The last couple of times I had sex, I cried afterwards. I know, this blog post sounds like it’s going to be a little bit horrible: it is. Sorry about that. Sometimes life is full of hot fucking and joyful blow jobs, and sometimes… well, sometimes it is stress and panic and crying after sex.
The first time I cried after sex, it was because I was sad. There isn’t really any sugar-coating here: I was sad. I was sad for a whole bunch of reasons. My body didn’t work, that’s the main one. I’ve had a few really anxious weeks, and although sometimes I can fuck my anxiety away, more frequently it sits in between me and my partner like this huge, cold barrier. It kills my libido, and makes me forget what I enjoy about sex. It makes me feel like every second I spend on joyful things is a second I could be using for something more useful.
It tells me that fucking isn’t useful, and so I shouldn’t do it.
So that’s the main thing. My body didn’t work.
But more than that: my body had not worked for what felt like a long time. A week can seem like a year when you’ve spent so much of it navel-gazing about how useless you are, and how weak, and how incapable. When you bully yourself into wanking because you’re a fucking SEX BLOGGER. So you have to do this, come on why can’t you do this, what exactly is wrong with you?
If there’s one thing more difficult than having sex when you don’t feel like it, it’s writing on a sex blog about how you didn’t feel like having sex. Again: navel-gazing in the extreme, and probably boring for you lot, who’d rather read something a little hotter. Rest assured, if you read to the end, I’ll give you something less depressing – I promise. But add that to the anxiety bank too: writing is my job, and just as important in my life as sex is. So when you get to the point when you can neither write nor fuck, what is there left to do but cry?
These aren’t the main reasons I cried, though. The main reason I cried, that first time, is because I’d built myself up for something that didn’t happen. He’d sent me a filthy text earlier in the day, and I’d rushed home from the pub to come and find him – delighted that the spark which I thought I’d lost was suddenly firing again. On the tube on the way home I held the image in my mind of him touching himself – trying to make sure I didn’t lose the mood before the train arrived at my stop. And I kept it – just. I ran into the house, breathless, and burst in to where he was sitting with his erection in hand and a huge grin on his face. I spat on my hand, lubed up his dick, and sat down on it slowly while he groaned with relief.
Then we fucked.
And then I cried.
I know now why I cried: not because I didn’t come (although I didn’t) or even because I didn’t enjoy it (though I didn’t). I cried because as I squeezed my cunt tight to better feel him come inside me, I realised I’d given up trying. Given up caring about whether I came, given up really trying to enjoy it. I’d held that promise of a fuck for the whole journey home, yet as soon as I actually started doing it all I could think about was getting it over and done with.
Why? I don’t know. I don’t know what is more important to me than being physically close with the person I love the most in the whole world. Using his body for pleasure, and revelling in the way he uses mine. Feeling his warm hands on my skin, and his lips around my nipples and his thick cock stretching out my eager cunt… what exactly is more important than this to me? I don’t know. All I knew was that at some point I’d given up on that, and stopped finding joy in it. I just wanted it to be over. I didn’t cry because I hadn’t had fun, I cried because I’d stopped giving a shit about fun altogether. I was so wrapped up in anxiety – terrified of literally everything the world had to throw at me – that there was no room whatsoever for joy.
So I ran out of the room, slammed the kitchen door, put the dinner on and then cried. And cried. And cried.
Crying after sex: take two
A week or so later, after a long bath and an even longer session of crying into a towel, he came to lie on the bed beside me. It’s one of my favourite things, this: lying on the soft blanket on our bed, warm and naked and soft after a bath, just feeling the sensations of softness on my skin and pushing out everything else that’s going on.
He came to lie beside me, and he kissed me.
For ages.
I don’t know how long: hours? Minutes? It was long enough that every fibre of my anxious being wanted to run away. It felt nice, and that niceness felt unfair. Niceness made me guilty, because it was not something I deserved.
But he did it anyway.
For ages.
He kissed me really gently – not in the way that I like, in the way that he likes. He did the things that he’d been itching to do for a week, but which my anxiety was keeping him away from. He gave me soft kisses and he touched me gently, and occasionally he pulled away, looked me in the eye and said ‘is this OK?’
It was.
He kissed me again, started touching me all over, took breaks every now and then to ask:
‘Is this OK?’
And it wouldn’t have been, but for him asking. Those gentle, calm questions made me feel like it was OK. He wasn’t trying to make me feel joy, or cajole me into being my same old self: he just wanted to do things and wanted those things to be OK. Not groundbreaking, or world-changing, or inducing the greatest orgasms I’d ever known… he just wanted me to be OK.
