Sex Is A Skill

It’s not an innate talent.

It’s not something you can never be good at.

It is also not something that you will be good at every single time you do it.

Of course that sounds pretty straightforward, but is that how we usually look at it?

The thing with sex, in this culture and most cultures across the globe, is that we believe in not talking about it at all. We believe talking about it too early will make our kids perverse or experimental and non-committal.

Until they get married.

Then, we want to talk to them about sex all the time. Like, how much sex are they having? 

And are they trying this particular position that will increase the chances of them conceiving a boy? 

Are they eating the right foods to increase chances of pregnancy and keeping their spouses in the mood for sex?

This line of thought isn’t about being good at sex to actually revel in your partner’s company or experience pleasure within your own body. Sex in this context is a means to ensure you produce children for the family.

But for the newer generations that grew up with pleasure-focused sex in their media and entertainment, sex is now about social success.

It’s about being good in bed, making those orgasms happen, thinking of sex and masturbation as self-love, and even building a bond with your partners through sex.

“How to ride him like a pro”

“How to give her the G-spot orgasm she deserves”

“6 Ways to give P-spot orgasms”

Sex today has less to do with the babies you do or do not make. But it has so much more to do with how good you are at it. And what a great goal to have! To crave pleasure for yourself and be genuinely interested in your partner having a good time too.

But between the idea of sex existing only to make babies, and the cultural shift towards treating sex as a rite of passage and a marker for success, we seem to have forgotten to talk about what it actually takes to be good at sex— practice.

It’s like asking someone to think of food as a basic means to survive all their life.

You’re prepared for a life of only making rotis (i.e. for sustenance), then suddenly you’re told that you have to make a perfect Eggs Benedict.

Cook it perfectly the very first time you make it.

Make it for your partner every night.

It better be good even when you have a bad day at work.

Or an injury, or a bad mental health day.

Even if you’ve had a bit to drink.

And you can experiment with the recipe, but it still has to be perfect.

Every. Single. Time.

I can’t even make sure my tea is consistently perfect. How the hell am I supposed to bring that kind of game to the bedroom?

How was 19 year old me supposed to have the understanding and confidence that I have as a full grown adult today? How is post-menopausal me with a likelihood of vaginal dryness and pelvic pains supposed to be as confident as I am in my twenties?

How am I supposed to perform sex perfectly every time and still feel like a human being? 

This approach to sex as an act of performance, perfection and an innate ‘ability’ to be great at it, also assumes that all your partners will always want sex the same way.

It assumes that everyone achieves orgasms the same way, it assumes that you can take techniques you learnt from an article online or from your last relationship and execute it with a new partner and still get the same results.

Where is the freedom to be a unique individual and a full human being if we assume that we can master the art of giving someone pleasure not by asking them for their specific needs, but by reading a trending article online? Or making assumptions based on porn? Or projecting our ex’s preferences onto our new partners?

Sex isn’t something anyone’s body is ‘naturally good’ at.

That would be like claiming that some people are just naturally better at tasting wine.

Your body doesn’t automatically know how to ride a partner, it learns through practice. It doesn’t immediately know how to locate a clitoris by your finger or your tongue, it learns by listening to the feedback your partner gives you.

Practice teaches you how to move those hips, how to work those fingers and your ability to take feedback and learn from it is what makes you good in bed.

Until you meet a new partner or experience a change in preferences or movements with your current partner, and have to learn something new all over again.

Because sex is not about an ability your body either already has or never will. It’s a skill you develop and continue to work on.

It’s a skill you sharpen as your body grows older and more tired and requires new positions or new tools of support to move in certain ways.

It’s an art form you practice differently each time to make room for your partner when they have back aches or leg injuries or migraines, develop a disability or chronic illness, or find traumatic memories associated with certain acts.

It’s a skill you have to remain engaged with as you explore different environments with different levels of privacy and comfortable furniture.

Good sex was never in the size or speed in your movements. 

It’s about partners who feel safe enough to give you clear feedback and direction, and receive your feedback and communication with just as much care and sincerity.

Good sex is not in glute strength or upper body fitness. It is in your desire to adapt and meet your partners halfway. It is in the way you adjust your hands or shift your hips because your partner asked you to.

Good sex is something anyone can do.

All you need to do, is ask.