A reader asked: I have a FWB whose penis smells and tastes really funky, every time. How do I tell him without hurting his feelings?
I’ve been asked variations on this question countless times in my years as a professional sex-advice-giver, and it’s one that I’ve never really had a good answer for.
On the one hand: Obviously if you intend to continue fucking someone, you want the fucking to be a pleasant experience for both of you, and the other person probably wants that too – so it makes sense to talk about these types of concerns, so they can perhaps be solved or worked around. In addition, an unusual taste or smell can be a sign of a medical issue (e.g. bacterial vaginosis or a penile yeast infection) and/or inadvisable personal hygiene practices (e.g. douching and thereby fucking up your vaginal pH, or not knowing you’re supposed to wash under your foreskin), and you could actually be doing someone a favor if you let them know about the smell/taste issue so they can get it checked out.
On the other hand: Most people already have some degree of body insecurity and sex shame, and those two terrible forces come together most potently around issues related to our genitals. Even just mentioning that a partner’s junk doesn’t smell daisy-fresh can be enough to saddle them with insecurities and hangups that they’ll live with for a long, long time. (I’m not exaggerating; scrolling through the /r/sex subreddit daily, I frequently see posts from people who say that they’re too ashamed to let anyone go down on them, because one person made them feel shitty about their genitals like 5+ years ago.) I also think many people have unrealistic ideas about what genitals should taste/smell like; it’s never gonna be all roses and sugar cookies down there, and it’s unreasonable to expect that.
That being said, it is bothersome when you want to go down on someone (or whatever) and their current hygiene situation makes you think twice about that. For as long as I’ve been in this industry, one piece of standard advice given to people in this situation is to suggest showering together before sex. At first blush, I like this tactic, because it’s non-shaming, implies that you too might need to freshen up, and works well as sexy foreplay, since you’re naked and soaping each other up, etc. But I worry that this is the kind of thing which would only work a handful of times, after which your partner might start to suspect there’s something you’re not telling them. Plus, if the issue in the first place is that they don’t know how to wash their junk properly, then they’re not magically going to wash their junk properly just because there’s another person in the shower with them. Sure, you can try to do it for them, and can maybe even make it sexy to do so, but this could also come across as condescending, and the person would probably figure out pretty quickly why you were doing it. (And also, please never put soap in a vagina, ever.)
So, while I think the “Let’s shower together!” move could be effective in a pinch for a one-night stand or somesuch, it’s probably not a workable long-term solution. If you want to be with someone for the long haul, I think you need to be able to be honest with them. The question is, how honest should you be?
Before I try to give advice on this situation, I should preface it by saying that this is not an issue I’ve often faced myself, on either side of the equation (at least not to my knowledge). I’ve gotten generally good reviews on my own genital scent/flavor (not to brag, but…), and I’ve only encountered partners’ hygiene issues at times when I could reasonably expect them to be a little musky, like after a long day of walking around together. I have never, as some people on /r/sex describe, been horrified or nauseated by what I found when I pulled somebody’s underwear down.
That being said, here’s some tips I think you should keep in mind, if you feel that you need to tell your partner their genitals have been kinda funky lately:
Be aware of the stakes of what you’re saying. This is really not the same thing as telling someone, “Hey, your fly’s down! Zip it up!” or “Your bra strap is showing!” You are commenting on a part of this person’s body that is culturally considered synonymous with their desirability and even their value as a partner. Approach this issue with sensitivity, and use your best judgment to tell if you’ve taken things too far and need to dial up the reassurance immediately.
…but don’t make it too serious. I don’t think this is the kind of thing where you should send a “Hey, can we talk on Tuesday night? There’s something I want to discuss” type of text, for instance. Making something into a big, scary Event will often backfire, as the person’s anxiety mounts before the planned conversation. And even if you don’t plan it ahead of time, taking an overly serious tone during these types of conversations can come across as patronizing, or can make it seem like you think smelly junk is a death sentence for your sex life (it really doesn’t have to be).
Compliment-sandwich the criticism with desire. If the reason you’re bummed about the hygiene issue is that you’d love to go down on your partner more, you should tell them that. A lot of people’s knee-jerk reaction to genital critique comes from the fear that it means they’re gross, undesirable, or unloveable. You can help counteract that by foregrounding your desire for them, and for their bits, in the way you raise the issue – e.g. “I really love going down on you, it’s so hot, but lately it’s been harder for me because…”
Lean toward concern, not disgust. If you can’t talk about this issue with your partner without seeming disgusted, maybe practice your speech out loud a few times until you can manage it. Instead, frame your feedback as being based in concern (because hopefully it is, at least in part!), e.g. “Hey babe, I’ve noticed that your junk tastes a little different lately, is everything feeling alright down there? Do you think you need to go to the doctor?”
Take responsibility for the parts of the issue that are a “you problem.” I think it’s important to note here that some people love musky genitals, to the point of fetishizing them, jerking off to their partners’ sweaty underwear after the gym, etc. So, even if you think your partner’s current scent is abhorrent, not everyone would. There is an element of personal preference in what you’re expressing, and it can be helpful to take ownership of that, e.g. “I personally have some sensory issues around going down on someone who’s been sweating lately; would you mind if we showered together first?”
Invite sexual feedback from the other person, too. Part of what’s so embarrassing about being told your junk smells is that it can make you feel like you’re the gross one, while your partner is pristine/hot/perfect – which can all too easily trigger a shame spiral. We can neutralize this effect somewhat by clearly communicating that we know we’re not perfect, because no one is – e.g. by adding, after you tell them about your concerns, “Also, if there’s anything I could be doing differently to make sex better/hotter for you, please let me know.”
Ultimately, though, there’s no foolproof way to have a conversation like this. The other person is gonna have feelings about it, and you’re gonna have feelings about those feelings. It’s gonna be embarrassing, and destabilizing, and might even affect your ability to have good, relaxed, trusting sex together for a while.
But that’s the nature of relationships (including many non-romantic copulationships!): you do your best to resolve conflicts in calm, non-accusatory ways, and you offer each other support as needed during and after these conflicts. We’re all stumbling through everything all the time, trying our best to be good and liked and wanted, but we’re human. Our human bodies are fallible, imperfect, and – yes – sometimes sweaty or dirty. The point is not to have an immaculate crotch or immaculate communication skills; the point is to try our best for each other, day after day, even if that means having a hard conversation, a hot shower, and a good long cry together. There are always going to be flaws in the plan, flies in the ointment, smegma in the crevices. We can and do love each other despite these imperfections, and the more we can love another person’s flaws, the more we learn to embrace our own, too.