Bad Sex, Good Infection

I have always thought sex was a little weird. Think about it. You meet someone you like, you fancy them, maybe you love them. There is flirting, kissing, touching, anticipation, and then suddenly two people are naked, putting their genitals together and hoping the experience is worth it.

And somehow, we have collectively decided that this is one of the most natural things in the world while also making it one of the most difficult things to talk about.

I grew up reading romance novels where sex was described like a religious experience. There was always some man who kissed a woman’s neck and suddenly she was discovering dimensions of existence previously unknown to mankind.

And for many women, that was our sex education.

Books. Movies. Television. Imagination.

We fantasized about sex long before we understood what sex actually was. Majorly with our knight and bad guy in shining armor who understands the concept of wooing a woman. But I think somewhere along the line, we lost the romance and became obsessed with the mechanics.

For a long time, the stereotype was that men met women and immediately wondered how to get them out of their clothes.

Now, women are increasingly saying, “I’m not looking for a relationship. I just want to know if the dick is good.”

And honestly?

Valid.

Women are allowed to want sex simply because they want sex. Women are allowed to explore their bodies. Women are allowed to understand that pleasure is not something that belongs exclusively to men.

But I think there is a question we don’t ask enough:

What happens when the sex is actually terrible?

Because some men are out here distributing bad sex like unsolicited newsletters.

And I genuinely want men to answer this question:

Do you ever stop and wonder if you’re actually good at sex?

Not “have women slept with me?”

Not “did she say yes?”

Not “did I finish?”

I mean: Did she actually enjoy herself?

Because those are three very different questions.

Some men seem to approach sex like a construction project. They arrive, perform a series of activities they have either seen in porn or heard about from their friends, thrust enthusiastically for several minutes, ejaculate and consider the job completed.

Sir?!!!!

Completed by whom?

Because the woman is still there. And sometimes she is staring at the ceiling wondering if this is really what everyone has been talking about.

Some men don’t know anything about the female body. They don’t know what feels good, they don’t ask, they don’t listen, they don’t communicate.

They don’t even realise that sex is supposed to involve two people.

Some men don’t know how to kiss. Don’t get me started on the teeth clicking like some sword fight. Some don’t understand that different people like different things. Some don’t understand that pleasure isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience. And some men have apparently never received feedback in their entire lives.

This is where I think women need to become more honest.

Boo him. Yes darling, Boo HIM!!!

I am serious.

If the sex was terrible, tell him.

Because why are we protecting a grown man’s feelings at the expense of his future sexual partners?

If I was a man, I would want feedback.

Tell me what worked.

Tell me what didn’t.

Tell me what you liked.

Tell me what I completely misunderstood.

I would rather know that I am terrible at something so I can improve than confidently walk around believing I am God’s gift to women when everyone I’ve slept with is secretly writing a review titled, “Never Again.”

And women need feedback too. Because we have spent so long being taught that female pleasure is shameful that some women don’t even know their own bodies.

Masturbation was presented as dirty.

Desire was presented as dirty.

Wanting sex was presented as dirty.

Having an orgasm was presented as something that happened to other women in movies.

(#theycametogtheraftermakingthatridiculousface)

So you can imagine the confusion when a woman finally discovers what pleasure feels like and realises:

Wait. I’ve been missing THIS?

I once heard a woman describe having her first orgasm through masturbation as being able to hear colours and see sounds.

And I remember thinking: this woman had children. She had lived an entire adult life without knowing this existed.

That is heartbreaking.

Because how are you supposed to communicate what you want from another person when you’ve never had the opportunity to figure out what you want from yourself?

And this is why I think couples need to talk more about sex. Not just before sex, not just when something is wrong. But during, after, In fact all the time. Yes ask;

“What did you like?”

“Do you want me to do that again?”

“Was that uncomfortable?”

“Do you like this?”

“Do you want something different?”

Sex should not be a performance where both people pretend everything was wonderful because nobody wants to hurt anyone’s feelings.

And men should communicate too.

Tell her what you like.

Tell her what you don’t like.

If something feels good, say it.

If something doesn’t, say it.

You don’t win an award for suffering silently.

Good sex, to me, isn’t necessarily about some magical technique. It’s about attention, it is about curiosity. It is about both people being present enough to notice each other.

It is about understanding that the other person’s body is not a prop in your performance.

And perhaps most importantly, it is about making sure that when it is over, both people can honestly say:

Yeah. That was good.

Because there is something particularly offensive about terrible sex with a terrible person.

But do you know what makes it worse?

An infection.

Imagine this, a man has terrible hygiene, terrible character, terrible communication skills, terrible sex. And then…….., as though the universe wanted to add insult to injury, you discover that he has also gifted you an STI.

Sir?……..

You couldn’t even give me an orgasm, but you managed to give me an infection?

Boooooooo.

Imagine going through the emotional stress of discovering you have an infection and then remembering that the sex wasn’t even good.

You didn’t enjoy yourself, you didn’t climax, you didn’t even have a particularly memorable experience. And now you’re taking medication because of a man whose greatest sexual achievement was apparently leaving the room with his confidence intact.

That is a uniquely insulting experience.

Because if the sex had at least been extraordinary, you might sit somewhere processing the situation like:

“Well. Terrible decision. But unfortunately, the dick was excellent.”

Still bad.

But at least there is a complicated emotional explanation.

But bad sex AND an infection?

What exactly was the return on investment?

Nothing!!!!!!!.

You paid with your dignity, your peace of mind, your body and possibly your pharmacy bill.

For what? Five minutes?

Pleaseeeeee.

At that point, celibacy starts looking less like a spiritual journey and more like a sensible business decision.

And maybe that’s the real lesson here.

Sex doesn’t have to be shameful. Wanting sex doesn’t make you promiscuous, wanting pleasure doesn’t make you dirty, and telling someone that they were terrible in bed doesn’t make you cruel.

Sometimes, honesty is actually kindness.

Because somebody needs to tell these men;

You are not automatically good at sex because you have a penis.

You are not automatically good at sex because you’ve slept with twenty women.

You are not automatically good at sex because one woman screamed, or pretended to scream.

You might simply be very confident and very bad at your job.

Perhaps we should start treating sexual feedback like any other form of feedback. You don’t know you’re good at something because you enjoyed doing it. You know you’re good at it because the other person enjoyed it too.

And if you are going to give someone an infection? Please, for the love of God, at least let the sex have been good.

Because getting bad sex and an STI from the same man is not a sexual experience.

It is a hostile business transaction.

JoyzTheLostWriter ❤️😌