I stopped having sex like a capitalist, you should try it
words by Laura Roscioli
“Now, at 29, with years of orgasm-chasing one night stands, toxic relationships and unlearning under my belt, I think I finally get it.”
Laura Roscioli is a sex writer based in Melbourne. She feels passionately about making sex (and the conversations around it) more accessible, approachable and open. She also believes that the best learnings come from lived experience, and she’s here to share hers with you each fortnight on FJ alongside other musings, experiences and questions. You can follow Laura on Instagram at @lauraroscioli.
I used to have so much energy for all kinds of sex. One night stands. Crazy kinks. All-nighters with an unexpected participant. Couples, friends, people from the internet. I think it was because it was all a bit of a mystery. I was figuring out what I liked, my sexuality, my boundaries. But I was also figuring out what it meant to be a sexual woman in a male dominated world. I was in an era of understanding how my sexuality could be empowering, rather than something that decreases my value.
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I feel we’re not really told enough about sex, especially as women. We’re not taught to ask for what we want, we’re not really sure what the norm is… we just feel a lot of pressure to look a certain way and be into certain things, without asking ‘why?’. It was a lot to learn but it gave me the energy to engage with sex in a somewhat surface-level and self-focused way.
As I’ve grown into myself, my relationship with sex has changed so much. I don’t have the energy for sex that doesn’t make me feel safe and grounded. I very rarely feel that animalistic desire to consume sex to satiate a need to figure it – and myself – out, because I’m not aiming for this unachievable pinnacle of orgasm anymore. It’s not a mystery I need to solve to have good sex. But it used to be.
Back in my one night stand days, orgasms felt like the headline act. That everything I — and the person I was in bed with — did, was in the lead up to the orgasm. There were different ways to get there, of course, but really, sex was all about cumming.
It’s a lot of pressure to fully let go and have a wild, mind-bending experience in an intimate setting with someone you hardly know, in the unquestioned effort to reach an orgasm. But it’s always been part of the criteria of doing sex ‘successfully’.
“We’ve come to define ‘good sex’ as achieving an orgasm mostly through the way sex is sold to us,” says sex therapist, Aleks Trkulja. “We’ll often see porn, film and TV scenes that portray a ‘good’ sexual experience as one where people are ejaculating and orgasming.”
Aleks thinks there’s an element of capitalist mentality within it too, where even in sex, we have to “always be producing and achieving and if we’re not, we feel that somehow we’ve failed”. This rings so true to my early experiences with sex. If I wasn’t able to cum or, worse still, I wasn’t able to make the person I was intimate with cum, I felt like I hadn’t done it right.
“There’s this deeply entrenched capitalist attitude, even within a space like sex, that truthfully has no real agenda or criteria of what it should and shouldn’t look like. This pressure is damaging and creates performance anxiety.”
This is why sex can feel stressful. It’s like we’re working towards this goal we don’t really understand and it actually takes us out of the moment and into our heads, making the experience less enjoyable.
And it also becomes boring over time. If each time you have sex with someone new, you’re trying to achieve that same thing in a different way, it can feel predictable. Like, not this again! Not another night of me wondering if I’m good enough at giving blowjobs because they didn’t orgasm from it. Not another night of feeling someone figure out how they’re best going to conquer my body and give me “the best orgasm” I’ve ever had.
By the time I was single again after my previous long-term relationship, I was so done with all of that. I didn’t feel horny for sex unless it was going to be a relaxing, fun and energising experience. To me, that was what I’d come to decide good sex was.
Aleks defines good sex as “a sexually intimate experience you have with consenting adults, where you feel safe and your pleasure is prioritised”. A space that has allowed you to have “an embodied, grounded, enjoyable and curious time”.
“That definition is really important,” she says. “A lot of people assume good sex means you had multiple orgasms, your dick was rock hard the entire time etc. And it actually has very little to do with function and more to do with how safe and present you feel in your body. That you’re enjoying what you’re doing with yourself or with other people.”
Now, at 29, with years of orgasm-chasing one night stands, toxic relationships and unlearning under my belt, I think I finally get it.
You could literally just be lying down with someone, your clothes off and being stroked in a way that makes you tingle all over: that is good sex. If you’re able to create an environment that makes you feel sexually attuned with yourself, where you feel able to explore free of judgment, where you feel turned on without having to think too hard, where your curiosity and comfort, like Aleks said, is more at the forefront of your mind than your orgasm-count; that is good sex.
“Because we live in a culture and society that deeply conditions us with very intense attitudes around sex that are often embedded within shame, it can be a really difficult process to unlearn your sexual attitudes and beliefs,” says Aleks. “It’s really normal to need professional help, often because the people around you haven’t done that work and you’ll constantly be faced with those beliefs.”
However, if we want to feel empowered and energised by sex, it’s important to redefine what pleasure means to us.
“You need to learn to be present in your body and find pleasure and joy in your body, in a way that is not defined by goal-oriented achievements,” she says. “So not: I orgasmed – therefore I achieved good sex, but rather; I felt pleasure in my body, I felt safe in my body, I was curious in my body. That is good enough. It’s pleasurable.”
These feelings need to become the new indicators for what is a sexually satisfying experience – not the big ‘O’.
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