Sex and happiness: understanding your sexual needs for well-being

Let’s talk about sex. If you felt yourself react to that sentence, it is probably because of how loaded or provocative that conversation still is, even in the more liberated environment we find ourselves in today.

In our efforts to construct a life of visible social acceptability, one defined by professional grace, social fluency, and a carefully curated identity, we can often hide our sexual desires away, even from our intimate partners. We speak with conviction about our need for restorative sleep, the virtues of a balanced diet, or the mental health benefits of the early morning run. Yet, when it comes to talking about sexual fulfilment, a lot of us would rather talk about politics, or even the much safer topic of the weather.

In that backdrop, the persistent internal yearning of "I want the sex that makes me happy" can only be screamed into the quiet of our own minds. This secret longing can frequently be mistaken for the inconvenient residue of a more primal, animalistic inheritance or an (unwanted) inability of self-governance. In truth, it can be an act of courageous self-awareness.

To recognise sex as a valid human desire that varies from person to person is to acknowledge a subjective and highly personal truth. However, for many, this recognition is immediately met by a harsh inner critic that judges us for the very fact that we have such inconveniently human tendencies.

Sex in society

In the UK, we are fortunate to live in a legal framework that allows for a broader lens of physical connection than some other, more oppressive societies. When looking at sex from a GSRD (Gender, Sexual, and Relationship Diversity) perspective, we find that the concept of ‘normal’ intimacy is a myth that has caused more harm than joy. A more understanding approach is that happiness is found in the nuances of our unique wiring rather than the imitation of a societal norm.

For example, for a neurodivergent individual, pleasure may be less about the 'romance' that sells mainstream movies and more about particular sensory experiences. Happiness here might be found in the pressure of touch, or a communication style that prizes clarity over the nuances of a sophisticated mating ritual. When we strip away the ‘shoulds’ of how one ought to feel, we allow for a sexuality that is finally as comfortable as it is authentic.

Consider the accounts executive who keeps their interest in their kink private. While living a life of portrayed ‘normalcy’ while working 9-to-5, they diligently mask their sexual self as protection from prejudice and potential public ostracisation. However, within the ethos of RACK (Risk Averse Consensual Kink), we can find something unexpectedly caring: a commitment to safety, informed consent and careful communication that allows the participants to explore the more complex corners of their imagination without fear of the ‘inner critic’ speaking up on behalf of the society that judges.

Who decides what is normal?

We must also confront the prejudice of how we have historically viewed disability. We have, even across cultures, often behaved as though the right to pleasure diminishes with physical limitation. But sexual pleasure is not reserved for the able-bodied. It is an inherent right of the person, something that the able-bodied world has often overlooked. It is an act of reclamation – recognising that pleasure can be experienced in ways that feel right for each individual.

When we feel we are not getting the intimacy we want, whether through a partner, multiple partners or the autonomous act of solo sex, we may feel a sense of unmet need. That is not to say that happiness cannot be found in asexuality. There is an often-overlooked fulfilment in a life consisting of other pursuits with the absence of sexual expectation or expression. To be asexual is not to be missing a vital part of living – it is to possess a different internal balance, one that requires no apology.

Accepting our sexual self

To have the sex we need to be happy, we must first confront the necessity of self-acceptance. We often hope, with a touching but at times naive optimism, that a partner might intuitively know our needs. However, the quest for sexual fulfilment does not necessarily need another intimate partner. Sometimes, "having the sex I want" is a solitary reclamation project. This begins with the intentional work of translating our needs and desires into a language that people we let in to our sexual world can understand.

Psychosexual therapy does not strive to ‘fix’ desires to match the average person. Instead, it provides the empathic, non-judgemental space for the individual to better understand their own mind, moving from shame to discover possibilities of having the sex life desired.

It can help people dismantle the shame that suggests their needs are "too much" or "too strange." It is to rise towards a state of contented acceptance of the diversity of sexuality. It is support for the person in their decision to stop outsourcing pleasure entirely to the expectations of others and be accountable for their own satisfaction.

With the help of an understanding and compassionate therapist, you can realise that the happiness you are looking for is simply sex that allows you to live a life of contentment in your own skin. It could be the shift from hoping to be discovered while remaining concealed, to the vulnerable bravery of showing up authentically, either with another or others of your choosing, or more importantly, to oneself.