My relationship with sex has slowly evolved over the past 10 or so years. Before that, I just did what someone else wanted regardless of how I felt about it, which was soul-sucking and traumatic at the very least
Now that I have asserted complete ownership over my body, what I do with it, and who I do it with, I decided to take on an experiment of having sex every day for a week. I considered trying it for a month, but conflicting and busy schedules would have made it impossible.
Having sex for a week seems like a simple activity that wouldn’t require much effort, but I was surprised by what I discovered as we pushed toward the end of the week. Keep reading for a full breakdown of what I learned.
No problems here. It was the first day, and we were ready to take on the challenge. On day one, I didn’t learn much beyond the fact that sex is fun and so are sex challenges.
Some discussion happened on the night before day two that went a little like this: “So, what time do you want to have sex tomorrow? Oh, after dinner sounds great.” There was still excitement there, but it didn’t feel as spontaneous as the first day. Because it wasn’t. Day two taught me that it’s absolutely OK to schedule sex, especially if you have busy lives. It’s better to schedule sex than not have it at all.
“So I guess we need to do this thing. You ready?” Everyone undresses anticlimactically and climbs into bed, but we spent a good amount of time cuddling, stopping, going, watching a movie that was extremely interrupted, and connecting with each other. I learned on day three that intimacy and connection can be just as or even more powerful than the actual act of sex. When we connected and slowed down, even without all the frills of the “chase,” we wanted each other just as much, while stripping away all of the extra to-dos that can often accompany the rituals of sex.
It’s amazing how quickly the excitement fizzles when you start having sex because you’re accepting a challenge as opposed to it feeling like a spontaneous, hot event. We got lazy this night and brought out some toys to ensure a climax with the least amount of effort on our part. We lasted around 10 minutes. Good times.
Day four taught me the value of perseverance . . . just kidding. Day four showed me that it’s easy to lose some of the eroticism with your partner when you stop trying. As with any relationship, there’s often a fine balance between eroticism and security. If you lean too far one way, you can lose some of the other. We decided we needed to up our game if we wanted to keep this fun rather than a chore. Sex feeling like a chore can eventually lead to resentments and damage to the relationship, not necessarily during a one-week challenge but if it’s a continuous experience.
I was shocked by how unexciting and unappealing having sex sounded by this point. I thought I loved sex! I know I love sex. I thought I loved my partner! I know I love my partner. What the heck was going on? We decided to get a little more creative here, otherwise it wasn’t going to happen. I wore my laciest black panties, sent a few risque photographs throughout the day, and walked in on my partner getting settled after a long day of work wearing nothing but those little lacies. Then I climbed on their lap and told them exactly where I wanted their hands and mouth. Needless to say, day five injected a little of that spark back into something that had turned monotonous as opposed to passionate.
I learned the power of my voice on day five. As someone who struggles to assertively say what they want, this was great practice for advocating for my own wants and needs. It was surprising to my partner as well, which added some heat to the potentially lukewarm hump-day of this one-week challenge (pun intended). It’s definitely a turn-on — and very helpful — when you or your partner voice exactly what you want when having sex and even when you’re not.
I left day six up to my partner. I had taken the reins the day before, and now it was their turn. Restraints and some spanking might have been involved — with consent, of course. And the growl of wanting had returned. We were approaching the end of the challenge, and there was a tiny bit of relief in that. Sex is fun. A lot of sex is fun. But there’s something to be said for being a little less available. I want to be able to voice when I want to have sex with my partner, and I love when they reciprocate. But committing to a challenge like this feels like it takes away some of that power to say, “Not today” (we would absolutely say, “Not today,” if we felt uncomfortable with it for any reason), which takes away some of the passion in the experience.
Our schedules had caught up with us at this point. We both had engagements that night and wouldn’t be seeing each other. As we took a drive during our lunch break together, I was surprised to see the car pulling around behind the back of a building right in the middle of the city. “What are we doing?” I asked. A hand slipped inside the front of my pants in response.
Sex can be such an empowering experience. It’s been a long road of healing and recovery on my sexual journey, but I wouldn’t have learned what I’ve learned along the way without those experiences. I’ve learned that my voice matters, that I can advocate for my needs, that I can say no, that I can initiate sex, and that intimacy and connection don’t have to be a scary place to be.