So I was.
He flipped me over and ran his hands down my back towards my bum.
‘Is this OK?’
‘Yes.’
Then he spread my legs and used spit-lubed fingers to gently rub my clit.
‘Is this OK?’
‘Yes.’
Then he rested the tip of his dick against the entrance to my cunt, again:
‘OK?’
‘Yes.’
He fucked me slowly at first – long, firm strokes that built to a pause as he rested with his cock deeply inside me, holding back to stop himself from coming. He sighed with satisfaction, then took the Doxy out of my bedside drawer, turned it on and placed it beneath me (‘Is this OK?’ ‘Yes’) before he started fucking me again. Each stroke pushed me down onto the bed, grinding my clit against the rumbling vibrations.
Dragging pleasure out of me even though I thought my tank was empty.
He put both hands on my shoulders to push me more firmly into the bed, and I moaned.
‘Is this OK?’
‘Yes.’
And it was OK. Though saying it like that sounds like too small a thing for what it was. When you’re used to ‘awful’ and ‘terrifying’, ‘OK’ and ‘fine’ are like gold. I was fine – happy, even. Because he was still there, enjoying me, and wanting me to enjoy him.
He had the patience to try even when I didn’t.
When I came, I shuddered all over, like I was shaking off the sadness of the past few weeks. And once he’d come, I let myself cry. Not out of sadness and self-pity this time, but happiness.
The sheer relief of knowing that even when I give up on me, he won’t.
27 Comments
Wow! I’ve only just found your blog and it’s had such an impact on me. I’m so glad you wrote about this- I also experience anxiety and also had the weird crygasm thingy you describe, it’s such a bizarre mix of sadness and relief. Thankyou for writing this! I wondered if you might find my post on sex and anxiety useful? https://thepearldiaries.blog/2017/11/07/how-i-learned-to-stop-worrying-and-improve-my-sex-drive-the-anxiety-edition/ xx
Thank you so much – I’ve read your blog post and there are som egreat tips in there – thank you xxx
Aw glad you enjoyed it. I love your blog- I eagerly wait for your next post :)
I like this text; I find it very touching. Thank you!
Funny thing, I actually wrote a little thing last night about crying during/after sex, only I was writing from the side of how great it can be. I don’t want to be like one of those people who tries to be funny at comedians on Twitter, but, er, if you’d like to read it I could send it to you or copy and paste it in here.
I really hope your mental health turns around soon. You sound like you’re having a terrible time of it and I wish I could say something that would make it easier for you.
And, er, on the topic of your actual article, it’s really interesting, as your work always is :)
Hey, thank you so much, that’s really kind of you to say. And yes I would love to read it! Feel free to paste here or if you think it’d be a possibility for a guest blog drop it in an email to me [email protected]
Oh man. I feel you on this.
I don’t recall ever having cried after sex. I’ve cried beforehand, I’ve cried in frustration while trying, I’ve cried before my first time because our attempts didn’t work, and I’ve cried because my anxiety/depression gets in between my libido and I. I’ve been there. It’s been a problem this year. It’s a problem now.
Oh, and I totally get the “you’re a sex blogger!” bit, too.
After the first time I had sex with my second girlfriend, she cried. She came beforehand, she came during, and then she cried. We weren’t even a couple yet, but she felt like she was still cheating on her ex-boyfriend – he’d been cheating on her, and he was the one who ended it all and left her in pieces. But a small part of her, she confided, was still waiting for him, and even having sex with ILB was something that made her feel terrible about it.
I lay there with her, held her, and listened to everything she had to say. I didn’t stop holding her and I didn’t stop listening. I let her cry in my arms.
I suppose what I’m saying here is that crying after sex – like crying in any other situation – is something that happens. It happens; it sucks, but it happens, and if the person you’ve just had sex with is crying, the best thing to do is offer your support. If they want it, it’s nice to offer it.
Ah ILB your comment gave me all the feelings. You’re right – sometimes all people need is just a shoulder to cry on, and it is nice to have someone who is able to just be there and offer support. xx
I’ve cried twice with partner – once because he made me feel so good about myself, after being told for years that I was frigid, second because no matter what he did, I just couldn’t feel anything (anniversary of an awful sexual assault by said ex, whilst drunk event with ex), but memories came flooding back, He thought that he was doing something wrong, and that I was accusing him (his ex was a psycho, and would threaten him with “molestation” charges if he didn’t do what she wanted) of rape…. I was devastated, obviously, and then needed to talk him down….
