Tit for Tat: The Transactions of Sex

Why do I always feel like I’m negotiating a deal in the bedroom?

Relationships require some amount of give and take, an inherently transactional cycle that cannot be avoided or denied. In friendships, this can be easy territory to navigate, as the relationship tends to favor an equality between the two people involved.

Sexual relationships, however — particularly heterosexual relationships — are much more challenging to traverse.

Many women — particularly those like me born into Generation X — were raised with the belief that our role in the bedroom is as a supporting player. We’re supposed to earn our partner’s attention by giving — even if that giving is not returned.

It didn’t help that all of the men I’ve been with grew up with similar beliefs to mine, and that they, too, seemed to be engaging in some kind of negotiation in the bedroom.

Over the years, my beliefs about sex evolved, but I still couldn’t shake that feeling of sex being transactional. It didn’t help that all of the men I’ve been with grew up with similar beliefs to mine, and that they, too, seemed to be engaging in some kind of negotiation in the bedroom.

One of my partners kept track of our orgasms over the first few weeks of our relationship, though I didn’t know that until one night, when I was about to come, and he pulled out and masturbated over me, then declared we were done for the night. When I asked why, he said, “You’ve had three more orgasms than I have since we started dating, and I’m not going to give you any more until I catch up.”

Withdrawal (if you’ll excuse the pun).

I thought a guy like this would be an anomaly, but years later, I found myself with someone who also thought it was appropriate to withhold orgasms. I went down on him one night, only to be rushed out the front door as soon as it was over because he said he was worried his roommates would complain about how noisy we were. A few weeks later, I gave him another blow job, in the privacy of my apartment. Afterwards, when I guided his hand between my legs, he pulled away. “If I give you an orgasm,” he explained, “you’ll start to develop feelings for me. I don’t plan on having a relationship with you so it would be cruel to do that to you.”

Withdrawal.

Admittedly, I was being pretty transactional in that moment — I was two orgasms behind, after all — but he had been working his own bargain all along, without telling me the deal. Apparently, giving me pleasure was too big a cost for him to pay and he was more comfortable resting in the cushy profit margins of his own (complimentary) orgasms.

Years later, another boyfriend dodged my requests for a shoulder or foot rub saying he wouldn’t give me a massage unless I’d massage him, first. I always complied, both of us agreeing to twenty minutes each, and I always gave him an extra five minutes because that’s just a kind thing to do. Afterward, he’d crap out on me after the seven minute mark, saying his fingers were getting stiff or he was developing a headache.

Withdrawal.

Then there was the boyfriend who would attend to my needs, doing exactly what I liked, and who encouraged me (both with his actions and words) to come a second time, a third time, a fourth time… In the beginning of our relationship, I’d typically become so exhausted by his pace that I wouldn’t be able to get past three orgasms. Regardless, I couldn’t believe his generosity.

But over time, I learned that he was “buying” his own pleasure through these gestures. Once I had assured him I didn’t need another orgasm, he would flip me over and proceed to maneuver me into a series of different positions, spending the next thirty minutes ceaselessly thrusting into me, only pausing to adjust my leg or turn me over from time to time. Eventually, I would feel so chafed or bruised that I’d beg him to please wrap it up.

…he’d just given me three orgasms and would have been willing to keep going if I hadn’t tired out. Didn’t he deserve to then do what he wanted to me?

Sometimes, the positions he moved me into hurt. But I’d bite my lip, as I’d done so many times before, and endure it because all I could think about was the fact that he’d just given me three orgasms and would have been willing to keep going if I hadn’t tired out. Didn’t he deserve to then do what he wanted to me?

Deposit-deposit-deposit. Withdrawal. Withdrawal. Withdrawal. Withdrawal. Withdrawal. Withdrawwwwwwaaaaaallllllll.

It took me so long to understand the transactional nature of what was happening between us. I had figured it out when a man withheld from me, made me feel like I had to earn (i.e. pay for) love, attention, sexual pleasure.

With this boyfriend, it was different. He was giving me pleasure and attention. But it was a trade. Multiple orgasms for me (in very quick succession, I might add — which wasn’t my preference) in exchange for half an hour of playing out his porn fantasies on and in me.

I don’t know why I didn’t notice it sooner, or why it took so long to understand what was bothering me about it. I wanted us both to be fully engaged in the act, fully present, fully interacting with one another. I didn’t want to feel like someone was throwing orgasms at me like a baseball pitcher on meth, hoping I would catch as many as I could so he could then do whatever he wanted. And I certainly had never imagined I’d have a sexual relationship in which I’d end up lying against the pillows for half an hour, being moved, manipulated, and fucked, all attention to my own pleasure suddenly forgotten.

Ten minutes and three orgasms for me, and thirty minutes and one orgasm for him.

Admittedly, it’s hard not to make sex — or any exchange between people — transactional. We’re all looking out for ourselves, trying to make sure we get our fair share. And hopefully, most of us are looking out for the ones we love, trying to make sure they get their fair share.

But what is a fair exchange in sex? Orgasm for orgasm? Minute for minute?

Is it even possible to make love in a way that fully engages both partners in every moment? Or is it always a seesaw of giving and receiving pleasure?

Even if it’s the latter, I hope my future experiences bring me an abundance of attention (both his and mine) on giving, rather than keeping track of who is receiving what. I get so much pleasure from giving to my partners. And honestly, I’d love to find one who loves to give to me, too.

© Yael Wolfe 2019