It’s a bit embarrassing to admit this, as someone who literally makes my living writing about (among other things) the ethics of consent, but I am frequently complicit in my own sexual boundaries being steamrolled. (And yes, content note: this essay will discuss sex that is technically consensual but definitely reluctant.)
This is something I’ve been working on in therapy recently. I had started to notice that there would be many situations in which I didn’t really feel like having sex but nonetheless offered a blowjob or somesuch to whoever I was with, because of a nebulous anxiety I felt throughout my body that seemed to insist this was the only workable solution to what seemed like a very pressing problem. Given that I obviously know I’m well within my rights to say no to sex for any reason at all, this was a bit perplexing to me.
Of course, a history of trauma can make a person generally more prone to behaviors like fawning, freezing and submitting, especially when they’re in situations that are emotionally reminiscent of their trauma(s). But upon digging deeper on this particular issue with my therapist, I discovered that there’s a bit more to it than that. What I learned is that I pre-emptively offer sexual favors to dates because, underneath my seemingly sexually confident exterior, I have such a deep and pervasive sense of shame and worthlessness that I worry these dates wouldn’t like me if not for sex. I’m so afraid of that moment – “Oh, you don’t want to blow me? Well, that’s all I wanted here, so fuck this, I’m leaving” – that I proactively take steps to avoid it, by offering to do things I only sorta want to do. The trauma logic goes: it’s easier (at least in theory) to give head than to be faced with the certainty of my own unlovability.
GIven that I’m actively working through issues like this one in therapy, I’ve realized that I’m not in a good place right now to have casual sex, or even sex with people I’m casually dating, because I simply don’t trust myself to uphold my own boundaries and keep myself safe in that arena right now. I’ve seen how succumbing to these trauma-borne impulses can ultimately just re-traumatize me, and I want to step outside of that behavioral loop for a while so I can hopefully put an end to it.
But, naturally, that’s easier said than done.
There is a total sweetheart I’ve been seeing casually and occasionally over the past few months. We have great conversations. He makes me laugh. He’s sweet, considerate and progressive. He’s slightly dominant-leaning. In theory, this would be a good person for me to hook up with on an ongoing basis. In practice, however, I kept panicking internally every time the opportunity presented itself. I think the stakes can feel even higher when I’m on a date with an ostensibly good, feminist person who seems to “see” me at a level that’s more than skin-deep, because if someone like that rejected me for not wanting to “put out,” it would make it even harder for me to trust others going forward. So I’ve just been avoiding the issue, throwing blowjobs and reassurances at the problem, while unable to get turned on or to invite him to touch my body because I’m just too tense and fucked up at the moment for that.
Eventually I realized that this avoidance itself was part of the problem, though – and my therapist and I agreed that it was probably time for me to tell this dude what was going on with me and set some boundaries.
I’m not gonna lie: it was very, very scary to tell someone whose lovely dick has been in my mouth that all such activities will be off the table for the foreseeable future. But I gathered my guts and sent him a text explaining that because of where my mental health is at right now, I’m only able to be friends. I told him I would 1,000% understand if that meant he didn’t want to see me anymore – and this, too, was a defensive strategy, meant to take the sting out of a rejection if indeed one did end up happening.
But it didn’t. He was entirely supportive and understanding, and assured me in ways that seemed quite genuine – both via text and, later that night, over drinks – that he truly enjoys spending time with me, and having conversations with me, and would actually like us to be actual friends.
The relief I feel in my body and brain as a result of this is staggering. It takes so much mental effort to keep someone at arm’s length without really telling them why. I hate making up excuses or flat-out lying to people, saying I’m “not feeling well” when I’m actually just wracked with panic, saying I’d like to see them but “need to check my schedule” when that’s not even true, saying I’m “having a weird mental health day” when in fact I’m having a weird mental health life. It was unimaginably freeing to just be fucking honest. Terrifying, yes, but eventually exhilarating.
The central lesson I’ve learned from therapy – and will continue to learn, probably for the rest of my life – is that it doesn’t matter what other people do, or don’t do, because regardless, I will always love myself and I will always be inherently loveable and worthy of love. No one can take that away from me, no matter how poorly they may treat me or how many awful views they may hold about people like me. This sense of self-love, of being there for myself, is the most important thing in my entire life because it is the only thing I will always be able to rely on, no matter what. And one of the most powerful ways I can demonstrate that love and esteem for myself is by figuring out what boundaries I want or need to set, and then setting the fuck out of them.
It’s certainly easier to do this when the recipient of that boundary-setting is chill and kind. But it’s also vital that I be able to do it even when they’re not. I have to be able to stare into a face full of disappointment or skepticism or rage and still say no. I have to be strong enough to withstand shaming and insults and letting people down. I have to care more about my own health and safety than I care about being liked.
It’s hard. It’s hard every single day. But every time I do something like this, something that proves my self-love in an undeniable way, I get braver. I get stronger. And I get closer to being my best, highest, most healed self.