When women say they hate sex, every time it is the partner who is blamed for forcing the rapprochement.
This text has been auto-translated from Polish.
Where does women's aversion or even hatred of sex come from? When I asked if anyone would like to share their aversion to sex through agonizing efforts to get pregnant, or through endometriosis, adiposity or vulvodynia causing pain during intercourse, quite a few people came forward. In all the heroines I spoke with, however, regardless of the medical background, the actual cause lay somewhere else entirely. The same every time: disrespect for boundaries, pain and resentment, humiliation by sexuality and taking control away from partners. That is, sexual violence.
Endometriosis is a chronic, incurable disease in which endometrium-like tissues stick to organs, impeding their function. It often causes powerful waves of pain - during menstruation, ovulation, but also after bowel movements or during intercourse. Between 10 and as many as 30 percent of all women suffer from it, and it takes an average of 8-12 years to be diagnosed. Vulvodynia, on the other hand, manifests as chronic pain in the intimate area, including during intercourse, a visit to the gynecologist or tampon application.
The women I spoke with have many of these symptoms. But their hatred of sex comes from the violence they experience when the abuser continues despite the pain and lack of consent. It's not endometriosis or vulvodynia that hurt - it's the people who belittle them or push our limits despite the pain, citing "duty" in the relationship or claiming that the victim is "overreacting" or "provoking." And that, after all, "she wants it herself."
"It's not the sex that I hate - I hate the fact that someone once made me believe that he was entitled to this sex from me," says one of my interviewees. - says one of my interviewees. I've often heard from them that "hate" is too strong a word. But they are not fond of sex because he was never theirs.
I had to drink alcohol to go to bed, otherwise I couldn't handle it
I don't know if I'm up to it. I am not fond of sex. Hate is perhaps too strong a word. I have mild pain during intercourse, ignored by doctors for years. And I have a history of a violent relationship.
Sex has never been a great pleasure for me, rather it seemed to me that since everyone else was doing it, I just should too. I'm 38 years old, have a retroverted uterus, and am only now being diagnosed with endometriosis - after years of suffering horribly during my period, and years of hearing from doctors that "it's just the way I am" or that it will pass me by when I have a baby.
I don't have children and won't have them, because I don't want to, and sex was associated with more or less pain. I had great partners, who usually tried their best not to make it hurt. However, it hurt every time, so I clenched my teeth and pretended it was ok so they wouldn't feel rejected. Today I know that this was idiocy.
About 10 years ago I fell very much in love. Sex became part of the punishment and reward system and a way of shaming me. When I was "polite," the comments were non-existent. As soon as I did something wrong, the dung on me began - that sex with me was disgusting. By the end of the relationship, I had to drink alcohol every time to go to bed with him. It was the only thing that allowed me not to think. Now the vision of sober sex is doubly terrifying to me. But I know that never again will alcohol be my means of getting rid of pain - the physical one and the emotional one.
This went on for eight years, until he finally cheated on me and it turned out that he had fallen in and was going to be a father. Of course, he blamed it on me. "He had no way out," since it was so hopeless with me.
I am very grateful to fate for this, because if it hadn't been for this - I don't know myself how much longer I would have been stuck in this relationship. I am now, after almost three years of therapy, in the best place for me mentally. I look at what sex has been for me over the years, and I catch my head.
Right now, sex is not important to me, and it might as well not be in my life. But there are two wolves in me. I have needs, and I know (though not from experience) that sex can be good, non-toxic and just plain enjoyable. I'm at the stage where I slowly feel ready to start dating, but lack of sex, especially at the beginning of a relationship, can be a problem for a guy. And I don't know if I'll be ready for it after three or five dates or ever. On the other hand, I know that in this sphere I'm not going to force myself to do anything and I'm not going to compromise. And I quietly hope that there are guys who can accept this.
I hate sex because this sexuality was never mine
In a relationship, I was asked for sex for so long until I "said yes" - many times. Eventually I learned that there was no point in refusing, because my refusal would not be accepted anyway. I didn't try to explain that forcing sex was violence. At the time, I only encountered comments along the lines of "after all, she agreed" or "soon you'll have to sign a written consent for sex" or "she stated after the fact that she didn't like it and says rape." To this day I sometimes catch myself thinking that I didn't have such a bad situation after all. The end of the day I "agreed".
I hate that I feel disgusted with myself because I let myself be touched by a bad man. I hate that I find it so hard to feel pleasure from sex. I hate that during so often the stress, guilt, disgust and fear come back. These are the things I mean when I say "I hate sex."
I'm in a healthy, long-term relationship. I finally have the space to work through these emotions and move on. But rebuilding a relationship with my own body is very hard. I avoid sex and have a lower libido. This, in turn, is met with frustration from my partner - which I understand and would probably feel that way too if I were him.
