“I’m a cis-woman in my late 30s and waited longer than pretty much anyone I knew before having penis-in-vagina sex when I was 23. I’ve had a handful of one-night stands, which were generally enjoyable, but haven’t had a relationship that included heteronormative sex in almost ten years. The last time I tried it with a partner it hurt, so we stopped. Maybe it’s a lube thing. But sometimes I wonder if it could be that my hymen was never fully broken. Intercourse is a prominent aspect of my fantasies and I’m hoping that I’ll soon be taking the plunge again, and that it won’t be a big deal, but I’m wondering if you have any suggestions about making it less of a big deal.”
I’m interested to share some thoughts and ask a few questions about your description of heteronormative sex, but I’ll start with something more concrete which may be all you need to figure out what’s going on for you and how to make it something less of a big deal for yourself.
In my experience, the pressure most of us face regarding sexual choices when we are young stays with us long after we grow up. For some there is tremendous pressure to be sexual. For others the pressure is about not appearing or being sexual at all. What that looks like depends a lot on the communities we live in, what peer groups we hang out in, as well as who we are and how much of that we choose to show the world.
I mention this in response to your comment that you waited longer than pretty much anyone you knew before having penile-vaginal intercourse. At some times and in some places 23 would be old to experience first intercourse and in others it would be young. The age you were when you first had intercourse isn’t a part of some code that, once cracked, will reveal your sexual future.
Deciphering a code like that has only one of two outcomes; you get it right and understand everything or get it wrong and it’s all gibberish. Making sense of our sexual pasts and how they connect to our sexual present and future is more like trying to answer a koan than crack a code. There are infinite possible answers as well as one that fits you.
All of this is to say that I wouldn’t necessarily put a lot of weight on the timing of your first experience with intercourse compared to others. I think the timing, in the context of your own life and experience, carries a lot more significance.
The concrete thing I wanted to address is the fact that penile vaginal intercourse is painful for you and you’d like it not to be. Pain during sex (which in research and clinical terms usually means pain during intercourse) is unfortunately a common experience. It could be, as you suggest, an issue of lubrication. Vaginal dryness is one cause of painful intercourse and fortunately it’s one that can often be easily addressed. Sometimes it can take a while to find a lubricant that’s right for you, but for some people once they do, the problem is solved. Keep in mind that vaginal dryness itself will likely be the result of something else going on in your body and it’s worth seeing your healthcare provider and talking about it to make sure it’s not a symptom of something else that needs your attention.
You also ask about the hymen. It’s possible, although much less likely, that your hymen is causing pain or discomfort, although it’s not a question of it never being “fully broken”. There’s still so much misinformation about the hymen, but it isn’t like a seal that gets broken or popped upon first intercourse. The hymen doesn’t usually fully cover the vaginal canal, it’s always partly open, and the mucous membrane that makes up the hymen is stretchy and flexible, particularly after puberty.
It also doesn’t disappear or disintegrate once you’ve had intercourse. In fact the hymen can regenerate itself. Although most of the time it doesn’t, it just wears down smooth and isn’t visible or noticeable to the touch. But occasionally there are what I’ve seen referred to as hymen tags, essentially a little bit of skin, that could conceivably cause irritation and pain. The best way to rule this out would be to have an internal exam if you have access to health care.
There are other possibilities of course that might explain what’s going on. One that comes to mind is that maybe you just don’t like penile vaginal intercourse that much. Despite its place of prominence in the pantheon of sex, intercourse has many problems, and many detractors. You mentioned that you fantasize about it a lot, but that alone doesn’t mean that you necessarily like doing it or even want to do it more (we fantasize about all sorts of things we don’t want to do). I’m not trying to talk you out of wanting or enjoying intercourse, only offering a counter balance to the pervasive idea, one we’re spoon-fed from an early age, that intercourse is real sex and therefore if you like sex you must like intercourse. This is nonsense. But if you are a cisgender woman who enjoys sex with men it can feel like the thing you’re supposed to like (same if you’re a man who likes to have sex with women… this is one of the many areas where being queer can be a lot easier).
Of course if you don’t like intercourse but want to like it, it’s possible you could develop a taste for it. If you investigate any physical causes of pain and come up empty, and you do want to explore the possibilities of enjoying intercourse one way to do this would be to give sex toys a try.
Using a sex toy on your own can reduce a lot of the anxiety that comes with partner sex, and at the same time can facilitate a more immersive fantasy about sex with someone else. If you can get yourself turned on and experiencing pleasure using the dildo while fantasizing about a partner, it might be easier to take the next step and include a partner in the mix. You may even want to start without that goal in mind, but just as an opportunity to try something new. The exercise itself may bring new awareness, ideas, or thoughts. You might notice your mind wandering when you get to the point of penetration. You might notice yourself not just wandering but thinking of specific things. Or you might have a great time.
The last thing I wanted to comment on was the idea of heteronormative sex, which you referred to in your question. What I appreciated about the phrase is that it circles a sexual practice without including you in it. This is a longer story but I just wanted to make it clear that whether or not you’re straight, or a cis-woman having sex with a cis-man, the sex you have doesn’t need to be heteronormative (by which I mean, among other things, that lets-not-talk-about-it-and-just-have-sex thing). I think that’s what you meant when you wrote that, but what made me wonder is whether or not it’s the multiple layers of baggage and expectation that comes with heteronormative sex which may be getting in the way. I certainly find this to be the case with a lot of people I talk to. If it is, then one approach is to sort of queer the sex you’re having. This can look like many things, and it needs to be negotiated or at least thought of with your partner in mind, but it’s a pretty exciting thing to venture into.