This is gorgeous and I relate 100%. Thank you so much for sharing yourself the way you do. <3
Thank you! <3
Ah, I’m sorry to hear you’re going through a difficult time and it’s very sad that the sense of “obligation” to write in a particular way compounds your anxiety. I adore your sexy writing, but I also love your political and other personal pieces, and I’m sure many of us readers would continue to read whatever you choose to write, because your mind works in a fascinating way and you have a great knack for reflecting it through words.
I hope you find yourself on a more even keel soon, and in the meantime that you can find a way to be as kind and generous to yourself as he is xxx
Thank you so much! <3
I am now crying a little, having read this and related to it so much more than I expected to. My partner is the best part of 100 miles away and I’ve spent all day in bed curled up in a terrified ball of anxiety, knowing I Have So Much To Do and petrified of starting anything because I’ll just do it all wrong. On the cusp of a fantastic opportunity and still convinced that it’s not really going to happen.
I needed the reminder that there is someone who believes it’s worth trying. He’s not here right now, but he hasn’t given up on me. Thank you.
Hey, thank you so much for your comment, and sorry I made you cry. I hope that things pick up for you, and I’m so sorry to hear your anxiety is being so horrible =( x
Maybe people do like the hotter stuff in general, I don’t know. I know that when I felt like you describe in this post I too felt like a fraud as a blogger. But I’d be very, very surprised if a lot of readers don’t breathe a huge ‘Thank god it’s not just me’ sigh when they read this. Please remember that, just as it’s ok to have an empty tank when it comes to sex, it’s ok to also have one when it comes to sex writing.
Thank you Charlie xxx
This was a good one. And that’s a good guy you’ve got yourself there.
nobody UNDERSTANDS like you.
Nobody FEELS it like you do.
NOBODY IS ABLE TO SHARE THE EXPERIENCES YOU IMAGINE INTO REALITY AND LIVE – COMPLETELY – FULLY – THAT YOU GIVE TO US AND MAKE US FEEL TOO.
YOU SPARK OUR IMAGINATIONS – BRING US TO LIFE – WE FLY WITH YOU AND DROWN IN YOUR PAIN.
WHO CAN DO THIS MAGIC?- BRING LIFELESS HOPELESS LONGING IMAGINATIONS TO LIFE?
ONLY A FEW – THE GIFTED – CAN DO THIS MAGIC – THE TRUE MAGIC – LOVE – MAKING LOVE.
SHARING YOUR PERSONAL JOURNEY THROUGH THIS ROLLER-COASTER RIDE THAT ALL OF US WHO ARE HUMAN CANNOT AVOID – SO TRULY HONESTLY – UNASHAMEDLY – PROUDLY AND BRAVELY – TEACHES US TO VALUE – AS YOU DO – EVERY SECOND OF THE ODYSSEY – HEAVENS AND HELLS – ALL.
LEARNING TO TREASURE THE TREASURE IT IS – LEARNING TO CARE AS DEEPLY AS YOU – THE EVERYTHING WE ARE IN THE EMBRACE OF – THE BLISS AND PAIN OF OUR DESTINIES.
WE ARE TINY ENTITIES THAT CAN DO NOTHING BUT SURRENDER TO THE WHOLE CONUNDRUM THAT LOVES US – THAT WE SWIM ABOUT IN – THAT DROWNS US IN ITS MADNESS.
LOVE IT OR HATE IT – IS OUR ONLY CHOICE.
NOTHING CAN ALTER OUR PROCESSION THROUGH THIS TIME IN THIS DIMENSION – IT HAPPENS TO US.
IF WE SURRENDER AND BECOME ITS FRIEND – LIFE WILL TEACH US EVERYTHING – WE WILL LEARN LOVE – MORE AND MORE.
WE ARE TINY DROPS OF WATER IN A INFINITE SEA OF TRUTH AND LOVE – AN IMMENSITY FREE AND LIMITLESS.
ENDLESS IMAGINATIONS CIRCLING INTO AND OUT OF THEMSELVES – INTO AND OUT OF ITSELF.
A CONSTANT CONSTRUCTION AND RECONSTRUCTION OF UNIMAGINABLE CONCOCTIONS – THAT IT SPINS FROM THE NOTHING IT IS.
THIS ILLUSION WE FIND OURSELVES SPINNING ABOUT IN IS BUT ONE VERSION OF ITS ENDLESS DREAMS THAT PRETENDS TO BE REALITY.
IT IS OUR REALITY IN THIS HERE AND NOW – IN THIS ONE TINY MOMENT WE HAPPEN TO FEEL ALIVE AND PARTAKE OF.
