Queer sex liberation: a true story

In my last post, I spoke in general terms about how opening up definitions of gender or losing gendered stereotypes and expectations can also open a new world of creativity in sex. This is especially true for straight couples, or couples comprised of a cis-gendered man and cis-gendered woman.

When we talk about “sex” in straight relationships, it’s usually assumed that we mean the act of a penis penetrating a vagina. This definition is incredibly limiting, especially for women for whom external/clitoral stimulation is often far more enjoyable than the act of penetration itself.

This assumption is ingrained in us before we’re ever even “sexually active.” After all, what does it mean to “lose one’s virginity”? Usually, it means one’s first experience with penis-in-vagina (henceforth, PiV) sex.

By that definition, do people who never engage in straight sex EVER lose their virginity? I think most of us would agree that they/we do. . . but when? And do we assume that people who don’t engage in PiV sex don’t enjoy themselves? Of course not. (Or not anymore, anyway. Read on.)

Why should a straight relationship be limited in this way?

My personal experience says a lot about how and why my philosophy about “queering” straight sex developed.

For all of my teenage years and much of my adult life, this was the dynamic I lived with too. Eventually I married a man and was mostly happy - we were great companions and we shared many values. But I didn’t find joy in sex, and I didn’t know why. When our relationship ended in divorce - in large part due to our ever-diminishing sex life - I discovered my attraction to people who weren’t cis-gendered men.

(This happened when a woman made overt advances toward me at a bar and then introduced me to hot lesbian sex. Though she wasn’t my first female partner, it was the first time sex with a woman was, well, sexy. I think this has a lot to do with stereotypes about women as sexual aggressors versus receivers, but that’s a post for another day!)

As I continued to experience new sexual encounters and scenarios with women, I was at first quite surprised that I didn’t miss a thing. How could it be that the only “real” sex I had understood - PiV penetration - was now the dullest, least satisfying sex I could imagine?

I had been curious (maybe even a bit afraid) that losing the penis from the equation had to mean accepting an alternative that was second best.

Y’all, I could NOT have been more wrong.

It’s not that my sexual encounters with men didn’t include activities that weren’t PiV - they did. It’s that these means of connecting had been considered appetizers, short stops on the road to the entree, and so never had a chance to reach their full potential.

That was “foreplay. . .” and we all know that foreplay can be a rarity or short-lived for many straight relationships. Foreplay also of course implies that it’s what comes before the REAL sex.

Thankfully, I was one of the lucky ones who had some means - make that ONE means - to make the most of PiV sex. In fact, it was the only way I had had an orgasm with a man save for one single encounter in my mid-twenties. (Seriously, just one. In nearly 20 years of sex with men.)

So in my late 30’s, when I started to exclusively date women, you can imagine my surprise when I had orgasms MANY different ways. Repeatedly, even over a very short span of time. And without having to fake a single sound or put on any kind of show.

That experience is a lot of what inspires my work today.

I know this isn’t the experience of all women who sleep with cis-men. But it’s still problematic for far too many women in straight relationships who have no idea what they’re missing. And for what it’s worth, their male partners don’t know what they’re missing either.

Because a narrow view of sex as PiV limits women’s enjoyment, but it also limits men’s ability to be creative and to take part in sex that is mutually full, exciting, and satisfying. Orgasms are one measure of this, but authentic closeness, intimacy, and pleasurable sensations of all kinds are others.

I propose a new definition of sex for everyone, regardless of sexual orientation. Sex should be anything that brings us closer to ourselves or others, and that engages our senses in such a way that we feel present, connected, and full of hot energy. It should be an escape from the mundane, and a little glimpse at something deeper and more profound. Whether it’s a glance, or a quickie, or an hours-long Tantric ritual, it’s all about our intention.

We owe it to ourselves, and our partners.