If you’re a man, all you have to do is go to some bar, put a little bit of liquid courage in you and strike up a conversation with any girl who’s three points below you on the 10-point scale.
If you’re a woman, all you have to do is be receptive to that conversation. That’s literally it.
Anyone with half a brain and a full set of genitals can put the P in the V and make the sex happen.
It’s sad that sex has come down to this — an empty, emotionless amalgam of interactions that lead to empty, emotionless fumbling in someone’s bedroom and an equally empty and emotionless goodbye an hour later.
For some reason, sex and enjoyment are mutually exclusive entities. Men shove their flaccid d*cks into vaginas like they’re squeezing half-blown air mattresses back into their travel bags, and everyone seems to be okay with calling this sex.
I’m not shaming people who have meaningless sex — I’m just saying there’s definitely way better sex to be had. Because this generation truly does not have sex anymore.
We’re filling, not fulfilling.
It goes without saying that for most of us, sex is awkward, unenjoyable and really f*cking intimate — like, possibly the most intimate thing any of us will ever do in our lives.
And if you’re having consistently good sex, you’ve either always been in a long-term relationship or you’re not a Millennial.
Both men and women are at fault for why we aren’t really having sex anymore. The majority of women I know have never orgasmed before and don’t understand that they are one entire half of a whole sexual experience in the bedroom.
And men don’t help the situation — they know how much harder it is to get a woman off, so they simply disregard her to spare their ego and focus on themselves instead.
Our problem is we focus way too much on the actual physical act of sexual intercourse. We think merely inserting a dick into a vagina means sex occurred, but that’s simply not true.
In reality, the majority of human beings who have sex aren’t doing it for the biological purpose of having a baby (in which case sex can just mean sticking a dick into a vagina). We’re doing it because it feels good.
We’re lucky enough not to be animals, which means we’re lucky enough to be capable of having sex with lots of interesting, complex layers, one of which is pleasure.
So, the bare minimum requirement of a sexual experience should be physical pleasure. Both parties should walk away physically fulfilled.
This sounds like a no-brainer. Unfortunately, somehow it’s not.
We’re so weird about vulnerability.
What the hell is with this generation’s fear of vulnerability?
It’s like the second anyone brings up the possibility of feelings developing and something real occurring within the context of something that began as just a sexual thing, we all FLIP out.
We refuse to even entertain the idea of connecting sex with emotions. We’re such babies about it.
Look, I get it. Personally, I love vulnerability, but that sh*t’s scary for most of you. After you let someone see your naked, vulnerable body, the last thing you want is to let that person see your naked, vulnerable soul, too.
That’s just way too much vulnerability all at one time and in one place.
But vulnerability just creates amazing sex. When you have an emotional connection, the physical connection is way, way better than you ever thought it could be. Ask anyone who’s been in love before — they’ll tell you.
What is it about vulnerability that scares everyone so much? Are we really this petrified of getting hurt that we’re willing to avoid exploring anything real, ever?
Getting hurt f*cking sucks, but isn’t the idea that you could die alone scarier than the idea that someone could hurt you?
The only way you’re guaranteed to not die alone is if you genuinely allow yourself to be vulnerable. So suck it up and be vulnerable.
We’ve fallen for the media’s idea of perfection.
Every single one of us has experienced the crippling anxiety that comes with picking apart our bodies and our faces and determining that we just aren’t good enough.
Photoshop, hours of makeup and strategically placed lighting have made it far too easy for advertisers and movie and TV show producers to trick us into thinking that every actor, model and politician is naturally flawless — and we fall for it.
We forget that the people we see in the media are not real people, and we can’t help but compare ourselves to these body types and facial features and skin textures that simply don’t exist.
All of this makes us self-conscious and critical of our bodies, our features and our overall physique. We simply don’t find ourselves physical attractive.
To have good sex, you have to feel comfortable in your body. You have to feel hot. And, well, we simply don’t feel hot.
But how can we? How can we ever feel hot in our cellulite or our acne if we’re bombarded with images of people who don’t appear to have any of that?
We’re so digital that we’re disconnected from ourselves.
Thanks to how controlled we are by our digital universe, a connection with another human being isn’t even necessary anymore. We’ve gone full digital.
We’re so focused on improving our social media identities by putting up fun pictures of what we did last night and taking hilarious Snapchats that we forget to improve our real life identity. Our validation is from “likes,” not from the opinions of those close to us.
We’d rather get to know thousands of friends on Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat and Twitter on a surface level by browsing through random profile pictures than get to know a few friends on a deeper, more intimate level.
We’re more okay with swiping right on hundreds of Tinder profiles for hours upon hours than we are with the very real idea of meeting one of those people in person.
We’re satisfied with porn, vibrators and sending nude pictures over Snapchat — all of which don’t require the physical presence of another human being.
It’s no wonder sex has lost its intimacy. Who needs real, lasting fulfillment from someone else when you can get it quickly at the click of an app?