THIS LIFE WE LIVE IF A GIFT WE ARE GRANTED BY LIFE AND BY GOD TO KNOW THEM.
THEY ARE SHARING THEMSELVES WITH US.
WE ARE A PART OF THIS CONCOCTION – A MOST WIERD AND WONDERFUL PERPLEXITY – THIS STRANGE PARADOX – THIS PUZZLEMENT WE MUST LVE THROUGH BUT WILL NEVER SOLV.
THIS CRAZY INCOMPREHENSIBLE DIMENSION OF BOTH PLEASURE AND PAIN – THAT LIFE DRAGS US THROUGH – SEEMINGLY UNCARING.
BUT IT KNOWS WHAT IT IS DOING EVEN IF WE CANNOT EVEN GUESS.
THIS IS A DREAM AND WE ARE BEING DREAMT UP TO PLAY LITTLE PARTS IN THIS PRODUCTION OF HERS.
THE PRPOSE IS TO GROW US.
IF YOU LET HER SHE WILL STRETCH YOU INTO WHAT SHE INTENDS YOU TO BECOME.
IT’S HER DREAM AND WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF HER IMAGINATION.
SHE KNOWS WHAT ITS ALL ABOUT – SHE IS MAKING IT OUR REALITY -THIS IS HER PRODUCTION.
SHE WILL TAKE YOU BY THE HAND AND TAKE YOU TO YOUR DESTINATION – AND IN THAT PROCESS MAKE YOU INTO WHAT YOU SHOULD BECOME——-
IF YOU LET HER.
SHE KNOWS.
WE GUESS.
THIS DIMENSION IS LIKE KINDERGARTEN – WE ARE AT THE BEGINNING – OF LEARNING AND GROWING – FROM BABIES INTO A MATURITY THAT WILL DENY DEATH.
GROWING TO BECOME OURSELVES – WHOLE – COMPLETE – HUMAN BEINGS – IS OUR PURPOSE HERE.
IF SUCCESSFUL WE WILL HAVE EARNED THE RIGHT TO ENTER THE NEXT DIMENSION OF GROWTH.
THIS IS THE FIRST STEP THAT OFFERS US THE OPPORTUNITY TO ENTER INTO UNION WITH GOD.
LIFE WISHES AND INTENDS TO GROW US INTO CREATIONS READY TO DWELL AMONGST THE GODS.
THAT IS WHAT WE MUST DO – GROW BEYOND SIMPLE MONKEY ANIMALS – BEYOND THE BEASTS WE SEEM INCLINED TO DEGENERATE INTO – AND LET HER STRETCH US INTO COMPASSIONATE HUMAN BEINGS.
WE ARE THE PROMISE OF ANOTHER LEVEL OF CREATION THAT ONLY THIS DIMENSION PROMISES AND OFFERS HOPE FOR.
THIS LIFE KNOWS WE CAN DO IT – IT KNOWS THAT WITH US AS ITS RAW MATERIAL IT CAN ACCOMPLISH -A MAGIC TRANSFORMATION.WE CAN BECOME HUMAN BEINGS.
OUR FREEDOM – OUR ONLY FREEDOM – IS TO SAY YES OR NO TO THE DEAL OFFERED.
THERE IS NO OTHER CREATURE BUT US THAT IS GIFTED TO GET THERE.
NOTHING ELSE OF THE WHOLE OF CREATION HAS THIS POTENTIAL – ONLY US LITTLE MONKEYS – WE PRETTY LITTLE MONKEYS HAVE BEEN DREAMT WITH THIS PROMISE BUILT INTO OUR GENES.
IT IS OUR DESTINY IF WE “get it” RIGHT – if we don’t “GET IT” WRONG.
THE REAL ART – THE REAL ARTIST – THE REAL WORK OF ART – IS OURSELVES.
WHAT WE BECOME – WHAT WE LEARN AND GROW INTO.
WHAT WE AND LIFE AND GOD GROW TOGETHER.
HUMAN LIFE IS THE CHANGING OF OURSELVES INTO ARTISTS.
CREATORS – CHILDREN OF OUR CREATORS – GOD AND HIS FEMALE PARTNER – OUR FATHER AND MOTHER.
THEY DREAM US UP TO BECOME THEIR EQUALS – FROM INFANTS TO CREATORS LIKE THEM.
THIS IS THE DIMENSION THAT GROWS GREAT ARISTS.
IT IS A LEVEL NOT ALL REACH – BUT DESPITE OURSELVES WE ALL TRY TO ATTAIN IT.
