Guest blog by Talya Sher, teacher, engineer, former consent and sexual health officer at Loughborough University and vital member of our youth advisory board
Ruth: “Hi, my name is Ruth. What is your name?”
Sophie: “Hi my name is Sophie.”
Ruth: “What hobbies do you have?”
Sophie: “I like to paint and play the piano! What about you?”
Ruth: “I like to read and play video games.”
For some of you, this will bring back painful memories of learning German or Spanish. For me, this brings back memories of behavioural therapy which I had between the ages of 6-16, (With a slight twinge of Madam Ritz in Year 7 French class.)
For me, my autism shows itself as a social and communication disability. I spent a large proportion of my childhood in therapy, learning how to hold conversations with others seemed to do so naturally. I would spend hours practising these skills in the mirror before I met new people or had a play date, rehearsing what I would say and how I would appear engaged and “normal”. My brain is imprinted with “talk once, listen twice” and “remember to ask them questions about themselves”, with a whole script for social interactions and ways to ensure everyone feels safe and comfortable.
Despite frustration at the casual conversation tools which were imprinted into my brain growing up, as I entered my adult years and started to have romantic and sexual relationships, I weirdly felt more equipped to have effective communication than my neurotypical peers. The “training” I had for over half my life gave me practical and universally applicable rules for healthy communication, and vitally, consent.
I am well versed in ensuring that conversations are not one-sided and making active efforts to include people. As I become more open about my diagnosis, I have had ample experience of asking for accommodations, clearly voicing what those are, and then asking others theirs in return. It would be hypocritical for only me to feel comfortable, and my autistic brain HATES hypocrisy.
I often find that in sexual encounters (with men) I am one of the first people to ask them what they like or want. They are often taken aback by the question, even if they have just asked it to me. One man even said he gave me “bonus points” for asking him what he liked! While in theory, I understand why this has been the case, in practice, I struggle to understand why we aren’t all just asking each other these questions, and if someone asks you, why wouldn’t you ask it back?
As an experiment to showcase what I mean, if we apply the same logic to our original conversation about hobbies to a sexual encounter, it would look like this:
Sam: “Before we start, I would like to know what you like/don’t like and absolute nos.”
Ruth: “I like long make-outs and having my neck kissed, but please don’t give me a hickey or put your hands near my throat. What about you?”
Sam: “I like it when you run your hands through my hair but don’t pull it.”
Ruth: “Sounds good! I am on birth control, but I also have condoms. I took an STI Test last week, and I am clear. What about you?”
Sam: “I also have an up-to-date STI test and am clear, but I would prefer if we used condoms.”
Ruth: “Perfect. Me as well. If there is anything you do or don’t like let me know.”
Sam: “Same here.”
While this may look stupid, and it to an extent intentionally blunt and to the point, it does show that the logic we apply to basic introductory conversations, has for some reason been stigmatised in sexual contexts as a “mood killer” when in reality, it is just a practical way to ensure a great interaction for all parties.
To me, it is illogical that only I should say what I do or don’t like when that is not how a two-sided conversation works. Additionally, it is illogical not to have that conversation in the first place as without it we are both just playing guesswork and functionally I cannot read your mind.
As someone who is autistic, the body language cues I am meant to pick up are often lost on me. Therefore, a direct conversation and clear guidelines are required. That doesn’t mean I am no longer required to be present and aware of your body language, it just means we aren’t relying solely on the unspoken.
Honestly, when I reflect on my early adulthood and my experiences exploring my sexual identity, the times when I feel off or odd, or the situations where I come away questioning if that was an encounter I was comfortable with, are the ones where assumptions were made, and basic questions were not asked.
I encourage you to find the conversation framework that works for you. Ask the questions that seem stupid or unsexy, and advocate for your pleasure and safety.
Say what you are comfortable with and set up the framework for experimentation which leaves you free for exploration without pressure.
So to end: Hi my name is Ruth, I like healthy and efficient sexual communication. I like to tell you what I like and ask you what you like too. I like to be clear on expectations and contraception, and make sure we know each other’s boundaries. What about you?
To find out more, don’t hesitate to get in touch by emailing us at info@sexedmatters.co.uk. You can also sign up to our newsletter here to stay up to date with our work. Talya will be writing more blogs for us in future months.
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