Is there a moment when you’re more vulnerable than that poignant instant when you first get naked with another person? Everything is out in the open – everything. Those minute flaws that you obsess over in the mirror are now under the microscope of physical intimacy. The oddly-shaped birthmark? Check. The lack of a six pack? Check. The strangely baggy arm skin? Double check. More than that, now that you’re naked, there’s nothing between your partner and those most private parts of your own body. I’m not talking strictly about your Television Parents Council-designated private parts. Maybe you feel weird about your elbows. Maybe you giggle uncontrollably when someone kisses the right side of your neck. Whatever is it, you can only hide it for so long when you’re naked. Even with the lights off, your body is on display.

It’s not just your body, though. It’s your sexual self. When we go through our daily lives – going to class or grabbing a coffee before getting to work, we aren’t being sexual. Doesn’t mean we don’t think about it. And it doesn’t mean that we all don’t get those random waves of arousal that make any given day simultaneously surprisingly awesome and awkward. But we have to show the world that we’re above our basal instincts. That’s what being a person in society is all about. It’s the reason we don’t get drunk during the day, or eat an ice cream sundae in the break room for lunch, or make out with our co-worker at our desks (at least, not often). It’s not that we don’t want to do these things, it’s that we aren’t supposed to. This is the reason that getting drunk is so intoxicating (if you’ll excuse the pun). Being drunk allows us to ignore all of this righteous self-restraint and say, “Why yes, I will buy a lamb sandwich from this gentleman in the roadside cart at three in the morning because it smells good.”

When you get naked with someone and sleep with them, you not only let them see your body. You’re also letting them see you at your most basic level. The part of you that you spend a lot of time trying to pretend isn’t there. We’ve been taught to separate our hedonistic sexual selves from our demure, proper, tax-paying selves, and to keep the sexy part under wraps. To borrow from the ineffable Lil John, we are all supposed to be “a lady in the street and a freak in the bed.”

So when you get intimate with someone, you’re letting that part of yourself off the leash. You’re introducing another person to a side of you that even you don’t even always see. And that’s a scary prospect. It becomes much easier if we embellish our sexual selves and mask those drives we have with a more theatrical approach. If we distance ourselves from our sex lives, then maybe we won’t be held responsible if we do something wrong.

This is another confusing part of sexual intimacy – the fear of doing something “wrong.” We aren’t taught a whole lot about the realities of having sex, except that we’re supposed to be really good at it. We’re supposed to be able to successfully please (with an orgasm being the only valid measurement of pleasure) any partner with minimal amounts of conversation. Anything other than that, and we’re simply not “good” in bed. Can you imagine that kind of pressure in any other type of situation? You get hired for a job, and on the first day someone hands you a folder of blank papers and says, “The clients want a dynamite presentation. You need to address profit margins, assets, and merger outlooks. And not necessarily in that order. I can’t tell you how long the presentation will be – it could be two minutes, and it could be two hours. At no point should you stop and ask the clients if you’re on the right track. If they sense weakness, you’re a goner. Good luck!”

The simple answer is to detach our sexually performing selves from our real selves. We become the embodiment of who we think our partner wants to be with because it’s safer than being ourselves. We act out a script in our head that’s been successful in the past, or we embellish our moans and cries of pleasure because we think it’s what our partner wants to hear. I don’t think this is necessarily a bad strategy. Sex can be stressful and each new partner presents unique challenges, preferences, and learning experiences. Retreating behind a sexual persona can make it a bit easier to have confidence in yourself.

This only becomes negative, in my opinion, when our obsession with being “perfect” prohibits us from enjoying ourselves. Even though having sex with another person is a shared experience, it is still a way for us to express ourselves. Becoming a caricature can alienate us too much from what we want and need. I think this tends to fade naturally when we develop a long-term sexual relationship with a partner, and this facilitates the development of those lovely little layers of intimacy.

My suggestion would be for those of us who are not in a long-term sexual relationship to try to find ways to be ourselves in bed. We don’t always have to hide behind this facade of being the perfect partner. Be willing to do what you must to get what you want and need, including asking the awkward questions. After all, at the end of the day, allowing your partner to really please you just might be the best way to really please your partner.

Hi, I’m Ethan Sommers. I’m new around here at Met Another Frog. Ms. Blue invited me over because I have a confession:

I hate performers in the bedroom.

