Much of the world considers it common knowledge that men enjoy sex more than women. And there are many reasons to believe that on average, this is true. But I've come to believe that men, especially straight cis men, are often constrained in their sexual pleasure by the same "advantages" society grants men sexually. In fact, my personal experience has led me to believe that being a woman has actually made sex better for me in some important ways. 

When I work with men as a somatic sex coach, I empathize with the social pressures they face. Not because I've lived them but because being raised as a woman lets me notice what they lack. Being able to see those dynamics has, in turn, deepened my own sexual life. 

For example, I’m a socially awkward person with a deep interest in sex and kink. I've got ADHD and strong opinions about science fiction. It took me a long time to figure out how to be both socially acceptable and authentic, something I can still only pull off on my good days. Had I been born in a male body, I suspect my awkwardness might have been read as threatening in ways it wasn't for me. 

Many of the men I work with feel deep anxiety about coming across as a "creep" or of making women feel unsafe without realizing it. This makes it even harder to get out of their own heads, and ends up compounding their other anxieties around dating. In communities that value consent culture, straight men who are successful in overcoming this anxiety learn how to project safety. They ask before they give you a hug and make it clear that they can hear no without being weird about it. 

Yet I've noticed that even in these communities, straight women are less likely to worry about consent when interacting with men. It's sadly common for straight women to think of consent as something to protect women from men, not something everyone needs to be aware of. 

Since noticing this discrepancy, I've made it a point to have the same kind of consideration of consent with men as I would want for myself. I don't assume that they will want to go as far sexually as I do. If I notice a shift in mood or engagement during sex, I check in without judgement. Because I value enthusiastic consent and clear communication, I make sure to share what I'm excited for, what I'm curious about, and what's off the table. Then I ask them to share the same things. These conversations lead both of us to feel safer and more open to pleasure. 

Many of my straight male clients want to know how to be good at sex. They come to me for advice about giving pleasure to the women in their life, yet I rarely get the same inquiry from straight women. And I think part of the reason for this is that cultural expectations limit women's sexual skills to simply "enjoying" sex, while men are judged on active skills and his ability to "give" a woman an orgasm. 

This leads to some very unfair division of labor in traditional gender roles. To be considered good at sex, a straight man has to be a master of many skills. Witty banter, foreplay, and dirty talk, a working knowledge of the female reproductive system. Does he know the different ways to stimulate the clit, the g-spot, the a-spot, the cervix? Can he do all of that while maintaining an erection? 

A man and a woman in bed
Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash

Meanwhile, straight women often get the message that sex is a passive activity. They just have to say yes; the man will do everything else. When talking about sex with friends, women often ask if the man "gave" her an orgasm. If she doesn't have one, it's his fault. But we also condition women not to talk about or value their own sexual pleasure. Too often, if a woman doesn't have an orgasm, she blames her partner. She may even fake an orgasm to avoid her partner knowing about her lack of pleasure. No wonder so many young men are confused and anxious about how to make sex enjoyable for themselves and their partners. 

For many men, this pressure to perform invades every aspect of sex. For me, losing myself in pleasurable sensations and letting myself be open to everything I'm feeling is an incredibly fulfilling aspect of sex.  And it's one that men rarely get to experience during heterosexual sex. That's because there is tremendous cultural pressure for men to be aroused the right amount. 

Pleasure during sex is about more than penetration, but it would be hard to learn that from the media we consume. Most depictions of sex, in porn or movies, make it clear that without an erection, it doesn't count as sex. Even family-friendly sitcoms regularly make erectile dysfunction a joke, usually something that ruins the sexual experience. One reason I'm grateful to be a woman is that no one ever complains when I come quickly.

In my experience, straight men feel a ton of pressure to be aroused in the "right" way. He has to stay excited enough to keep his dick hard, but not get too excited and risk orgasming too soon. A man can't risk losing himself in pleasure because it's his job to perform. The pressure can be deeply stressful. 

To counter this, I do exercises with my clients to help them experience receiving touch without having to reciprocate or "earn" it. We do silly things like dancing or pretending to be animals so that he can learn flow and react to what's happening instead of trying to control it. 

I'm so grateful that I don't have an obvious outward sign of my arousal level during sex. Over the course of a sexual encounter, natural arousal ebbs and flows. When it starts to fade for me, I can choose to do something to counter it like asking for more foreplay or switching positions. Or I can enjoy the closeness and intimacy of the encounter while focusing on my partner’s pleasure for a while. If it comes back, great. If not, also great. He finishes, and we cuddle. Either way, no one thinks I've done anything wrong if my body doesn't perform the way I want. 

Seeing these differences has given me a lot more empathy for the men in my life. It's true that the additional sexual agency granted men conveys many tangible benefits. The orgasm gap between men and women in heterosexual relationships has been well documented, and of course, women are at much higher risk for sexual violence. But the experiences of my clients and partners have shown me that any benefits men get under the current system come with a high price to pay. 

I’ve come to see that there are quiet freedoms of being a woman when it comes to sex. My arousal can ebb and flow without anyone calling it failure. My behavior isn't screened for evidence of agression. That lack of scrutiny has let me relax into sex in ways I might not have if my body were always on trial. Meanwhile, I’ve watched men carry the weight of constant performance—measuring themselves against scripts that leave no room for vulnerability or play.

What I want, for myself and for them, is sex that feels less like a test and more like a place to get lost. A place where you can forget who you’re supposed to be and let your body tell its own story. I want men to know the relief of receiving touch without having to earn it. I want women to know the power of asking clearly for their own pleasure. Mostly, I want all of us to stop treating sex like a performance of gender and start treating it as a meeting between humans. That’s where the possibility of real pleasure begins.