The Pressure To Have Sex
Note: this article contains themes surrounding coercion, suicidal thoughts, and underage sex
If you’re in a relationship, the expectation and assumption is that you’re having regular sex. If you’re not, confusion arises unless you’ve been desexualised by society (e.g. the elderly). Sex is healthy, sex is good, sex – making love – is framed as an extension of the affection you harbour for your partner, and without it…something may feel off. This idea of sex, and the normalisation of sexualised images in the media, can make some of us feel pressure to have it: isn’t that what people do when they’re in love? However, some of us just don’t want to have it much, if at all.
I don’t know how long I’ve had a low sex drive, but it’s had a marked change over the years. Going without sex for months would have felt like a death sentence in my late teens and early 20’s, but now I just view it with a ‘it is what it is’ mindset. I had sex more when I was a teenager, but that was, of course, due to raging hormones and because I knew that that’s what was expected of me. When boyfriends and I started kissing on my bed, I didn’t see it ending any other way lest I get called a prude, leaving them with ‘blue balls’, or having them assume that I didn’t like them after all.
Thinking back, the first time I engaged in sexual activity, it was coercion. I didn’t want to, but as I was sleeping on the same sofa as him and we’d kissed earlier that night, I felt rude for being standoffish because he was already hard. Truth be told, I just wanted to sleep.
We were both thirteen and, as kids are inclined to do, I got teased for what felt like years in school: people I barely knew joined in! This led to humiliation and suicidal thoughts – something I was already prone to around that age. I can’t say for sure, but I’m almost certain that he didn’t experience any bullying - he was probably given numerous pats on the back by people in various school years.
From a young age, we’re fed this idea that men have this unquenchable desire for sex and that women must be careful about leading them on - or that it’s their fault for being a tease, even when sex hasn’t been discussed! It wasn’t until my early twenties – ten or eleven years after that night on the sofa – that I realised I didn’t have to give blowjobs (something I hated most) if I didn’t want to. After various instances of guys pushing my head down to their crotch, verbally withholding oral sex unless I reciprocated, and asking multiples times when it was clear I didn’t want to, it felt good knowing that I had more agency than I gave myself credit for.
There’s a right and wrong way to ask for sex: you should only ever have to ask once in each scenario and if the person on the receiving end declines, hesitates, turns way, or does anything that isn’t a confident ‘yes’, you should respect that and move on. If you respond to someone’s hesitation by making them feel bad or trying to give them reasons why you should (as if it’s even up for debate), you’re an asshole. However, sometimes that pressure can come from within.
To some extent, I’ve always been a meek people-pleaser, which is an unfortunate combination. If I assume that someone expects something from me, I feel varying degrees of pressure to provide, even if there is no evidence to support my thoughts. A man could innocently say, ‘I really like having sex with you’, or, ‘blowjobs feel amazing’ and that could translate into, ‘Have sex with/blow me now’ due to my own perception, expectations, and insecurities. Luckily, I’m with someone now who, for the most part, is someone I can take at face value; rather than hinting at certain things, he’s likely to just say them outright which makes for a much smoother journey.
In my current relationship, the most pressure I’ve felt to have sex was when it was highlighted that we don’t have it as much as we used to, beyond what’s expected in a long-term relationship where the ‘honeymoon period’ has long gone. Because this ‘lack’ was all down to me and my desires, I felt an enormous sense of responsibility for something which seemed out of my control at the time; either I had to force myself into wanting sex or let my partner down: in my mind there was no in- between. We discussed it, which forced me to look inwards and try to dissect why this had happened. The results are in: my mental health hasn’t been great for a while; as a result, my brain dulls my desires to the point where, sometimes, things I used to get excited about fill me more with apathy than gusto. This affects a lot of things, including my sex drive.
When you’re with someone with a different sex drive, it can create tension and one of you may feel like you’re letting the other down. On the morning of our talk, I felt guilty, broken, and it affected my mental health for hours because I couldn’t initially pinpoint what was ‘wrong with me’. Of course, nothing is wrong with you if you want sex less than someone else, but I wasn’t in a great state of mind.
I didn’t realise until the time of writing how strongly coercion was woven into my romantic and sexual history: it felt almost normal, like any aspect of misogyny that disguises itself as something innocent or invisible. It’s hard for me to comment on relationships with other genders, but out of the three people I’ve had intimate relationships with who weren’t men, only one made me feel like I was being pressured. I’m also confident that I’ve made people feel bad – intentionally or not – about not wanting to have sex with me, something I’m not proud of and keep a much sharper eye on now.
It’s important never to view sex as something that’s owed to you: whether you’re in a long-term relationship, married, or friends with benefits, always clarify whether or not they want to have sex and if they don’t, find something else to do.
Written by Shanade McConney
My name is Shanade and I’ve been passionate about writing for as long as I can remember. I've been known to play Fortnite for an obscene amount of time, I love putting a good outfit together, and I process life insurance applications near Bristol, where I’ve been based for 2 years. I’m trying to live my best life, whatever that might look like, and hope I never lose sight of the things that bring me joy.