Don’t know what I mean? Here’s the nitty-gritty…

It was some years ago when I was with one particular lady-in-question. We were both in our early twenties and she hadn’t had a lot of partners. I was a bit more experienced and welcomed the opportunity to play teacher.

In one of our first forays in the bedroom, she decided to ride cowgirl over my rough and rugged plain. After she slowly lowered herself onto me, I closed my eyes and surrendered to the sensation. She quickened her pace, up and down, and then, like a Hawaiian dancer, twisted her hips from right to left, drawing me in and out of her as she did.

I remember thinking for someone so inexperienced, she seemed pretty crafty with the coitus.

She began moving her hips in a circular fashion, stirring herself with my erection, alternately speeding up and slowing down depending on her impulse in the moment. At first, it was enjoyable. I was content to let her play around as she was still discovering herself. Then I opened my eyes.

Her gaze was fixed to the left of the bed, on the mirror that made up the sliding door of her bedroom closet. She was watching herself, noticeably sucking her stomach in as she pinched the pink nipples of her perky breasts. Watching her as she moved, I realized she was so focused on how she looked that she didn’t seem to be enjoying herself. I had a theory why and a question to ask.

“Where’d you learn how to do this?”

She looked back at me, smiling. “Honestly? I saw it in a porno I watched last night. You like it?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to keep things positive. “How about you?”

“Oh, it’s nice.” She turned her head back to the mirror. While her attention was on me, she had relaxed a little. Now that she was conscious of her appearance again, she assumed the upright porn star pose once more, sucking in her stomach as she picked up the pace.

Did she look hot? Absolutely. If Heaven is a real place, then I hope the first sight I see beyond the Pearly Gates will be a woman riding me to climax. This lady, however, wasn’t even coming close. She was going through the motions of how she thought she should screw me, and that was a huge turn-off.

I’ve never had a problem with girls who want to watch themselves in the midst of a good fucking. It can add to the experience in so many ways that it’s worth a shot if you haven’t tried it already. The problem in this instance was that the lady-in-question wasn’t doing it for her enjoyment. She was putting on a show, performing for herself in the mirror; obviously more worried about how she looked than what she felt. I knew I’d have to nip this shit in the bud.

I chose my words carefully, got her to close her eyes and concentrate on how things felt as she moved above me. It didn’t take long for her to figure out what worked for her, and as the mess of the bed later indicated, it didn’t take long for me either.

Following a few more weeks of exploring, we tried the mirror again. Gone was the idea of looking sexy. Now it was about being sexy. Watching each other’s reflections pump and grind instead of spot-checking appearances made for quick and delightful work.

Sex done right is about connecting. If alone, with one’s self. If with others, then it’s about connecting with one ’s self and others. Whether you ride waves of pleasure to the port of orgasm or just for a lengthy cruise, it’s about knowing what you want to experience and exploring how to get there. By being more concerned with the performance rather than the sex, the lady-in-question was missing the point.

That’s the problem with learning about sex from porn, as so many do nowadays. Anyone with an iota of actual experience knows that on-camera fucking isn’t always the same as actual fucking. Porn is performers getting paid to look good in acrobatic poses meant to arouse the viewer enough to rub one out. You can learn some new positions and get turned on plenty, but not everything on-camera is going to work for you in the real world. As hot as it may look, no girl I’ve been with has ever enjoyed reverse cowgirl while suspended above me on all fours. I’ve been with a few good women that have tried, but it ended up not being worth the trouble because neither of us enjoyed it.

The moral of the story?

When the bedroom antics become a show, it’s more about the idea of sex than sex. One is good, but the other is much, much better.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out which.

Hey CoCo,

The problem I’m having is a little tame compared to the stuff you usually tackle. The thing is, I’m a little self-conscious in the bedroom and I always have to have the lights off during sex.  My boyfriend goes along with this but I know he watches porn so I can assume that he’d actually prefer to …you know… see stuff for real.  I don’t mind a little bit of undressing in the living room but once we’re down to our skivvies I move us along to the darkened bedchamber in a hurry. I used to think this was normal but I realize now that it probably isn’t.  Do you have any advice to help me get over this?

Lights Out

–

Hey Lights Out,

Not to worry! With all the nude and nearly nude bodies on display in the media we consume it’s easy to feel like you’re the last prude on earth. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve talked to many women who have a lights out policy just like you! That’s the good news. The bad news LO is that you are indeed a timid little flower and your unfortunate tendencies are limiting your sexual range. It’s time to take off those big girl panties and show the world – or, um, just your boyfriend – what you got.

