Evolving Our Sexual Lexicon

Are the words and phrases we use reflecting our changing perspectives on sexuality?

In 2019, I learned more about sexuality — even my own — than I have, perhaps, in my entire adult life. I have, I’m sorry to say, too often felt oppressed by shame and as such, I kept my sexuality strictly controlled and quiet. I also cycled through long periods of time in which I’d distance myself from my sexuality or box it away, entirely, when I felt out of control or afraid.

There’s something about the forties, though… It’s a life-changing threshold to cross. Suddenly, you discover that there’s no more time to hide who you are or what you want. Suddenly, you find your mind opens and you’re filled with curiosity — about yourself, about others, about life.

As I began to talk more openly about my sexuality and to listen to others’ experiences, I’ve discovered that there are still a few things that are hanging around the lexicon — phrases and words that I’m not sure should be welcome anymore.

As my perspective opens, I want my language to reflect that. As such, these are the terms I want to leave behind, especially as we stand on the precipice of a new decade:

Vanilla

I used this word to describe my sexual bucket list because, let’s face it, it’s pretty basic. I’d guess most people tick these off their lists pretty early in life. When I wrote it, I felt somewhat embarrassed by that fact and somehow calling my sexual preferences “vanilla” made me feel less vulnerable.

Since then, I’ve discussed that term with many readers, expressing my regret at using it. Vanilla has a vaguely negative connotation — it’s basically a cute and seemingly harmless pejorative.

But I don’t want even the tiniest hint of judgment around my sex life or anyone else’s. It doesn’t belong there. We shouldn’t judge ourselves for our sexual preferences, especially due to any cultural pressure we might feel to be edgy and avant-garde.

So what if I don’t want to have a threesome or take it up the ass or let someone fist me? That doesn’t make me or anyone else vanilla. We all have our unique sets of kinks and fetishes and desires. They might not mesh with the current sex trends, but so what?

I don’t want to speak in ways that perpetuate our tendency to judge our own or others’ sexual proclivities.

Friend Zone

I’ve always hated this phrase. We tend to use it to indicate a sense of victimization when someone is firmly defined as a friend by the object of their attraction. In other words, it’s label of woe often used by those who are experiencing the pain or frustration of unrequited love.

Here’s my problem with it: The way people use it often stems from a place of entitlement. It’s as if we feel that if we love someone, they ought to love us back. We can’t fathom that we’d have such strong feelings for someone who doesn’t return those feelings.

I understand that. We’ve all loved someone who didn’t love us back. It happens all the time and it hurts like hell.

But to expect that love to be returned isn’t reasonable. To be angry or bitter demonstrates an entitlement that we should not feel. And something about this phrase dances a little too closely to that line of forced consent for my taste.

In today’s world, it’s more important than ever for us to model an acceptance of another person’s boundaries — which maybe means getting rid of the phrase “friend zone,” or at least using it in a more responsible manner. We need to demonstrate that there’s no room for entitlement in love and sex.

Foreplay

I’ve been less and less in love with this word as I’ve gotten older. It feels so hetero-centric to me, as if the act of sex is only penis-in-vagina penetration.

It also feels vaguely transactional to me, as if it’s something a man has to perform in order to gain access to his partner’s vagina.

To me, what we define as foreplay is part of the sexual act. Sex includes having my nipples licked and sucked, sex includes biting at my neck, sex includes touching and stroking my legs and arms and ass.

I understand how this word can be helpful in defining the fact that sex often unfolds in stages (warming up, contact with erogenous zones, genital stimulation, orgasm, cooling down, etc.), but it still comes with too much baggage for me. I’d love to see us come up with new words and phrases to describe sexual activity that are more open-minded and inclusive.

I’m gonna make you come

I particularly hate this phrase when uttered by a man to a woman. It feels so domineering to me.

I feel lucky that I’ve never heard this from a lover — if I had, I can assure you, it would make my orgasm skitter away into the ether, lost for good.

I don’t want to be “made” to do anything, have anything, take anything, or experience anything. Because of the issues I have had in my past, that language is a complete turn-off.

I’ve written before that my last partner knew just what to say to turn me on: I want you to come for me. That simple adjustment in language makes all the difference for me. Phrased in such a way, it made me feel like my orgasm was a gift to him — and that I was in control of giving it to him.

Just hearing him say that often brought me to orgasm.

As I continue to learn and grow, I want to be very careful about how I speak about sex — not just to readers and friends, but to partners, and even to myself. The words that we use are so powerful — they can perpetuate stereotypes, embolden shame, and fan the fires of sexism.

I want, instead, to be free and to free others. And sometimes, liberation starts with something as simple as the words we use.

© Yael Wolfe 2019