‘I’m a Sexually Inexperienced Stud Afraid of Doing It Wrong’

Q:

Honestly I know I’m straight up lesbian ( stud ) and I’ve been in a few relationships with girls and I always ended it when things were about to get sexually heated. I’ve never had sex with a girl before and I’m highly insecure about my body. But now I wanna be sexually active, but the problem is I don’t know what to do, how to do it, and I don’t wanna do it wrong. Doing it wrong or causing another person pain while doing the wrong way freaks me out, and it’s one of the reasons I’m still nervous about having sex with a girl. I wanna learn how to but I wanna practice first but I don’t even know how to practice :sob:

A:

Hey, lovely OP. Let’s talk about self-esteem. Everything you’ve described is stuff I’ve been through one way or another. Your experiences happen regularly, even for those who are sexually experienced, and they’re very addressable.

Reading your letter reminded me of my internal monologue during an anxious spiral. For me, it’s the milder kind that becomes a regular mental discourse of inadequacy — the sort of thing I can manage but also slowly erodes at me over time. It’s sandpaper anxiety that wears you down smooth, not hammer and chisel anxiety that takes chunks out of you. These ‘milder’ feelings are momentarily surmountable, but they build up until we’re called upon to do something we’re anxious about. Then we realize how difficult things are. Your list of worries sounds like the cumulation of these stressors wearing you down over time, and now, sex seems very far away.

Most of the items you listed are completely routine even for sexually experienced people. Confidence in our sexual skills doesn’t just reinforce forever. It can wane, pass through unexpected phases, or be broken by the wrong person. It’s natural to not want to screw up with someone we like. The emotional stakes are high.

However, there are two things you listed that made me raise an eyebrow: the severe bodily insecurities you mentioned and a fear of causing someone pain due to your error. Both of those sound like they’re scaffolded by something personal being carried forward to the present.

Bodily insecurities are something I address often in these posts and my life. One of my default responses to that feeling in myself is saying that if someone likes you enough to date/have sex you, they already find you attractive. Even if they did notice things you consider flaws, they’re not enough to override the broader attraction they feel about you. That’s a big ‘if’, since the horrible things we say about our appearance are tailored by us, against us. We’re usually the first to notice and the most heavy-handed about enforcement. If you can’t rely on your own view to guide you, rely on theirs. Surely the person who’s attracted to you isn’t a fool.

The second part… Not wanting to cause someone pain by doing something wrong during sex. My initial guess is that there’s a personal story behind that and you’re worried about repeating whatever happened. Otherwise, it’s also normal to live in a consent-aware society and be worried about embodying the opposite of consent. I see shades of myself in that statement, too. I used to be much more sexually anxious. The times I have accidentally hurt someone during sex are still on the highlight reel of things I feel dreadful about.

Whether or not something’s already happened to cause you to be afraid of hurting someone during sex, I’ll give you my universally applicable answer.

It’s not about whether it’ll happen. It’s about how you respond when it inevitably happens.

Sex has a lot of literal and figurative moving parts. Moving parts of the fleshy, unpredictable, emotional kind. If you have a sexually active life, your odds of causing some kind of accidental harm will gradually become absolute. That’s no reason to fear sex any more than other activities involving people. If you have coworkers, you will eventually have a misunderstanding or disagreement. If you play sports, someone will eventually get hurt by accident. Got friends? I’m sure you’ve also had a falling out or argument.

Just like any other activity with people, the very inclusion of people will bump up the odds of being wrong. Life’s not about being perfect around people. It’s about being good enough most of the time and having a helpful response when things go wrong some of the time. The now-standard conversation we have about sexual consent and conversely, the horrible things that should happen to people who violate consent can miss out on this crucial reality of sex: A lot of the hurt that comes from sex is accidental. We don’t just need ways to punish intentional sexual violation. We also need ways to address honest mishaps.

I’ll give you my playbook for sexual mishaps. A ‘mishap’ meaning a very unintentional act that disrupts normal proceedings or makes people unhappy.

• Halt when a signal is given to do so.
• Clear your senses. Turn on the lights, open your eyes, or sharpen your hearing.
• Get safe. Secure any loose apparatus and turn off running machinery.
• Talk to everyone involved. Establish what happened, and how to proceed. Do not ascribe fault at this stage.
• Act on what everyone says should happen next.
• Review and discuss later when heads are clearer and emotions are cool.

If you mostly follow those steps, you have a great playbook for managing mishaps of both a sexual or workshop nature. I kid you not: This procedure is the basis for safety in machine shops and bedrooms alike. All you have to do is remember (most) of those steps and believe in the underlying message about preserving people’s well-being and you’re good to go.

The funny thing about our fear of how not to hurt people during sex is that it loses its hold on us when we treat accidental harm as a given. And we have a plan to confront it. It’s harder to be fearful of something when you know it’ll happen and know how you’ll face it.

I’ve gone on long enough about my passion topics, but I’ll also mention some of your other concerns. Namely what to do and how to do it.

What to do? For you: Be present and aware of your partner. Try to be sober and clear-headed when engaging with someone new. Keep an eye on their body language and responses to your touch and words and let those guide you. When in doubt, ask about their current state and trust their responses.

You’ll notice I didn’t give any hot kissing and cunnilingus tips that’ll drive her mad with lust or anything. That’s because, and I loathe to say this, everyone is different. Your next ‘what to do’ response is to ask them semi-regularly what they want to do and how they want to proceed. Their answer will give you an idea of where the current sexual engagement stands and where it can go next.

How to do it? That really depends on whether you’re still trying to get the first date or are about to get knuckle-deep. Online guides and tips are nice and all, but I’m going to go back to my favorite tools of communication and security. See, you mentioned how you want to practice but don’t know where to start. I won’t burden you with zany techniques and sex acts that might not even happen depending on what your partner likes (please don’t french kiss me). I’ll instead ask for something very actionable: asking how they’re feeling and if they want to change anything.

Try this form of caring communication in non-sexual scenarios. Try it with friends. Try it with gaming buddies (if you do that). Try it with yourself. Get used to asking, “How’re you feeling? Is there anything you want to change?” and then acting on the answer. It’ll make you more aware of people’s needs (including your own) and make you entirely more approachable. I cherish those two questions because they’re universally applicable signs of care that also serve to guide you. Practice on yourself and others outside of the bedroom. So by the time you have sex with someone, you’ll be well-versed in the keystone rules of compassion and communication. The rest will follow naturally with all the ups and downs we can expect from sex.