Self-consciousness is a beast that we all struggle with everyday. The truth is that no one feels confident 100% of the time. Negative voices are like the ultimate backstabbing friend. We’re used to them so we still hang out, but they invariably leave us feeling shitty. Remember, negative thoughts are NOT your friends and they’re out to ruin your good time. Recognize that and don’t let them take over. It can be scary at first but, if you’re going to conquer brave new worlds, you’ve got to leave your excess baggage behind.

An example of the many benefits of sex with the lights on.

Take baby steps to begin. Start with a little mood lighting: try replacing the lights in your bedroom lamps with lower wattage or coloured bulbs. Candles are also a nice way to go, just be sure they’re nowhere near the bed. This kind of lighting flatters everyone and lets you ease into full exposure. You could even blindfold him in the beginning so that you can explore his body while you build up your own courage and arousal. When you’re ready to take the plunge, position yourself to best advantage and let him feast his eyes upon your womanly wonders. He will be embarrassingly grateful. Count on it. If this still feels like too much too fast then dress things up a little. Sexy lingerie that you actually want to show off could go a long way towards giving you a boost of confidence. You can even keep on your lacy bra and garter/stocking combo during the dirty, that way you feel wonderfully alluring and you get your money’s worth from the outfit.

Maybe you’re the type to over think things? Why not make a list of pros and cons and determine what the worst case scenario is? I’ll get you started…

Pros:

• No more blind fumbling
• Your sex life will improve
• You’ll experience more connectedness and intimacy with your BF
• You’ll learn to appreciate your body and the pleasure it can give you

Your boyfriend gets to… you know… see stuff in real life.

Cons:

• Lingerie and candles can get expensive
• It may take some getting used to.

There you go LO, a perfectly reasonable pros and cons list, and as you can see there are almost NO cons to having adequate lighting during sex. Take it from an expert, it’s the truth. There may be some initial awkwardness but that’s about it. Don’t fear your partner’s reaction LO, your BF will be the happiest little boy on earth. I guarantee it. Besides, if you thought he would point and laugh at you while you sobbed in naked mortification would you be dating him? I sincerely hope not. Anyways, ruling out spontaneous combustion, that really is the worst case scenario and it’s not going to happen. Don’t you feel better now?

LO, keeping the lights on during sex isn’t just about being able to see all the naughty bits. It’s about being able to appreciate and properly attend to them. It’s about trust and confidence and intimacy.  These things don’t come easy to anyone but they’re available to all of us if we believe ourselves worthy.

Don’t be so hard on yourself, you deserve to have great sex and you’re worthy of your partner’s admiration. Start slowly with the suggestions above and you’ll soon be walking around starkers in broad daylight, with a trunk full of sex toys and detailed map of where to stick them.

So, onward brave explorer. There is much to see and do!

Love CoCo

I should be a lot more confused about sex and sexuality considering my mother’s conflicted approach to it. But for some reason, I’m…not?

Mama HLBB was raised in the Caribbean during the 50’s and 60’s, which was a time when no one talked about sex. She thought if a man and woman’s underwear was washed together, babies were made. When she got her first period, she thought she was dying of internal injuries. So, she promised herself that should she have daughters, she would be a lot more open than her mother was about “that stuff”.

It definitely started out that way. My parents separated when I was an infant, leaving me to grow up in a house of women. I never had to cover myself up; I knew what maxi pads were for by the time I was 4 and I knew what my body was going  to do when it started to change.

By the time this tomboy reached her tween years, my girlie girl of a mother had started to feminize me. Hair salons at nine; hair removal techniques at 12; training bras and yes, my first trip to the makeup counter at 13. Each lesson had the underlying message: this is what we do to be women…that men will find attractive.

But…

I was also told repeatedly to never let a boy touch me until I was married.

Hello, high school…

Suddenly the boys this tomboy played with regularly were “off limits”. Calls were screened – and by “screened” I mean, “hung up on”. My mom, who had spoken in a “Our Bodies, Ourselves” manner for the first 16 years of my life had now developed a series of euphemisms for that same body. She alternately called “that area” a “vagina” (when speaking in clinical terms); my “front” (when discussing hygiene); and “down there” (when discussing all things sex). Our “sex talk” was basically me telling her what I learned in health class and her saying, “you better not come home pregnant and embarrass me.”

