This Is The Honest Fucking Truth About Being In Your Own Head During Sex

It’s definitely a duh that sex can be complicated. That’s just how it works. And for that we can thank our lovely little pea brains for psyching us out and fucking it up.

Should I go harder? Slower? Make more noise? Did he really just say that? Should I say something back? Did I like that he just said that? Is this position ok? Is he bored? Should we stay here? Flip over? How do I look? Do I smell nice? Is it too soon? Am I good? What’s he thinking? (Whoa. Whoa. And whoa.) Stop.

I get it. You want to be good. You want to make sense of the situation. But when this happens–when your mind becomes more powerful than your body and you end up trying to make so much sense of the moment in your head, while being a tad self-conscious and wanting to do everything the right way, you basically end up sucking in bed. No bueno. Dead fish. Vanilla. Basic. Boring. Donzo. Anxious minds kill sex.

For me this is a sign that I don’t even like the guy. When suddenly I am way too aware of my body and have to remind myself of what to do, instead of just doing it naturally, and when I judge every little thing he does and says like it’s the deal-breaker I’d been subconsciously waiting for. Like seriously, is this guy really fucking me right now like he’s a Dothraki? And no, man, squeezing your balls doesn’t really sound like a great idea at all to me. And then there I go. My mind analyzing every little thing to disgust before I start thinking about anything and everything else just to deal with it–because whatever this is, I’m so over it. I think of a new vibrator, a vacation, sleeping in, that one dudes name from Denver, and how to make punch. But then I have to remind myself: Wait! You’re fucking. Focus! This is when I have to depend on my mind to help me back into the moment. I think back to every porno I’ve ever seen, as my face looks like I’m squeezing in a loud sneeze. But the moment’s gone. And that’s when I end up feeling nothing but way too old to have such empty, strange and calculated sex. Another thought that’s really, really bad timing.

Of course you could really like a guy, too, and still really be in your head about it. You want to impress him so badly that you keep thinking about what you should be doing next and what he might want you to do. You got moves, surprises, tricks. It’s all worked before. But then you start freaking out a little. Because all you keep thinking about is what you’re going to do two minutes from now, instead of paying attention to what’s actually going on, and to what your body is actually feeling. And then something happens and you’re not prepared for it and now the vibe is weird and you’re frozen and you don’t know what to do and now you’re going crazy and on the way to vanillaville.

And shit! What’s he thinking now? Does he still like you? Is he hearing crickets? Did he just lose his boner or did he need to cool down for a second? Yeah, no. He probably just lost his boner, because you suck. Because you were trying too hard to be good and it had the totally opposite effect. This was bad. Bad, right? Damn! And then there’s the monsoon of freak-out thoughts that paralyze you and now you feel unfuckable for life. Barren dick land is where you belong. And he knows it, too. It’s over. (And that’s when you try to make sense of it, again and again, even after it’s all over, and it all just keeps going and going and going.) Anxious minds kill sex. It must be said again.

So here’s the bottom line: If you don’t like the guy at all and it’s impossible for you to get off regardless of that lackluster connection, then thank your mind for intervening so you can learn from the situation and go find someone whose every move in bed drives you completely insane without having to force it.

But!

If you do like the guy, then tell your over-analyzing brain to STFU so you can pay attention to the moment and how you’re feeling and trust that you will know exactly what to do if you just let yourself be free. It’s kind of like riding a bike. Don’t think so much about it that it psyches you out. Just ride.