The other day, I got thinking about sexual ethics. I decided that it would be an interesting exercise to try and summarize and clarify my own sexual ethics. A lot of what I will say here will be based on the first episode of The Bed and The Blade podcast. My views about sexuality are deeply rooted in my understanding of the everyday sacred, and I feel like this post gives me a chance to expand on what I briefly mentioned as a part of that episode.

I will note that this is my personal sexual ethic as I understand it myself. You will not find any “thou shalt” statements in this post, because I have no desire to prescribe how anyone else should approach their own sexuality. Now, I think many people might find my thoughts here informative and helpful. Otherwise, what would be the point of sharing this post? But at best, I think of this post as indicating my own personal perspective based on my limited experiences and providing another (and there are many out there — some probably of better qualify and deeper research than mine) resource that someone might find helpful to consider as they develop their own personal sexual ethic.

I will also note that I’m working on my personal sexual ethic as a cisgender gay white man, which means it really is limited. There are those whose lives and experiences mean that they will find gaps or dead angles¹ in what I write here. If this describes you, you are welcome to borrow only those things I’ve said that work for you and encouraged to fix the rest so it works for you as well. In fact, I’d love to hear from you about any changes you might make. Drop me a comment, maybe?

Defining My Rights

It may seem strange to start a treatise on sexual ethics by defining my own rights. I mean, isn’t ethics normally about responsibility and doing the right thing vs. the wrong thing?

I submit that this is the problem with much of what has passed for sexual ethics over the years: the abandonment and devaluing of self. I maintain that understanding our own value and what we can reasonably expect, hope for, and even demand is foundational and essential to questions of responsibility and treating others right.

I have the right to want or not want sex.

For many of us, sex feels good. Barring coercion (in which case it’s no longer sex) or bad circumstances, it tends to make us feel good. I have a right to want to feel good, to enjoy the pleasure my body and sexual activities with other people gives me. I’m allowed to want to experience that.

On the flip side, I have the right not to want sex either. That can be situational (I don’t want sex right now or with this particular person) or general (I’m just not into sex, end of story). In the end, it’s about understanding my own wants and needs and respecting that. And “keep the sexy times away from me please” is as valid as “bring on the threesomes!”

I have the right to want as much or as little sex as seems right to me.

This is an extension of the last statement. Maybe I’m feeling like a horn-dog and want to have sexy times every night. Maybe I’m good with once per month or less. Again, this is about understanding my own personal wants and needs and honoring them.

I have the right to want to engage in the sexual activities that seem right to me.

If I want to stick to masturbating, that’s okay. If I want to get toys to enhance my solo time, that’s okay too. If I want to engage in “vanilla” sex, that’s okay. If I want to explore spanking, rope play, cupping, needle play, or any of the other kinks out there, that’s okay too. Again, sex is meant to be enjoyable, and engaging in the kinds of activities that I really enjoy without guilt or shame is a gift I give myself.

I have the right to want to have sex with the people who appeal to me.

I’m gay, so for me, I’m really only interested in sexy times with men and and mostly male-presenting people². But if I also wanted to have sex with women and mostly female-presenting people, that would be my right as well.

This principle also applies to how many people I want to have sex with. Personally, I’m a happy monogamist. I’m happy in my exclusive relationship with Joe. But if that changed, I’d have the right to want to explore polyamory. And before I met Joe, you better believe I had string of partners.

I do feel like this principle needs a caveat, however. There are those who might use this principle to justify racist or transphobic dating preferences. I especially remember all the Grindr profiles who used to say “no blacks” and justify it with “just a preference.” There still comes a point where we need to interrogate our preferences to see whether they’re really just a preference or are rooted in something more sinister. That’s not something I’m going to adequately address in this post — or possibly ever — but I wanted to acknowledge it.

I have the right to decide my own reasons for having sex.

I can want to have sex because I’m hoping it will strengthen the bonds of love and affection between myself and another person. Or I can want to have sex because an orgasm would feel good right about now. Sex can fulfill different needs and even multiple needs at one time. And I get to decide what needs matter in any given situation. Because that’s the other beautiful part: I can engage in sex for different reasons each time.

I have the right to re-evaluate any of the decisions I’ve made and make new choices at any time.

One of the things that the last twenty years have driven home to me is that things change. Needs change. What works for me changes. I need to be empowered to roll with those changes and adjust my approach to sex accordingly. There was a time when casual sex with some guy I met on A4A, Grindr, or Craigslist was a blast for me. Then I got tired of it. (It inspired a short story I wrote years later, actually.)