My experiences cause me to not feel "satisfied". I'm messed up, I can't enjoy it like a "normal" person. Because sex doesn't give you the fireworks you talk about. I don't feel that "masturbation is ok" and healthy, as body-positive instagrammers preach. For me, it's fear and guilt. Something I want to avoid rather than seek and allow myself to explore.
The most difficult emotions came when I was browsing through threads on Reddit and found a "Dead Bedrooms" forum dedicated to relationships where sex no longer occurs or happens very rarely. Having a partner who reported the problem of too infrequent intimacy many times, I began compulsively reading them - about how men feel unwanted, unloved, how negative and toxic thoughts cause them to not have sex. And comments that when a couple doesn't have sex, they are practically nothing more than "roommates." I was panicking at the time. The realization that your partner person might treat you as someone who only lives with you because you are no longer having sex... Especially when sex is so far outside your comfort zone for you.
What is it with a woman who is so young and doesn't want to have sex? After all, it's cool, you should take advantage before marriage and kids come along. But I'd rather a million times more to be thought that there's something wrong with me than to have to ever force myself to do it again. I refuse to do it, I've lived it, and I'll gladly choose the lack of sex for the rest of my life than any compulsion.
I hate sex because that sexuality was never mine. But I will get it back, or at least I will strive for it, so that someday I can say that sex can be fun after all. And if it turns out not to be, I'll survive, too. I don't owe anyone anything in this regard. I owe it only to myself. It's not the sex that I hate - I hate the fact that someone once made me believe that from me this sex is due to him.
Going to him, I prayed that he wouldn't try to initiate anything
I don't know where to begin. You are the first person I am telling this to.
I was 17 years old. I was an incredibly confused, desperate girl. I dreamed that someone would love me or pay at least a fraction of attention to me. I fell in love with a boy two years older, who embraced me with tenderness and care. As it turned out after a few months - he simply treated me as his younger sister to be protected. The feeling on my part was incredibly strong, and for my own good I decided that we had to end the relationship. I was left alone, with a huge emptiness inside, with pent up anger and grief that I was choking inside.
One evening I met a boy, let's call him Bartek. Not my type, zero emotional interest on my part, because in my head I still had a previous boyfriend. A few weeks passed, because of mutual friends we met almost every day, and the boy did not let go. He repeatedly indicated that he was in love with me, tried to initiate intimacy, but I kept creating distance, because I am not suitable for a relationship and do not want another disappointment.
Bartek was not discouraged by this at all, and a strange feeling arose in me, which to this day I can't name: a mixture of pressure combined with a shrill fear that maybe nothing good will happen to me anymore and I have to go into it, that maybe this is the only opportunity in my life.
I continued in this feeling for another few weeks, until I found myself at his house watching a movie together. I was drinking another glass of wine, trying to convince myself that I liked Bartek. And I guess I was convinced, because we ended up in bed. I didn't have high expectations, because I had heard a lot before about how the first time is usually awkward. What I didn't expect was that the pain during intercourse would be unbearable, that I would hear, seemingly through laughter, yet bluntly, "a little tight, I could have not wasted the condom," that to my words that it was my first time, I would hear only a sigh of impatience.
Afterwards, I felt empty, dirty and washed out of emotions, yet all I needed was tenderness and security. Until now, when I smell sweat, I am only reminded of my first time and my stomach tightens in disgust.
Of course, the wisest thing to do would have been to end the acquaintance at that point, but not with 17-year-old me. I preferred to experience only one problem, the awful "first time," and not combine it on top of being dumped. Later that evening, I agreed to be together.
As you can probably guess, nothing changed after that. We were together for three years, and I was so afraid of being alone that I couldn't separate, even though I didn't love him, which also contributed to my disgust with sex. I never felt safe in bed. I didn't feel like Bartek was taking care of me. Every intercourse was painful - as I recently found out, probably due to a left-sided cervix. None gave me satisfaction. When I started avoiding sex because I had zero libido due to hormonal disorders, my boyfriend reproached me, comparing our sex life with his colleagues.
He never asked my permission (because that, according to him, spoils the whole mood). He put his hands in my panties, touched me when I slept, explaining that he was obsessed with my body, and when I refused to have intercourse, he always put his hands under my shirt after a while and touched my breasts, because, after all, sometimes it excites me, so maybe that makes me consent now. I asked him not to do it, because due to hormone problems I had soreness in my breasts and nipples. To this day, it happens to me that if I touch my nipples in the shower or even move so that the material of my shirt rubs against my nipples, I feel disgust, regret and rage. Images from previous years come back.
I hated sex so much that when going to Bartek, I prayed that he would not try to initiate anything, because always after my refusal there was silence on his part until the end of the meeting, and I blamed myself. We also didn't talk much about sex, because I felt such hatred for him that I didn't even want to think about it. I remember how awful I felt when I started getting involved in feminist activism - after all, I stand for sex with explicit consent, I organize strikes and am sensitive to physical and psychological violence in relationships, and inside I hate sex and am unable to resist when my partner forces it on me.
