Hot Take: Sex Isn’t “Special”

Purity culture just taught us it should be. #TransparentTuesday

Hi friend,

Hot take: sex isn’t “special.”

Now hear me out, because I’m not telling you what sex is (or should be) for you. 

I’m just asking that together we examine and dismantle a bit of a sacred cow: the belief that sex is (or should be) special.

Years ago, a client was telling me about an intimate experience in which she participated in certain sexual activities but drew the line at participating in others, and when I asked why, she seemed genuinely confused that I even had to ask.

“Well because sex is special,” she said, “so I don’t want to have it with just anyone.”

As most of us learned to do, she was defining “sex” in that moment as “a penis enters a vagina,” which is arbitrary and problematic of course—since if queer sex still “counts” as sex, then why shouldn’t those activities count as sex when they’re between cisgender men and women?—but let’s set that aside for a moment.

I asked her what she meant by “special,” and the conversation really stuck with me because of how frustrated she got while trying to put into words why this one particular sex act was so much more important than all the other ones, and why this one type of sex should only be shared with certain people, while the others could be shared more casually. 

I wasn’t trying to make a point of any kind that day, either. I was genuinely just curious how

she drew her lines around which types of intimacy were important and meaningful, and which weren’t. 

She ended up getting kind of mad at me though, because in her mind the answer was absolutely obvious, objective, and factual. 

“You know what I mean,” she insisted at one point.  “Like, real sex is a bigger deal! It just is!!”

I’ve never forgotten this moment— the look on her face, like she was about to cry. My realization that I needed to pull back and pivot, because this wasn’t a fruitful direction. And my absolute certainty that she was wrong. 

I’ve had many similar conversations with clients and friends about sexuality over the years, and asked many different people of many different backgrounds and belief systems to explain both why they held certain sex acts as more special or important than others, and also why they believed that sex more generally is, in and of itself, special and important. 

To be honest, I’ve never gotten an answer that made sense to me. 

I’ve gotten plenty of answers that made sense to me for that one specific person, of course, and I fully respect that individuals get to believe in whatever they like, and decide what’s best and right for them regarding sex and everything else they do with their bodies. 

But I’ve never gotten an answer that makes me believe sex itself is somehow inherently special or important. 

If you want sex to be special, for example, that’s fine! You can absolutely make the decision for yourself that being physically intimate means something specific about you, or the other person, or your relationship. As long as you communicate that clearly to the other person and there is mutual consent to these expectations and interpretations, it’s all fair game.

But the problem is that it does have to be communicated, because everyone comes to sex with different interpretations and expectations… because sex itself actually doesn’t have any inherent meaning.

Sex is morally neutral, so as long as it’s enthusiastically consented to, there’s no such thing as a moral hierarchy or ranking system about the “types of sex” you have, the specific activities you engage in during sex, or the emotional connection present for it. 

To be honest, I’m surprised sometimes how uncurious people tend to be about this topic, taking for granted that of course sex is or should be special, and that of course penis-in-vagina sex is more of a big deal than other types of sex. Purity culture has done an absolutely bang-up job (pun intended) indoctrinating people into its belief system, and these are some seriously well-protected beliefs. 

But I want you to really think about it with me for a minute.

Why, exactly, would sex be so much more special and important than other activities or types of intimacies that we have to be careful who (or how many people) we do it with? And how strange it would be to apply this same logic to other enjoyable or intimate human experiences?

Imagine saying something like "I’m super careful about who I shake hands with, because I want shaking hands to stay special,” or, "I don't eat pizza unless it really means something. I don't want pizza to become casual."

I mean, you certainly could feel that way, but I would immediately have a lot of questions about the meaning and significance you were layering on top of handshakes and pizza. 

There really aren’t any other experiences that we treat this way, protecting them from happening too often or with too many people in order to keep them “special,” and so that they don’t feel “meaningless.” That’s because we understand intuitively that most experiences don't become less worthy, valid, or good simply because we engage in them frequently, casually, or under a variety of circumstances.

So then why do we view sex this way? What is it about sex specifically that makes us want to protect it and keep it special?

And let’s also take a moment to examine how this word—“special”—is functioning like a thought-terminating cliche here, which should ring some alarm bells.

Saying "I just want sex to be special" sounds like a personal preference, which means it’s sort of above examination or curiosity, and can’t be challenged. And while sometimes it is truly and genuinely just a personal preference, I think a lot of times it’s just purity culture, dressed up in softer clothes.

The older, harsher, and more religious version of purity culture teaches that sex makes you dirty, bad, sinful, impure, used up, or less valuable. The modern secularized version, on the other hand, tends to sound a lot more chill and positive—it says sex is just so meaningful that you have to be careful not to “cheapen it.”

Same idea, different packaging. 

It’s just a friendlier-sounding way of pushing people toward a “save yourself for marriage” kind of mindset by teaching them that sex has a huge amount of spiritual power and moral significance, and engaging in it the wrong way will have major consequences on the kind of person you are, and the kind of life you deserve.

But the truth is that all the spiritual power and moral significance we associate with sex is subjective and imagined. 

Sex can be meaningful and special. It can be emotionally connective and spiritually fulfilling.

It can be a container for personal growth and healing, and it can even be sacred. 

Sex can also just be fun.

It doesn’t always need to be magical, or empowering, or serious, or even memorable to be good or valid or worth having.

Sometimes sex can just be for pleasure, or release, or curiosity. It can be silly and pointless. It can be scheduled in advance and done by rote while absolutely exhausted. It can be experimental and awkward. 

It can turn out that you don’t actually like that thing you tried after all, and the sex can end with nobody having had an orgasm, and it can still have been good and valid and worth having. 

That's the part that really drives me nuts when we talk about "keeping sex special." We act as though ordinary sex contaminates extraordinary sex. But why would it?

I've had conversations that changed my life, and I've had conversations about what kind of

toilet paper to buy. The existence of the latter doesn’t make the former any less meaningful.

Human experiences will naturally have different depths, and sex doesn’t need to be deep to be good or worthy.

Now, if you want sex to only happen only within love, commitment, marriage, emotional intimacy, or any other particular context, that's totally fine. But I would still invite some open-minded curiosity around why, so that you can differentiate between internalized oppression and authentic desire. 

What does “special” mean to you, and what are you afraid would happen if you had sex that was “meaningless?” Where do these beliefs come from, and how have they been influenced

by purity culture? And most importantly, how does this view of sex actually impact you? 

Does it help you feel more or less free, calm, authentic, fulfilled, brave, connected, present, and happy? Does it positively or negatively impact the way you see/judge yourself, or see/judge others? Does it lead to more or less pleasure and joy?

To be clear, I am absolutely not here to tell anyone what kind of sex they should have, or how to feel about it. 

But I am here to shine a light on the ways in which oppressive systems like purity culture are getting in the way of our wholeness and happiness, and invite everyone to get curious about how they’ve been impacted, so that we can all feel more whole, authentic, and free. 

Wanna share your thoughts? Hit reply and let me know what came up for you while reading!

Big hug,

Jessi

PS. Are you looking for any support or coaching around sex or pleasure? I’d love to help, just hit reply or apply for coaching with me here!