’s bodies (strangers, celebrities), you’ll likely make your partner worry what you think of their body.

Perform confidence, even when feeling it is a work in progress. Confidence rates as one of the sexiest traits, so just sell whatever you’re doing with a big smile.

Start having the kind of sex you want right now. Don’t wait for anything to change. I sit in my office hearing from clients who regret how long they waited to do the things they want; I never hear from people who regret trying something before they lost a few pounds. And if you’re not there yet, that’s okay, too. Everyone deserves love and hot sex, no matter where they’re at with self-love and body confidence.

I don’t believe sex can be a failure. And I don’t believe in setting ourselves up with goals that can make us feel we’ve failed. This can be tricky, because some sex acts might seem like they’re all or nothing. Like either you’ve done the thing, or you haven’t.

I’ve been there, too. The first time I asked someone to fist me, I was determined to get them wrist-deep, and I probably would have felt like I failed if I didn’t make it. Even though that act seems like a special case, with subsequent partners I’ve made it clear that even if they’re trying to fist me, I want it to be about the whole experience, and I want them ready to pivot to another activity if that one isn’t working for me.

Having a backup plan is one of the best ways to avoid feeling like you’ve failed. Having a plan B, C, and even D means that you can try several new things and keep moving on to something else if they don’t work for you.

This can become especially important in long-term relationships, when it’s easy to feel a lot of pressure on how your sex life is going. If you’re not connecting in a sexual way very often, it can feel even scarier to try something and not have it go as planned. Having a broader definition of sex and intimacy also helps with this. Because then if nothing else, you haven’t had failed sex, you’ve had successful intimacy.

Some people define sex in a way that sets them up for failure (or pressures a partner into faking responses). If you’re basing your idea of sex on what movies have shown you, you might think that mind-blowing simultaneous orgasms are the only way that good sex can go.

But not everyone is always going to have an orgasm, simultaneous or otherwise. And feeling pressure to have one can make them even less likely. Not only that, but putting too much emphasis on orgasms can make people less willing to have sex when they think they might not be able to climax. And then they, and their partner, are missing out on all the other yummy intimacy that can occur.

Throughout our lifetimes, many of us will experience conditions that change the way our bodies respond sexually, from childbirth to aging to changes in physical and mental health to simply experiencing accidents or injuries. If we have rigid ideas about sex and consider everything else a failure, these changes can feel like even more of a loss.

Focusing on the wide range of ways we can feel pleasure and intimacy makes all kinds of encounters successful.

In order to talk about our bodies, we need to know what’s going on with our bodies! Part of what’s lacking from most sex ed is any talk about pleasure. So if we know about anatomy at all, it’s usually from the point of view of procreation, not what feels good.

University studies have shown that among people with vulvas, only roughly twenty-six percent have taken a close look. I’m talking “get cozy with a mirror” close. And while that number feels shockingly low to me, the state of sexual health in our culture seems to bear it out.

Information about sex, and sexual anatomy, is political. Information about bodies has come and gone from textbooks over the centuries, heavily influenced by the morality of the time. Some of this information has only resurfaced in the last few decades.

For people with vulvas, there’s a lot going on that you can’t see from the outside. The clitoral complex, and in fact the whole clitoral-urethral-vaginal complex, is an elaborate system that ties together to make a variety of forms of pleasure possible.

Even the words surrounding bodies can be misleading. Most books refer to labia majora and labia minora, but built right into the names is the assumption that the minora are smaller, which is often not the case. For this reason, educators usually say inner and outer lips.

Choices of language like that matter, because if the mainstream terms don’t fit a person, that leaves them feeling damaged or wrong in some way, and those feelings have real-life consequences.

Even though bodies might look different from the outside, there are more similarities than you might realize. For one thing, there’s the same amount of erectile tissue in the clitoral complex as there is in a penis. One is just far more visible outside the body.

It’s well worth picking up a book that focuses on anatomy (see the resources section for suggestions), as this section is only an overview. Also, the science that we do have around the sexual function of our bodies is sorely lacking. It becomes especially complex when discussing the vulva, vagina, clitoris, and surrounding structures.

“The anatomical structures that might provoke vaginally activated orgasms rather than clitorally activated orgasms have not been completely and unequivocally described, probably representing a unique case of remaining major uncertainty regarding human gross anatomy . . . Whether the Gräfenberg spot is a discrete entity, a complex structure, or a gynaecological myth created for journalistic purposes, or with the aim of supporting surgical aesthetic manipulations of the female genitals, remains unclear. [Furthermore] the existence of the vaginally activated orgasm, based on the opinion or experiences of a number of women, has often been rejected, largely for political rather than scientific reasons.”⁴

Although the details are still debated, what is sure is that many people experience great pleasure and orgasm from having the area of their vaginal wall commonly called the G-spot stimulated. We are now seeing that this area is more accurately described as the clitourethrovaginal (CUV) complex.

For people with penises, whether or not they’ve been circumcised can play a role in how sensitive they are and the ways they like to be touched. The frenulum is often very sensitive—as to whether this is a good thing or a bad thing, you’ll have to ask the person it’s attached to.

The same is true for the clitoral glans, the part of the clit that you can see outside the body. For some people it’s too sensitive for direct stimulation. For others, a great deal of intense stimulation is necessary for pleasure.

We think we know where most of the pleasure centers of the genitals are, but they’re far more varied and complex than you might realize. And everyone is different. For some people, their labia are more sensitive or more receptive to pleasurable touch than their clitoris.

For some people, the scrotum is an area of untapped enjoyment, and for others this area might be too sensitive or ticklish.

While anal play or anal sex might be considered taboo by some, it’s also an area of the body with a lot of sensitive nerve endings, and an area that can receive a great deal of pleasure. Simply exploring around the outside of the anus can be an intensely pleasurable feeling, and you can stop there if penetration doesn’t sound appealing.

If you do want to try anal penetration, know that this area is so sensitive, every movement can be felt acutely, and you don’t need much girth to make an impact. Exploring with a single finger or with a toy made for anal play is a great way to get started. Curved toys are pleasurable for many people, as they help stimulate either the prostate or the G-spot. (Yes, you can stimulate the CUV region from the anal cavity!)

Anal penetration generally goes past the first two sphincters, the one you can see when you look at the body, and a second internal sphincter that you can’t consciously control. At the other end of the rectum is a third sphincter, leading to the colon, and it’s best not to explore that far when you’re playing. Not only would that enhance the likelihood of causing harm, but at that point there aren’t very sensitive receptors for pleasure, so there isn’t anything to be gained.

Pleasure anatomy isn’t just about the genitals. Our whole bodies from tip to toe can experience exquisite pleasure, and it’s your (fun!) job to find all the places on your body, and on partners’ bodies, that are the most enjoyable.

For every body part I can list, there will be some people who love having it touched or played with and other people it leaves cold. There’s no way around asking and experimenting. But it helps to know the general layout so you know what things are on the menu to try.

4 Jannini, E. A., Buisson, O., Rubio-Casillas, A., “Beyond the G‐Spot: Clitourethrovaginal Complex Anatomy in Female Orgasm,” Nature Reviews Urology 11,, no. 9 (2014): 531–538; published online 12 August 2014. doi:10.1038/nrurol.2014.193.