Maybe Sex Isn't Sinful, Maybe You Just Feel Silly

In my last post, I talked about Queer Imposter Syndrome and the feeling of not being “gay enough” that a lot of folks have when they come out later in life. 

But there's a specific flavor of queer imposter syndrome that deserves its own post. It's the feeling of being a fully functional, self-aware, proudly queer person… who suddenly feels extremely uncomfortable when it comes to exploring queer sex for the first (or second, or third) time. 

You know sex isn't sinful. You’re proud of your queer identity. You've read the books, you've been to therapy. You've given yourself permission to experience pleasure. 

And yet, you still find yourself staying up late at night googling things that make you feel like an inexperienced teenager because you’re scared to make an embarrassing blunder on your next date with that queer baddie you desperately want to impress. 

Embarrassment vs. Shame 

I talk to a lot of queer folks just leaving purity culture or coming out later in life. Many are doing both at the same time. And I’ve noticed there are two similar-but-distinct feelings that often come up for people. 

Purity culture shame says that sex is inherently dangerous, that your body is something to be managed and controlled, and that desire itself is evidence of a moral failing. That type of shame is even more pronounced for queer folks. 

The other feeling is simply embarrassment. It's the discomfort of being new at something. It’s the worry that you’ll make a silly mistake and someone will laugh at you or think less of you during a moment of vulnerability. 

Even though they can feel similar in the moment, they’re different problems with different solutions. Purity culture shame often needs to be unpacked, processed, and shown a whole lot of compassion. Embarrassment often just needs time, curiosity, and probably a little bit of learning to laugh at yourself. 

Nobody Gave Us “The Talk” 

The thing is, queer intimacy and sex really are different. Not because of any particular combination of bodies or anatomy, but because hetero relationships have a cultural script we learn from a young age that queer sex largely doesn't have.

We all absorb a basic blueprint for straight sex and relationships through a thousand different channels. Movies, health class, peer conversations, or the awkward parental talk (that’s only if your parents were “progressive” enough to have that conversation at all.) 

Even though that script is deeply flawed, it’s still a script that mostly everyone has access to. There's a cultural standard for what's "supposed" to happen when and in what order.

Queer sex doesn't have that. And for a lot of us who also grew up in high-control religion, we also managed to miss the peer group experiences that a lot of people got during their teens and early twenties. So we're working with even less information and fewer reference points.

It can help to remember that actually, the same qualities you need to improvise without a script are the ones that make for a great partner. Curiosity, a willingness to listen, and an open mind are pretty sexy. 

Not Your Parent’s Sex Talk 

This is not a how-to guide for queer sex. There are resources for that, and they're great, and you should use them. This is just a short list of reminders for when the imposter syndrome strikes right before your next date. 

Communicate, Even When It's Awkward (Especially When It's Awkward)

Checking in with a partner is not a mood-killer. It's actually kind of the point. Queer sex often involves more negotiation by default, and that can actually be to your benefit when you’re feeling like the new kid on the block. 

Asking questions like, “What sounds good? What doesn't? What do you want to try?” can feel impossibly vulnerable the first few times if you’re not used to talking openly about your desires. Do it anyway. 

Just remember that consent should always be enthusiastic and ongoing. You should always be able to feel comfortable changing your mind, even after starting something. Likewise, you should always respect that your partner’s consent can be pulled back at any time. 

Stay Curious Instead of Staying in Your Head

Performance anxiety can be especially loud when you feel like you “should” already know what you're doing. The mental spiral of "am I doing this right, does this seem weird, what are they thinking, why did I just do that" is a very common experience, but getting curious can help you stay present in the moment. 

What feels good? What do you want to explore? Are there specific expectations or desires that either of you have for your time together? Showing genuine interest in what's happening instead of trying to guess what the other person is thinking makes for a much more connected and enjoyable experience.

Silliness Is Encouraged

Bodies are, objectively, a little bit funny. Things happen during sex that are unexpected, or ungraceful, or just genuinely ridiculous. This is true for everyone across the board. 

Laughing together is not a sign that something went wrong or that the moment is ruined. It's a sign that you're both present and comfortable enough to be fully human with each other. Some of the most genuinely intimate moments come right after something ridiculous happens and you both just let it be funny and move on. 

There's No Finish Line

The idea that sex is a sequence of steps with one correct ending, and that the goal is to arrive at that ending as efficiently as possible, is one of the saddest ideas that heteronormativity has given us. (Okay maybe there are actually a lot worse things than that, but still. It sucks.) 

Pleasure is not a destination. Exploration and fun are not checklists. Intimacy can be created in a million different ways. You can’t really go wrong if you always come back to the question, “What do we both want out of this experience, together, right now?” 

You're Allowed to Be a Beginner

You don’t have to pretend to have experience you don't have. You're allowed to not know something, to ask a question, to try something and decide it's not for you, to need a minute, or to change your mind entirely halfway through the experience. 

The other person involved has also, at some point, been new at this. They figured it out. You will too. In the meantime, "I'm still figuring out what I like" is not an embarrassing thing to say. Honesty is actually one of the kindest (and hottest) things you can offer someone you're being intimate with.