I think an important thing to note is that my change of heart does not imply that my earlier behavior was wrong or a mistake. It just meant that things had changed for me and it was time to consider a new course of action that better addressed my evolving needs at the time.

Defining My Responsibilities

Now that I’ve defined my rights in terms of sex, it’s time to define my responsibilities. This will mostly be framed in terms of responsibilities toward the people I’m having sex with. If I were to always fly solo, things would be a lot simpler. But not nearly as satisfying in my opinion.

Other people have the same rights that I do.

Everything else I way will tie back into this statement. In fact, I could almost get away with making it the sole bullet point of this part of my sexual ethic. Because this section is essentially about honoring other people’s rights when it comes to sex.

I have a responsibility to honor the rights, wants, and needs of any sexual partners or potential partners.

At it’s heart, this means talking to my partner(s) or potential partner(s) about what they are looking for and what they want, need, and expect from a sexual relationship (even if it’s a one night stand) with me). This also means I need to be open to the possibility that they don’t want a sexual relationship with me at all. Or just don’t want to have sex right now.

At this point, the attentive reader might recall that in the section about my rights, I said I had the right to want sex. I never said i had the right to have sex. This is why. Once I start to seek sex that involves more than myself , having sex becomes contingent on finding willing and interested partners.

I have a responsibility to communicate my wants and needs to any sexual partners and potential partners.

Knowing what I want and need in the realm of sex doesn’t matter if i don’t make the effort to clearly communicate that information to those I’m looking to have sex with. My partner(s) needs to know what I’m into and what I find enjoyable. They need to know about that little thing that I’d like them to do so it will drive me wild.

They also need and deserve to know what I hope to get out of sex with them. Am I hoping this will be part of a romantic relationship? Or is this a casual, one time thing for me? Or am I hoping that we can be friends with benefits with no romantic attachments.

I have a responsibility to be clear on whether I can meet any sexual partner’s or potential partner’s needs.

This is where we get into the heart of any healthy sexual relationship: Communication, negotiation, and respect. If my partners have a certain sexual activity that they feel they absolutely need, but I’m uncomfortable with that activity, I need to be honest about that. Maybe we can find a way to work around it. Or maybe it just means we’re not compatible and we both need to move on.

Similarly, if someone is looking for a long-term romantic relationship and sees having sex with me as a way of building that with me, I need to be honest if I’m not in it for the long haul or simply have no interest in romance. It would be grossly cruel of me to mislead them just so I get my own need for sexual gratification filled in that situation.

I have a responsibility to respect any sexual partner’s or potential partner’s boundaries.

While I’ve been considering my partners needs and whether I can meet them, my partner has hopefully been doing the same thing. Maybe they find my needs incompatible with their own. Maybe I’m into a kink that is a hard limit for them. I need to respect that feedback from them. Again, I have the right to need and want what I need and want. But I don’t have the right to expect any particular person to fulfill that need or want, especially when it’s not something they’re into and are potentially even uncomfortable with.

I have a responsibility to communicate when my needs and wants have changed and be open to the changing needs and wants of any sexual partners.

As I said in the section listing my rights, needs and wants can and often do change over time. That’s not a problem. But when it does happen, I need to communicate that to any partners I have. it may mean that we need to adjust our relationship. Or it may mean we need to end it if it means we’re no longer compatible. That’s potentially heartbreaking, and it’s important to handle it with empathy and understanding.

I also need to be open to my partner experiencing a change in needs and wants. And again, I need to work from a place of empathy and understanding while we figure out how to adjust or end our relationship accordingly. After all, changing needs and wants are not a moral failing. It’s just the occasional fact of life.

Conclusion

In the end, sex can be a wonderful and pleasurable thing and something people can share with each other under many circumstances and in a myriad of ways. Or sex can be an ugly and exploitative thing that leaves people devalued and harmed. By understanding both my rights and my responsibilities, I can increase the chances of the sexual encounters that I pursue to be a positive and enjoyable experience, both for myself and those who join me in those encounters.

Notes:

¹ I don’t know who first recommended this term as an alternative to “blind spots.” I first ran across it earlier this week on Twitter and I like it. I’ve heard before how “blind spot” is ableist and should be avoided. Before now, I’ve revised my statements to avoid the term, which tended to be more wordy. It’s nice to have a “drop-in” replacement.

² This part needs work. A lot of work. To be honest, I don’t have the vocabulary or sufficient understanding of nonbinary people to really provide the nuance this section needs and deserves. I hope this acknowledgement at least softens the sting some enby readers might feel over this failing.