Why I Insist on Talking About My Partner’s Sexual History

It’s for a much hotter reason than you think…

When I was in my early thirties and starting a new relationship, several of my friends found themselves in a similar situation — starting fresh with a new partner.

It was interesting to see all our different rituals for beginning these new relationships. There were a lot of cleansing rituals — people asking their significant others to delete photos of old lovers off their social media accounts, discussing whether or not they should still be in contact with exes, getting rid of old items from past girlfriends or boyfriends.

There are lots of things at play in these early-relationship rituals. For instance, how the relationship with the ex ended. What their relationship is now. Whether or not the new partner is struggling with insecurity. The length of the past relationship. Whether or not kids were involved.

Of course, there’s no one right way to do this. It’s up to every couple to figure out how to clear space for their new connection.

There is one thing, however, that seemed to be routinely off the table within my circle of friends — hearing any details about their new partners’ past sex lives.

In some instances, I get this. If the new partner had kids with the ex making the ex a regular part of the couple’s life, that might feel weird. If there was abuse or a messy ending, the sex stories might be associated with trauma.

But in general, I’m a big fan of diving deeply into an ex’s sexual history. I’m fascinated by people’s sex lives. I want to know everything.

And if it’s someone I haven’t yet slept with or have just started sleeping with…then you can bet this is need-to-know information.

My last partner and I inexplicably wanted to take things slowly. I can’t really explain this — I hadn’t had sex in a long time and was pretty hard up, but I think I was very nervous about our age difference and frankly, just the act of taking off my clothes in front of another human being again terrified me.

What did we do in the meantime? Mostly, we spent hours furiously making out with our hands down each other’s pants and…we talked about his sexual history.

I asked him as soon as I felt sure that I wanted to sleep with him.

“Tell me about your past lovers.”

He took this as the standard, Let’s have a talk about safe sex opening and gamely but dispassionately named his former girlfriends and one night stands.

“No,” I said. “I mean, what did you guys do together?”

He looked at me, puzzled. “What, like the sex?”

“Yeah.” I put my hand on his arm, already getting turned on. “How did it go down? Who initiated it? What kinds of things did you do?”

“Why do you want to know that?” he asked, suspiciously. “I don’t want to hear what other guys have done to you.”

“I don’t mind telling you,” I said, in a low voice, moving my hand southward.

He wrinkled his nose — at my words, not my gesture. (Just to be clear.) “I don’t want to think about you with other guys.”

He didn’t get it, I could see. He didn’t understand how completely, overwhelmingly hot it is to be an imaginative voyeur, listening to your partner’s sexual adventures and knowing that you’re about to join in the story.

I’m not sure I can fully explain this…would you call it a fetish? How about arousing fixation of curiosity? I don’t have any friends who understand this. Like my ex, they didn’t want to imagine their new lovers having sex with someone else.

I didn’t enjoy it in my twenties, but in my thirties, it became a fun game. I no longer felt that twinge of jealousy — why would I? If my partner and his ex had physical or emotional compatibility left, they would still be together. And I was surely not so naïve as to think that my relationship with my ex was any more special or meaningful than any of the other relationships he’d had.

Without the weight of jealousy, I could indulge freely.

I love hearing about people’s sex lives. Is that weird? I can’t help it. That aspect of my fixation is purely curiosity. I want to know more about pleasure, love, connection, intimacy, and yes, even things people do that I’ve maybe never heard of. I love adding these stories to my mental files — something to write about later.

When it comes to someone I’m attracted to, there’s another level to this. I find it incredibly erotic to hear how a new lover tells a sexy story (because as Ena Dahl says, sex is about good storytelling). You can learn so much about a person from hearing their sex stories — what do they like, what do they value, how do they treat women, etc. It’s a very efficient way to become more familiar with a new lover.

Best of all, I loved to hear all the smutty details of what they’d done to past lovers. I love to picture every second of it — yes, with the former lover, not replacing her with my image. It almost feels indecent, like watching someone’s sex tapes.

And of course, these stories get me all worked up and breathless just thinking about the things a new partner will do to me someday.

One late summer afternoon, my partner and I met at my parents’ house for a family birthday party. No one else had arrived yet. I pulled my partner outside and asked him to take a walk with me so we could have a little time alone together before the guests arrived.

As we headed down the street, I asked him to tell me about his last girlfriend, a young woman named Christina. What was the most exciting sex they had had together, I wanted to know.

He laughed a little. It still perplexed him that I asked these questions so persistently when he emphatically did not want to hear about my own history. (Missed opportunity there, in my opinion…) But by then, he was used to my pervy prying.

He told me about a shower they took together and that it was very sexy and mostly lived up to his fantasy.

I was holding his hand and I tugged on it. “No, I mean, what did you do? Did you cover her breasts with soap and slide your hands all over them? Did you kiss? How did you actually do it? Face-to-face with her leaning on the grab bar or did you bend her over and do it from behind? Did she come? Did she make noises?”

Again he laughed, but I could see he was getting flustered.

He finally explained the entire encounter in detail — yes, there was soap involved, and yes he slid it around her nipples, yes there was a lot of tongue, yes he bent her over, yes she came, no she hardly made a peep except for breathing really loudly and deeply during her orgasm.

Oh my god. I’m getting turned on just writing this. See? I told you.

He never really got over how strange he thought it was that I got so horny for his sex stories. But I’m telling you, it’s legit foreplay (though you know I hate that word).

If you don’t believe me, please reference the fact that when we returned to my parents’ house, we ducked away into the pantry for a few minutes of heated kisses, which might have at least culminated with his finger inside me if he hadn’t pushed me so hard against the shelf, making all the cans of food rattle and my mother come running, thinking the dogs had gotten into the box of crackers and chocolate chips.

We were able to compose ourselves just in time, but only barely.

Because, I promise you, talking about your ex’s sexual adventures in scandalous detail will make you hot as fuck.

This article was written for Howl by Yael Wolfe, a weekly column. © Yael Wolfe 2020

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