When life’s complications get in the way of sex

It can even happen in new relationships

Hey folks! We are back. Emily is finally through all the edits to Come Together and writing newsletters again. See you every Thursday for the foreseeable future.

We’re linking to indie booksellers each week where you can pre-order Come Together. This week, we’re shouting out to our friends at Book Moon Books in Easthampton MA, The Black Pearl in Austin, TX, and The Ripped Bodice in LA and Brooklyn. Support independent bookstores!

On to this week’s question:

Hi Emily,

My friend and I are starting a sexual relationship. We both have busy lives. We planned a sexy evening away at a hotel a few weeks ago so we could enjoy each other away from our messy lives.

However my partner is selling his house and 2 big complications happened during our time together so we didn't have the playful, exploratory sex that was planned. He just went to sleep, leaving me awake and horny for hours. How does one honor their disappointment without making the other person feel guilty and still offer support?

–Bothered but supportive

My first thought on reading this excellent question was to talk about the dual control model, brakes and accelerator, and how stress can hit the brakes—but then I noticed that you’re not asking why sex didn’t happen. I think you completely understand why your friend just went to sleep. Your question is about not making him feel bad, while also creating space for your understandable disappointment.

And that’s a communication question, not a sex question. Which is great, but so much more complicated.

I find the simplest way to help people understand how to talk (and feel) about sexual topics in a relationship is to consider what we’d do if it were anything other than sex.

Let’s say that instead of a sexy evening away at a hotel, you planned to cook an amazing meal for your friend. But your partner had a very busy day and two big complications happened during the meal, so that by the end he had hardly eaten anything and didn’t seem to notice the perfect browning on the crust, the tender texture of the vegetables, the balanced sweetness of the dessert. He was distracted, stressed, putting sporadic forkfuls of food into his mouth, chewing without tasting, talking without engaging.

Oof, right?

Maybe the conversation the next day goes like this:

COOK: How are you feeling? You were so stressed last night.

PARTNER: Much better, I got a good night’s sleep and that helped a lot.

COOK: I’m so glad. If you’re feeling up to it, could I bring up something about feelings? I know you’re already pretty overwhelmed.

(This is the gentle startup recommended by the Gottman Institute, among others.)

PARTNER: Sure!

COOK: It’s no kind of crisis, and I’m super-aware of all the difficult things going on in your life, and all I need right now is just compassion and validation. I just wanted to say out loud that I put a lot of effort into dinner and I had this idea that when you got here you’d be able to relax and really enjoy this amazing meal I put hours into preparing, and then it turned out you were just way too stressed for that and… well… I was disappointed.

At this point, it could go a lot of ways, depending on many factors, but here’s a best case scenario.

PARTNER: Oh no! I could tell you put a lot of work into it and I could even tell that you were hoping I’d really enjoy it, but I was so distracted and exhausted that I couldn’t summon the emotional energy for it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you in the way you were hoping.

COOK: I completely understand!

PARTNER: Are there leftovers? I feel like today, now that some of those other complications are sorted out, I could really savor some leftovers.

But sex is different from preparing a meal, in a way. Most of us were not raised to feel like our ability to prepare an elaborate and impressive meal is somehow extremely important and our whole identities are tied to being good at it, being wanted, and having the appropriate amount of it in our lives. We weren’t raised to believe that we should be able to savor the hell out of any meal we’re served, no matter our state of mind when we sit down at the table, no matter the quality of the food, no matter our relationship with the chef. We know that preparing food is a skill and that people’s tastes vary; we know that the pleasure of food varies depending on any number of factors, including our state of mind, health, and relationship to the people who prepared it and to food itself. I’m not saying our relationships with food are simple, far from it, but we weren’t raised to feel like we’re worthless human beings if a meal doesn’t go well.

But many of us were raised to feel like sex is that important, as if there’s something very wrong with us if there’s something slightly wrong in our sex lives.

The stakes feel perilously high. Maybe especially because your sexual relationship is new and that newness brings a worry that the slightest misstep could shut everything down. Instead of the best case scenario, what if he feels defensive, as if your simply asking for a little understanding and compassion is the same as blaming and judging him for not “performing” like a man? What if … what if one or both of you is a survivor of trauma and that tangles up your ability to say anything at all out loud about sex?

There are so many layers here, including how each person feels, how each person feels about how they feel, how each person feels about how the other person feels, and how each person was taught they’re “supposed to” feel and express those feelings. SO MANY FEELINGS. Do you believe your partner is more entitled to his feelings than you are? Do you believe your feelings could possibly be “wrong” while your partner’s are “right”? Do you believe that if your partner misinterprets your communication of your feelings as “blame” that it’s because you failed to be clear that you 100% have empathy for their experience and are just seeking a little connection and empathy around your experience, and so you just need to try again (and again and again) to express it more clearly and if only you could express it right it would all be okay but if you can’t express it right then you don’t deserve to have your feelings respected????

FEELINGS!!!

And the fact that it’s been a few weeks and you’re still having feeings about it means the feelings are just getting more complex, like the flavor of cheese as it ages.

So this is really just the beginning of an answer to a question about something as complicated as the feelings we have about our partner’s interest in sex (or lack thereof). My new book, which is focused on sex in long-term relationships, is about 100,000 words long and I still feel like it doesn’t cover every possible topic a couple might need to consider!

But though you may encounter a big tangle of feelings—your own and your partner’s—ultimately the foundation of these kinds of conversations is simple: What do you need from your partner, when you tell him what you felt? What do you fear he’ll experience, when you tell him what you felt? What does he need? What does he fear you’ll experience, if he expresses that need?

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, and you don’t know the answer to at least half of them, but I do know that when people like, respect, and trust each other, it’s possible to talk about these questions in ways that are as exploratory and playful as the sex you were hoping to have.

Hope that helps—though I know it’s definitely not the whole answer!

Emily

More info here

📕📕 And please check out Book Moon Books in Easthampton MA, The Black Pearl in Austin, TX, and The Ripped Bodice in LA / Brooklyn if you can! 📕📕

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