You don't even know how relieved I was when we left for college in two different cities and saw each other once a month, and I gained great friends here who gave me a sense of security. Slowly, month by month, I gained more and more courage and confidence in my ability to live without him. I broke up with him shortly after the end of the academic year.
Two years have passed, and I feel that I was given a second life after the breakup. He asked me to go back to him, but during that whole year in another city without him, I realized that I was worth more than punishing silence and coldness for asking him to respect my body. I'm now a year and a half into therapy and have learned to put myself and my needs first. I am learning and starting to put up boundaries if I feel bad around someone.
However, I still feel disgusted by sex itself. Since breaking up with Bartek, I haven't even cuddled with anyone other than those closest to me, let alone kissed or had sex. I still have a clenched stomach at the thought that his hands were once on my body. I would love a healthy romantic relationship, but I tremble with fear at the thought of what could happen in a situation of getting close to someone.
I hug my 17-year-old self the hardest, giving myself a lot of compassion and understanding. If that time was to give me something good, it was certainly the need to fight for self-love and to gain the confidence that I would never again let myself be treated and hurt like that. After all, no one can give me the kind of love I can give myself. And after what happened to me, I owe it to myself.
God, how good it felt to get it off my chest!
A friend said that my duty in a relationship is sex
A friend in our pack sexually abused me. When I told my boyfriend about it, he started calling me a slut. I thought it was my fault, and I didn't do anything about it. I felt terrible and stopped having sexual relations at all. After a while I broke it off, but my next boyfriend forced me. At first I thought it was my duty. Something I had to do as his woman.
I tried talking to a former friend, and she reassured me that this was what I was there for, to please a man. She thought the same as the man who was doing this to me. For her, it was normal that I should chase after him and do what he wants when I don't feel like it. I had no one to turn to. I felt that I was his toy and that my life would always be like this again. My self-esteem was the bottom.
I wondered if I felt attracted to men at all. Maybe I prefer women? This was also difficult for me. Now, even if I wanted to, I can't. This is... It's hard for me to talk now. I don't talk about it every day. I'm just opening up in therapy.
There's a man I'd like to be with, but I'm afraid that even if I want it very much, it won't work out. It's like a wall has been put in front of me and I can't break through it. There were also times when I just gave up. I have a block, I can't keep trying. When someone says they've had a relationship, I can't listen to it fully, because I start to feel - I don't even know what to call it - disgust? Disgust? Not only to myself, but also to all such situations.
And it makes me squirm with pain when I'm reminded of what happened. Certain places or smells that remind me of it just make me feel a physical pain in my lower abdomen that blows me away. I thought I had endometriosis, but a test showed I did not.
I blamed myself for a long time. Now sometimes I think so too, because I couldn't scream. Behind the wall was his brother, I would have saved myself. I was frozen, and later I couldn't even distinguish what was violence and what wasn't. But at some point I said "no" directly. And even that didn't help.
I wish I could turn back the clock to just live a normal life. I feel this blockage, but I know I also have a need for intimacy. I don't know if I can get into a relationship with anyone.
I feel like a doll that has only one task
I wouldn't say that I hate sex. I have a boyfriend, but sometimes I feel uncomfortable. Not only do I have pain from endometriosis and cysts, but it's hard on me mentally. Of my four previous partners, two forced me to do things I didn't want to do (one made me feel guilty, the other held me down by force), and the third just stopped talking after he got what he wanted.
The fourth partner threw around texts about my appearance. After losing weight, I have skin that remains on my abdomen. I dread any position except lying down, because when I'm up, I'm reminded of how my ex-boyfriend said my belly was hitting him. With any position, the only thing on my mind is that my skin is hanging out. My current partner doesn't have any problem with it and I only hear compliments from him - but that one stayed in my mind.
My current boyfriend is trying, and trying hard, but sometimes I feel like it's something I have to do, want to or not. And that takes away any joy from intercourse for me. No matter what we do, I feel like a doll with only one task.
Now I know that there is not even a little bit of my fault in this
I was sexually abused. I was under the influence of alcohol and psychoactive substances given to me without my consent. It happened on my 18th birthday, at the end of the party. It was done by my best friend's friend, sober, practically in front of our other friends. I found out about everything the next morning, because I didn't remember anything from the party.
Two years have passed since then. Despite the therapy, any physical contact makes me repulsed. It makes it difficult to enter into any relationship, even relationships with friends. In fact, I feel tremendous shame every day, even when I watch a TV series that features sex scenes. This makes life extremely difficult.
Any question about my sex life I immediately reject. I say that my libido is zero, and I blame it on hormonal problems. The very thought of pornography makes me nauseous, and intercourse is out of the question. Fortunately, I now know that there is not even a hint of my fault in this.
**
Have you experienced violence? You can find support here:
- Feminotheque Foundation (women and non-binary people)
- Foundation Fortior (men)
- Blue Line (relationship violence)