Now, you might think that I had a growth spurt that gave me a 36x24x36 figure, but no…I was a stick figure…with glasses…and still wearing training bras. Maybe you’re thinking that Mama HLBB had a religious epiphany and became ultra conservative? Nope. Was I sexually promiscuous? Staying out all night? Nope…my curfew was sundown and I was a virgin.

Granted, a lot of my girlfriends had become mothers in those years, and even though their pregnancies had scared me straight, it scared her silent and restrictive. For example, when three – yes, three – doctors all said I needed birth control pills for a medical condition, she protested vehemently and stated she’d rather I deal with the pain than have an excuse to run out and have sex.

But…

There was that one time, my best friend H (a guy) came over dinner. H smoked about a half pack a day, and had already developed the “cigarette after dinner” habit. Post meal, H politely said to my mother that he was going to go out to the balcony to smoke. As he headed out, Mama HLBB shouted after him “you know smoking lowers your sperm count, right?

(Insert stares of mortification here…)

Another time, she asked if he was buying condoms since he had a girlfriend. After all, he was a “good looking young man, but shouldn’t have any pretty babies just yet…”

Wait, I was destined to become a wanton slut because I was taking estrogen pills? My sex talk was one sentence long? But she was giving H reminders to buy condoms and asking if he loved the girl?

Fast forward to university…

Mama HLBB’s tone had changed yet again. Boys had gone from being my friends, to being disease-riddled baby makers, to potential husbands. My poor university boyfriend had to go through that second transition. I wasn’t allowed to sleep over at his place (although I’m pretty sure she knew what we were doing until 4 a.m.) but one night I did and everything changed…

That Christmas, my boyfriend came over for our gift exchange.  For my mom, he bought wine. I bought him a cashmere sweater. My mom bought him a gift card to HMV. For me…she bought a black negligee and a couple of champagne flutes. Then said, “well, I guess that gift’s for both of you…(giggle).”

(Insert stares of mortification here…)

Hello adulthood…

I’m 35, and I’ve still never spoken to my mom about my sex life. She, on the other hand views me having sex as a gateway to providing her with a grandchild and recently suggested that I go to grocery stores to meet her future grandbaby maker.

Should I have a girl, I have vowed to be more…clear about all “that stuff”.

Okay y’all.

We’re about halfway through our Family Values month and I have yet to share anything my mother taught me about…well, anything during the days of my youth. And the truth is she taught me a hell of a lot, including the following:

1. Having self-esteem is important. Anyone who operates in a way that indicates they don’t have and aren’t even trying to get any self-esteem will be treated like a doormat. PERIOD.

2. People who don’t take responsibility for creating the lives they want to have, people she not so succinctly calls “Those passive aggressive, no accountability taking, whiny ass fools”, like to spread their misery around. Stay away from them.

I’m sure I didn’t recognize how valuable these lessons were as a kid, but now, especially in light of the two stories I’m about to share, I get it. For real.

.

Story #1: Having a No Good Cheatin’ Man is Better Than Having No Man At All?

Picture it. A woman is sitting in front of her computer, her wide eyes fixed on the screen and her mouth hanging open in shock. What is it she sees that she can’t tear her eyes away from? A dating profile, on POF, featuring a picture of a man she’s quite familiar with. In fact, it’s not just the man she’s familiar with, it’s the picture itself. You see it’s a picture that she was cut out off, because which woman in her right mind would choose to contact or respond to a message from a man on an online dating site with an image of himself positively beaming at the camera  with an arm around another woman? D’uh…no one.

Have you put the pieces of that puzzle together folks? For those of you who haven’t let me explain. Said woman sitting in front of her computer, staring at the monitor in shock is in an exclusive (at least as far as she is concerned) six year long relationship with said man, who had the audacity to use a picture he cut her out of as the main image on his dating profile. On POF. One the most public dating sites on the internet.  I’m going to go ahead and pause for a minute so you can really take that in.

PAUSE.

Okay, you good?…Alright then let’s continue.

