What I Didn’t Learn in Sex Ed

The entirety of the sex education I received growing up can be summed up like this:

Sex can lead to pregnancy.
Sex can lead to disease.
Sex is a gift from God.

I always had trouble reconciling the third point with the tone of admonishment of the first two, but I assumed I’d eventually figure it out.

I guess there are limits to what I could have reasonably expected my teachers (and, I suppose, my parents) to teach me about sex, but I — and my eventual partners — would have been much better served with a more well-rounded approach. If I could go back and rewrite the curriculum, I would include the following.

Sex requires consent

It seems hard to imagine now, but the theme of consent — and all it includes about respect, equity, communication, and partnership — was nowhere to be seen during my sex education. My education simply covered the mechanics — and then a little bit on the dynamics of trying to figure out when or if you were ready for sex.

On the playground, kids were admonished for inappropriate contact. But we were never taught that the importance of that lesson applied to the rest of our lives. That there should be no groping on the subway. That copping a feel in a crowd or as someone walks by is not just inappropriate, but a form of assault.

It also would have been incredibly helpful to learn that consent can be withdrawn at any time — that sexual activity is dynamic, not set on a course like a rocket launched into space. That we have to be listening to and responsive to our partners at all times, and that we must both be comfortable throughout any sexual encounter.

We should have been taught that the decision to have sex with someone requires mutual consent, throughout, and that there should be no doubt about whether it exists.

Talking about sex is important

A big part of the consent picture is being able to talk to your partner about sex: Is this what you want to do? Are you comfortable? What do you like and dislike? What can I do to make you feel better, physically and emotionally? What can I ask of you for the same?

Maybe, in addition to a series of lectures on sex, with a handful of videos as aids, my teachers could have facilitated small group conversations with students about sex. Would it have been awkward and clumsy? Of course. But so too are a lot of adult conversations about sex.

The key is to teach young people both the importance of talking about sex and the skills to do it. The goal should be to normalize talking about sex, so that it’s not fraught with fear, anxiety, and discomfort.

So many of our sexual hang-ups could be worked through, so many of our mistakes avoided, if we were better communicators about sex. How many of my relationships would have been better if I’d been more able to talk through issues with my partners? Pretty much all of them.

Sex takes practice

Just like in other areas of our lives, we’ll make mistakes in our sex lives. Say the wrong things, do the wrong things. I wish I had been taught that having a body that’s physically ready to have sex doesn’t mean you’ll automatically know what will make you or your partner feel good. Sex is something that requires experimentation, thought, communication, and yes, trial and error, to get good at.

It would have been helpful and encouraging to know that no one is good at sex right away.

You can practically hear the giggles and snickering comments. Yeah, get good at sex by having more of it. Well, that’s not entirely wrong, if you’re paying attention and trying to improve.

It would have been helpful and encouraging to know that no one is good at sex right away. Young people are familiar with the concept of practice. They study and prepare for tests, they attend lessons for musical instruments, they go to endless practices for soccer, dance, swimming, etc.

It would have been nice to know that sex takes practice, too. That you learn along the way and get better at it over time. Understanding this also would have tempered expectations about our first sexual encounters.

Exploration is a good thing

We all need to know and understand how our bodies work, what we find pleasurable and what we don’t. It’s up to us to know what we like, and to then use our communication skills to get that across to our partners. Masturbation plays a large part of this discovery process, but I’d argue it goes beyond that.

Partnered sex is different in so many ways. The dynamic is completely different, and so too are the physical and psychological sensations. I wish I had understood that one of the greatest joys of sex would be learning what I find exciting and fulfilling, not just for myself, but for my partners too.

This is an ongoing, dynamic process, and our preferences will evolve over time. For example, at the time that I received my sex education, I was of the mindset that I would not have sex until marriage. And that attitude and belief was fine… until I no longer felt that way, for a host of reasons.

We each have a sexual identity, and that identity will evolve.

So, if something isn’t working, try something else. If something sparks your curiosity, experiment (within the parameters of safety and respect). We each have a sexual identity, and that identity will evolve. What we fantasize about at 17 probably won’t be what we fantasize about at 43. Just as our tastes in movies, food, culture, and everything else changes over time, so too will our experience of sex.

And, as we become more aware of our own ever-changing sexual preferences, we must also keep in mind that our partners will have various desires. What worked and was okay with one partner may not be wanted by someone else. We each have our own sexual fingerprint, so to speak, and we must learn to respect and enjoy that.

Sex is not just about genitals

In my sex ed classes, I learned about body parts and how babies are conceived. As such, the totality of sexual intercourse was presented to me as erection, penetration, and ejaculation. This approach left out any semblance of enjoying the lead-up to penetration and also any consideration of my partner’s satisfaction. In terms of reproduction, I suppose I heard what I needed to. But that should have been labeled human reproduction education, not sex education.

True sex education would have included the importance of touch, the existence of foreplay, and the joy of sex as a full-body experience, rather than one just focused on our genitals. By limiting sex ed to the mechanics of reproduction, we not only hide many enjoyable elements about sexual experiences, but we narrow the definition of what sex is and exclude LGBTQ experiences from the curriculum. Oral sex is still sex. Anal sex is still sex. So is mutual masturbation.

Beyond the physical, I wish I had learned about the intense, emotionally bonding component of sex.

Acts like kissing, touching, hugging, and massage should be mentioned, too. Our definition and conception of sex should be expanded to include all the things that make up and are a part of sex, not just penetration.

Beyond the physical, I wish I had learned about the intense, emotionally bonding component of sex. I suppose I got a form of this: When two people love each other, they have sex (as basic as that is). But it would have been better to learn that, when people have sex, they can love each other more and strengthen their bond; that sex can play a crucial role in sustaining relationships. Conveying the emotional significance of sex would have helped explain some of the reasons that people have sex and why it’s so important.

Sex can be pleasurable and fun

In addition to learning about the consequences of sex (like unwanted pregnancy or diseases), it would have been good to learn about how pleasurable and fun it can be. Sex does not have to be something to fear. It’s something to be embraced and enjoyed.

Part of that enjoyment is making sure that the people we are having sex with are enjoying it, too. My teachers could have explained, for example, that men and women experience sexual pleasure in different ways; that our orgasms are different, but no less important. That we need to be respectful of our partner’s satisfaction.

Perhaps we wouldn’t have an orgasm gap if we’d been taught as young people about the differences in sexual pleasure between men and women. Instead of trying to figure it out as adults, we could have learned early on about the realities of sexual pleasure, and how important pleasure equity is. Teaching sex ed without noting these differences is like teaching someone to drive without pointing out the rearview and side-view mirrors.

As young people learn more about their bodies, and develop (and act on) their curiosities, they need to better understand their own bodies and sexual interests. They also need to take their partners’ needs, desires, and wants as seriously as their own. Most of all, they should understand that sex can be a beautiful, wonderful, fun thing.

In some respects, that would be a great place to start.

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This post was previously published on Human Parts and is republished here with permission from the author.
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