How We Define Sex & Why That’s Important

What is sex and why are we still asking that question?

“I don’t know if I’m ready to date yet,” my friend Sunny recently told me. “I don’t want to lose myself again. But I have to admit, this is hard. I’ve never been celibate for so long.”

Of all my friends, Sunny knows the most about how blogging on sex has affected my life, so I feel very free to speak openly with her about the subject. “Aren’t you masturbating? Isn’t that sex?”

She tilted her head in consideration. “You know, I never thought of it that way. I guess so.”

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I’m the kind of person who takes a long breather between relationships — I’m talking several years — and as such, I’m used to going through what some people would call “dry spells.” I used to make jokes about it, in fact — cracks about how long it’s been since I’ve had sex, how desperate I am for a good penis. It helps to ease the tension of feeling like a loser in a society that so often correlates sexual activity with one’s worthiness.

This past year, however, I’ve challenged myself to stop joking about it. There’s nothing wrong with me or anyone else who needs to take some time between relationships. It’s okay to go through periods of time without experiencing sex with another person (or people).

Not having sex with another person does not make me celibate. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a sex life — or a good sex life, for that matter. In fact, I’m quite proud of the fact that I’ve become dedicated to my sexual fulfillment this year — even without a partner.

I’m so over the notion that masturbation is second-class sex or not sex at all. What utter bullshit. It’s a sexual experience that can lead to orgasm (sometimes really, really good orgasms). So what’s the problem? Because we’re alone, it doesn’t count?

Again, bullshit. That’s just a reflection of our culture that fetishizes romantic relationships. The message we learn is that nothing is real except for what happens in a relationship. Pleasure through masturbation isn’t “real” sex when we’re single. Interestingly, it is when we’re doing it for a partner.

Doesn’t that say it all?

I think our definitions of sex can be incredibly damaging. Many of us were taught the hetero-normative idea that sex is penis-in-vagina intercourse. Sure, if you’re talking about human reproduction, then I’ll accept that definition. But beyond that is so much more.

For years, I didn’t consider my experience with my musician lover as sex. Why? Because he never put his penis inside my vagina. Because I never had an orgasm with him (he made sure of that).

Looking back, I think how absurd it is that I wouldn’t define him ejaculating into my mouth as sex. I also see the damage that kind of mindset inflicts on a person. It trivialized our experience — no my experience. It made me feel like a blow job was barely as intimate as a hug, that it wasn’t a big deal, and that I didn’t deserve to have more — more pleasure for me, more intimacy for me, more care for me. It was playing into the sexist dynamics that had dominated my high school experience — that it wasn’t a big deal to go down on a man and that a woman shouldn’t have sexual expectations.

Then there was the vow my last partner and I made when we started dating. We wanted to take things slowly and wait a couple weeks before we had sex. We had so much fun planning for the big night — choosing the date, deciding the location, picking out what I would wear…

Despite all our plans, all our intentions to be clear-headed and take our time, on our fourth date, he put his hand down my pants and we spent the next two weeks getting each other off with our fingers.

A few days before our first sleepover, I looked at him and said, “Why did we make such a big deal about our first time together and trying to wait? Haven’t we been having sex this whole time?”

“No,” he insisted, looking genuinely bewildered. “Hands don’t count.”

We talked for a while about it, both of us realizing that yes, we’d been having sex that entire time, yes, using your hands counts, yes, we’d already had our first time together and hadn’t even noticed.

I was yet again perplexed. Why did it feel so hard to define sex? What were all these ridiculous, arbitrary rules and qualifiers?

And shall we dive into foreplay? The older I get, the more I hate that word. It creates a false sense of separation between the actions that fall into the category of foreplay and “actual sex.”

But isn’t foreplay part of sex? I mean, seriously… Do you suck on your friend’s nipples or stroke their thighs? I’m guessing that behavior is reserved for your sexual partners, which makes it part of the sexual experience, which makes it sex.

While I appreciate what I think the intention was behind the emergence of the term “foreplay,” I’m not so sure we need it, anymore. Today, I find it more reductive than helpful. It’s a little hetero-centric, for one thing, and in today’s world, it almost feels like a set of hoops for a man to jump through in order to get to where he wants to be: in the honeypot.

Can’t we just have the expectation that sex is often a slow build-up of touch and sensation that is mutually enjoyed by all parties? Do we have to define those activities by their relationship to other aspects of the sexual experience?

So what is sex? The truth is, I’m still not entirely sure how to define it.

I know that the traditional definitions don’t always apply. For instance, sex (real, actual sex) doesn't necessarily:

• Involve orgasm
• Involve penetration of the mouth, anus, or vagina
• Include more than one person
• Satisfy all parties (unfortunately…you know, shit happens)

I think sex can be the good morning kiss that stokes your fire and leads to a tumble across the mattress later that night. Sex can be the pizza he brought home knowing how tired his partner would be after a long day…and that leads to some intimate cuddling that evening. Sex can be the text message she sent to give her partner a boost…that later turned into passionate kisses in the shower.

And yes, sex is a blow job, whether or not the pleasure was reciprocated. Yes, sex is using hands to make our partners come. And for fuck’s sake, yes, sex is masturbation!

I think the way we label sex illustrates the arbitrary rules and limits we put on ourselves around our sexuality. I think we sometimes fail to notice the sexual fulfillment that we might already be experiencing because it doesn’t come in the “package” we’ve defined as sex (i.e. the false belief that masturbation isn’t as fulfilling as sex with a partner).

I think we also fail to respect ourselves and each other when we downgrade certain sexual activities as something other than sex just because it doesn’t fit our definition. Next thing you know, we’re giving out blow jobs without any thought to our own pleasure, because it doesn’t really matter, right? It’s not actually sex.

I think it’s long past time to let go of the traditional definitions of sex and to throw all these arbitrary rules and boundaries into the garbage. I think sexual engagement of any kind is sex and deserves to be defined as such.

Anything less dishonors the act. And it dishonors those engaging in it.

© Yael Wolfe 2019