What does that story tell you about said man? Do you think he respects his girlfriend and their relationship? Do you think he is worried about her feelings or embarrassing her in front of her friends? Do you think he thinks she’ll actually leave if she were to find out? If you answered a lot, no, no and no, you’re absolutely right. Yet in spite of all the hard evidence, including the fact that said woman…

*Created a fake dating profile on POF, which she used to contact the all too eager said man

*Recruited a friend to play the phone version of fake profile chick so she could listen in as said man flirted wildly and set up date with another woman

*Called him directly after his long conversation with fake profile chick only to have him lie to her about his quiet evening at home watching TV

Said woman is not just still dating said man, she’s making plans to move in with him! Apparently, the thought of having to “start all over again” after “investing soooo many years” was too much for her to think about – even though it’s not the first time she’s caught him cheating online.

What else to say?

Nothing except…

Team Said Man, 100s of notches in his belt (and counting). Team No Self-esteem Having Said Woman, 0 and eventually a social disease?

.

Story #2: Eff Findin’ My Own Joy, I’m About Shittin’ on Yours

See this picture right here?

That image was posted to the Google+ page of the frenemy of one of my best buds who recently announced her engagement. It was posted by a woman who is still pining over the loss of a relationship that lasted four months – even though it ended four years ago. And trust me, if I introduced any of you to her today, you’d know all about him within 10 minutes of meeting her.

But who am I to judge anyone else’s pain? Everybody copes differently, right? While I happily concede that point, you know what I don’t agree with? Anyone who believes that just because they’re unhappy they have the right to dump their shit on everyone around them. And by dumping shit, I don’t mean just talking incessantly about someone you dated for five minute minutes eons ago. I’m talking about…

• Not once telling your ‘friend’ that she looks fabulous after she worked hard to lose over seventy pounds, while continuing to shove food into her face every time the two of you are within a 100 foot radius of a restaurant.
• Adding fuel to the fire of any insecurities she may have about her relationship when she mentions a disagreement she’s having with her man, by telling her that the man in question probably won’t stick around anyway.
• Remaining cemetery silent as the rest of her friends and family offer up their congratulations after she announces her engagement on her Google+ page
• Choosing to take the uber bitchy route by posting the picture above on your own page, knowing full well your friend will see it.

Hmmmm…Passive-aggressive-take-no-responsibility-for-your-life-circumstance-and-whine-your-ass-off much?

.

Both of these stories make me realize how lucky I am, because I know (at least in part) there but for the grace of Mama Blue go I, and for some strange reason neither being a doormat nor a passive aggressive biatch seem all that appealing to me.

Go. Figure.

Hey CoCo,

I’ve reached the end of my rope here so I’m asking for advice. I have always had a hard time having an orgasm even when I’m on my own. My best friend took me out one day and made me buy a vibrator and wow, I was hooked. My little device gives me big results and I really enjoy being able to come whenever I want to but….my boyfriend hates it. After a few weeks of wonderful but non-orgasmic sex I tried to introduce him to my little friend so we could all party together. Well, he let me know that my extras were neither needed nor wanted. Now I’m still not having orgasms and we’re both frustrated. Isn’t there any way that we can all just get along?

Frustrated

–

Hey Frustrated,

I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. I know firsthand how emotions can flare when man meets machine. Would it be helpful to know that it’s not just you? It’s estimated that 75% of women cannot orgasm from penetrative sex alone. Oh men, please understand, we like your penises, we really do. They’re fun to play with and they feel fantastic, but the unfortunate truth is that most of the time they don’t make us come. Sure, some of us can use our hands (or yours) during intercourse and masturbate our way to orgasmic bliss. But some of us really do need our mechanical friends to help get us there.  Vibrators can be awkward, loud and fiddly, but they can also open up a world of fun and make your job soooo much easier.

In all seriousness, an issue like this requires a conversation. Reassure your BF that this is not a reflection on him and that he is not inadequate in any way. It would also be helpful for him to know that orgasm is difficult even when you’re on your own and that this has also been the case with other partners (say this even if it’s not true).  Make sure your BF knows that all your desire is for him and that while he is a living, breathing, really hot person your toy is just a tool.

Let him see how harmless it is by showing him what it feels like. Use it on his neck, back, inner thighs, penis and scrotum. Most men really enjoy the way vibrators feel once they give them a try! Tell him you’d like to show him how to use it on you and make him watch you the first time. Try to keep some eye contact with him, and if possible, physical contact so that you maintain a feeling of connectedness.  It’s very likely that your little performance will start to make him more accepting, turned on and curious.  If you want to go a second round after that then let him hold the toy and gently guide him through using it. The thrill of finally seeing you in the throes of orgasmic bliss from his own manipulations should be enough to change his mind.