ARTISTS ARE WORSHIPPED AND ENVIED HERE ON EARTH – THE MOST SPLENDID WE ACTUALLY CALL
stars” – AND RIGHTLY SO.THEY HAVE EARNED THEIR PLACE AMONGST THE STARS – AMONGST THE GODS.
THE REST OF US “know”. IT IS NO SECRET.
THE ABILITY THEY HAVE TO CONNECT WITH THE REST OF US LAGGING BEHIND INSPIRING US TO CATCH UP TO THEM – AND BECOME ONE OF THEM – ABLE TO BE THEIR FRIEND – EQUAL TO THEM – IS THEIR IRRESISTIBLE MAGIC – A MAGIC THEY HAVE BECOME.
TO GROW HEARTS AND MINDS AND SOULS AND SPIRITS OF SO MUCH MAGIC IS POSSIBLE TO EACH ONE OF US – IF WE CHOOSE.
THAT IS THE REAL TREASURE OF THIS EXPERIENCE WE PASS THROUGH HERE ON THIS ANIMAL PLANET.
ALL ELSE IS A WASTE OF OUR PRECIOUS TIME – CHASING OUR TAILS – MISTAKENLY COLLECTING HOARDING AND PROTECTING THE EVERYTHING ELSE -THE “stuff” WE HAVE CLEVERLY BUT STUPIDLY – AND VERY BLINDLY – CONVINCED OURSELVES TO BE THE REAL TREASURES OF THIS WORLD.
WE SELL OUR HEARTS AND MINDS AND SOULS FOR – FOOL’S GOLD – AND FIND AT THE END OF THE JOURNEY ALL THAT “stuff” WE WORSHIPPED AND LOVED – WILL NOT PAY THE WAY TO THE OTHER SHORE.
CHASING ANYTHING ELSE BUT LOVE LEADS TO A DEAD ENDING.
A GRAVE – THAT IS A RECYCLING BIN FOR A LOST WASTED SOUL – WHICH HOPEFULLY -(as the HINDUS seem to believe) WILL RETURN TO THIS DIMENSION – THIS KINDERGARTEN – FOR ANOTHER TRY – TO GET IT RIGHT.
Heartfelt post GOTN, sorry you’re going through a rough patch, pretty awesome bloke you have there.
Hugs xx
This is beautiful, and means the world to me. I’m so glad he asked. I know entirely what you mean about asking whether it’s ok MAKING it ok – and I think this post will be my shining example of what “consent in an established relationship” looks like.
It’s ok if you can’t write, or if you need to write sad things. I’m sorry you’ve been low. part of the reason I love your writing is because it’s so real. Thank you for being real with us. x
A week can seem like a year when you’ve spent so much of it navel-gazing about how useless you are, and how weak, and how incapable
Oh yes, this is so true. I’m coming up to 6 weeks of a depressive episode and it feels like 10 times the length of the 6 weeks before that where I felt that I was starting to come good.
I’ve been reading a while, but this is my first comment. Thank you for writing about the tough times as well as the good. Delving into the full gamut of emotions is what makes your blog so great. Take care and I hope better times are here soon x
This post made me tear up – or rather, the idea that a partner just solidly being there and being supportive is a radical act of love (and it can be) made me tear up. Thank you for writing about and addressing challenges in sexuality as well as the fun parts – I think it’s really helpful for people to know that even folks who do work related to sexuality have a hard time with it sometimes.
beautiful and touching. thank you.
I’ve cried after sex too, in recent months. I think it was because I felt emotionally disconnected from my partner. Maybe in part due to feeling ‘flat’ in terms of my mood, but also in part because I’ve felt we’ve been drifting apart for a while.
In any case, reading your thoughts made me cry just now. Because I empathise with you, and I’m glad you can write so eloquently despite your mental health situation. It helps to know we aren’t alone, particularly when we feel isolated as we often do during depressive episodes.
Hugs xx
I’m crying now! Sad for you and happy for you and sad for me and happy for me all at once. You haven’t done a bad thing prompting any of us to tear up, either. You just write stuff that’s lovely, and human, and that resonates, and that’s what we come here for just as much as the sexy stuff. You keep going when things are shit, and just keep humaning more, reminding so many of us, in so many different ways, that we’re not alone. Its a lovely, kind thing you do here, and you deserve all the nice things that come your way.
Trying not to cry as I read that.
I’ve cried a couple of times after sex but usually alone. I’m in a db relationship and sex is rare and when it happens I’m grateful and happy yet somehow disappointed. Grateful that he still wants me from time to time and his libido is still there somewhere, but disappointed and sad that I know it’ll go back to the same old nothing and rejection.