Why No One Has Less Sexual Freedom Than Heterosexual Men

Men might have more privilege, but they aren’t free in the bedroom

Like many women, my sexual experiences were awful for the entire decade of my twenties. If I had an orgasm, it was because I made it happen — not because I had a thoughtful lover who cared about my pleasure. And the only way I could make that happen was with subtle cues or the careful manipulation of my own body against theirs.

You see, I couldn’t express my desires to a lover. I was taught that that was downright perverse. Men could do that. But not women.

I was scared to speak up. I was scared that one wrong angle might make me look fat and unattractive. I was scared to show how much I was enjoying myself. I was scared to enjoy myself too much. I felt like I would never be able to fully inhabit my own sexuality simply because I was a woman.

Meanwhile, my first lover, who was also a virgin, was flipping himself from one side of the mattress to the other with no thought about whether he looked sexy or not, grabbing whatever part of my body he wanted, and sticking parts of his body wherever he wanted.

He knew exactly what he desired and he either made a move to get it or directed me to give it to him.

Looking back from where I stand in middle age, I never slept with a man who didn’t behave this way in the bedroom.

And bravo! That’s wonderful and I’m thrilled for anyone who can take their own sexual fulfillment that seriously.

But what about me?

“I just got luckier than you,” my first boyfriend told me when I tried to talk to him about this matter. “I was born a man. Men love sex and aren’t afraid to go for it.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, but I was young enough to believe him. Apparently, men were just the lucky ones when it came to sex.

This wasn’t the first time I heard this sentiment and it wouldn’t be the last. Over the years, men’s sexual appetite, curiosity, desire, confidence, and creativity were lauded as if a beloved myth was being retold again and again.

It was no Jack and the Beanstalk or Lord of the Rings…but it was close. Lord of the Bedroom, perhaps?

Remember the fumbling cater waiter from Love Actually who decides to go to America to finally realize his sexual dreams? “I am Colin, God of Sex,” he proclaims — because he knows this story, too.

Men had it all, I was convinced. They got the better paychecks (thanks, wage gap!), they were the only ones allowed to be president, and goddammit, they got all the privilege in the bedroom.

They could say and do whatever they wanted without shame. They could have an orgasm in 48 seconds if they wanted and never had an “off night.” They could have sex whenever they wanted, even when their partner didn’t want to. They could even go find a secondary, secret partner if things weren’t going the way they desired in their relationship.

They had all the pleasure, all the power, everything we all want in our sex lives.

For a long, long time, I thought I’d always be doomed to a half-life in the bedroom. Because I’m a woman, and as the legend says, we’re just here to serve the gods and lords, and hope to eke out an orgasm or two along the way.

You know what’s so interesting about stories and legends? It’s that sometimes, we think up a really good yarn and it becomes so beloved that it takes on a life of its own…even when it’s not true.

Remember Dorothy going through all those trials just to find the Wizard of Oz? This fabled figure who would solve all her problems?

As it turned out, the wizard wasn’t anyone special, at all. Just a dude behind a curtain putting on a wicked cool special effects show.

And you know what? This legend about men being the gods of sex and ruling the bedroom is just that…a story. It’s not true. Look behind the curtain.

It’s so not true that I discovered I’ve gotten the whole thing backwards.

Women are the ones who’ve had it better all along.

If I asked you to name the demographic with the least potential for sexual fulfillment, the most constrained in sexual creativity, and the most discouraged in sexual curiosity, who would you name?

I know my answer: heterosexual men.

While I won’t argue with you that hetero men have the most sexual privilege in the general sense of the word, these poor dudes do not have as much power, creativity, or freedom as we say they do.

For one thing, heterosexuality in a patriarchal culture is a very, very tiny box — especially male heterosexuality. Heterosexual women can experiment with same-sex encounters and sexually fantasize about other women and that’s considered “normal” (whatever that means) and even hot. But a heterosexual man going anywhere near another man or even thoughts of another man? Male heterosexuality is literally boxed in on all four sides by our culture’s extreme homophobia, which keeps men in a very tight space.

And look at porn. Je-sus, could it be any more boring? I almost never watch it because it’s so formulaic, it often deflates my boner. Most of it, even those made by female-run companies, are made for male audiences, which means it represents what men want…or perhaps, what men are taught to want. Cowgirl, doggy-style, from behind on their sides, and repeat. Maybe throw in a little reverse cowgirl and missionary, and definitely a blow job and you got yourself a nice little routine. It’s like a recipe or painstakingly practiced choreography, and I know a lot of men who act it out in the bedroom scene by scene — especially younger generations who were raised with internet porn in the place of sex education.

And of course, we can’t have feelings involved in sex if a heterosexual man isn’t ready to settle down. Unless he’s heading into the marriage market, everything has to be completely free of emotion, stripped down to the purely physical act of fucking. No eye contact, please! That’s too “feely.”

No, no, no, no. It’s all been a lie.

Here’s the truth: Our stories about male heterosexuality are nothing more than pulp fiction.

Rest assured, this is no condemnation of heterosexual men and how they behave in the bedroom. As far as I’m concerned, men were conditioned into this space and I think it has shortchanged them and everyone they sleep with.

As I get older, I understand more and more the sexual power that women have. We might not have the privilege, but my god, we are creative, expansive, infinite sexual beings. We know there is more to sex than orgasm. We long for its layers and complexities — emotional and otherwise. We know how to shift and flow during sex. And we have an endless capacity for erotic self-realization.

I want this for men, too. And frankly, my desire is entirely selfish.

I want to have sex with a man who isn’t afraid to ask me to suck his nipples without having to give me the disclaimer, “I’m not gay, though.” I want to have sex with a man who isn’t afraid to let me pound him into the mattress. I want to have sex with a man who doesn’t treat me like a series of buttons to push in order to get me to orgasm, as if he read it from a manual. I want to have sex with a man whose top priority isn’t that orgasm — neither his nor mine.

I want to have sex with a man who tells me about his fantasies of sexual encounters with other men. (You know you’ve thought about it once or twice...) I want to have sex with a man who loves to wrestle and play, and isn’t on a schedule in the bedroom so he can get back to his work emails. I want to have sex with a man who can’t stop thinking of fun new things to try and who has thrown out all the moves he learned from porn.

I want to have sex with a man who doesn’t need me, or anyone, for his own sexual fulfillment.

In short, I want to have sex with a man who is as sexually free as I am. And I haven’t met a lot of men that fit that description, thanks to a culture that hammers them firmly into tiny boxes.

So it’s time we stop telling this story about men standing at the top of the sexual hierarchy. That’s true as far as general privilege goes, but I’d say they are at the very bottom when it comes to most everything else in the bedroom.

How do we make this a more even playing field so that heterosexual men can enjoy as much sexual freedom as the rest of us?

I think I know…and you probably do, too…

© Yael Wolfe 2023

Yael Wolfe is a writer, photographer, and creator of Howl. You can find more of her work at yaelwolfe.com.

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