Even Hello Kitty understands a girl may need a little battery operated help to reach orgasm.

If he still feels like it’s awkward then you can investigate a hands-free couples toy like a vibrating cock ring or the We-Vibe. These toys are designed to be used during intercourse with minimal hassle and they’ve rescued a lot of sex lives. Fair warning though, they do take some manoeuvring and they don’t work out for everyone. Another alternative is to get a handheld toy that is quieter, smaller, or whatever to make it easier for you and your man to use together.  Heck, even something as simple as purchasing a new toy together can make all the difference. That way it belongs to both of you and doesn’t seem like so much of an interloper.

I truly hope that these suggestions work and frankly I think that with most reasonable guys they absolutely will. However, there are some guys whose egos cannot seem to abide a sex toy. Odd as that is, you cannot go without orgasms simply to spare someone’s feelings. Put it in no uncertain terms.  Either one of you has orgasms or both of you do.  If he chooses himself over you then kick him to the curb. No one should come between you and your orgasm!

Love, CoCo

P.S.  Here’s a fun fact for ya Frustrated. Vibrators were first invented in the late 1800’s as a doctor’s aid.  Why you ask? Well, at that time female orgasm was thought not to exist and no one understood the function of the clitoris. As a result there was such an overload of sexually frustrated women that it became common practice for doctors to have to masturbate their female patients to orgasm just to “save their sanity”.

This “frustration” was called Hysteria by the medical community who believed that a woman’s uterus could become unhinged inside her body and travel around causing her to get cranky and irritable. The only cure was a seizure or “paroxysm” brought on by manipulating the genitals that would (temporarily) bring the uterus back to its rightful position. Women often received this procedure once a week and doctors found this ongoing female condition quite profitable.

When a child asks you something, answer him, for goodness’ sake. But don’t make a production of it. Children are children, but they can spot an evasion quicker than adults, and evasion simply muddles ‘em. – Atticus Finch, To Kill A Mockingbird

The subject of people’s sexual and relationship knowledge, based on their upbringing is near and dear to my heart. As someone who spends much time immersed in sexual research and culture, I have many beliefs and ideas that I think would help people as they mature into adults. At the time I was asked to write this column, it just so happened that I had recently reread a piece I wrote on discussing my bisexuality with my kids—in 2005. It was quite interesting to look back and see how I chose to engage them in discussions about sex so long ago.

I’m glad I was doing that back then because, frankly, in my experience most people do not possess the complex set of skills it takes to make a romantic or sexual relationship prosper. Additionally, I don’t want my children to grow up and experience the same sex and relationship pitfalls so many of us do. Most of us don’t know how to handle and negotiate one night stands. We don’t know how to deal with another’s feelings in intimate relationships. We don’t know how to distinguish sex from love and vice versa.

And while all of this is keeping Hollywood in the green with plenty of rom-com films and television shows, we continue to allow our kids to come of age without these skills. Why do we continue to believe that people are going to learn all of this on their own? Why do we delude ourselves by thinking that denying children access to proper sexual and social education will somehow miraculously make them strong, well-adjusted and compassionate members of our society?

We assume that because most of us have been raised with shame-based notions of sex, it is somehow a big deal to have the birds and bees talk with kids. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had my two daughters at a zoo and heard parents describing animals fucking as a game? Or just shooing their kids away? No, those giant tortoises are actually having sex. Those tigers are mating. Yes, that horse does have a long penis. These are just a sampling of the answers I have given in response to the many questions my kids have asked me. I choose to answer all their questions honestly, because I do not want them growing up fearing sex.

Some would argue that it’s different when it comes to human sex, but it shouldn’t be. It may be harder, it may require more delicacy, but it isn’t any different. Kids need to know the fundamental, mechanical basics of sex first, and then they need to be taught the emotional aspect. In recent times, there are definitely have more kids who are able to give the biological reason for what those randy birds and bees are doing, and this is a great first step. However, these same kids also need to understand why sex and relationships—for better or worse —happen.

That is the crux of our collective social failing. My generation—and at least a few generations before me—are completely unable to address the many aspects of sex and relationships because we just don’t know how.

Who among us can easily say why someone cheats on a partner?

Who can define love?