I’m not sure what to think

Submitted by September (not verified) on Mon, 2010-06-28 23:35.

I’m not sure what to think about the “anything erotic and pleasurable = sex” idea. Because what if it’s erotic and pleasurable for one person, but just sort of “Meh” for the other? Or pleasurable for both people, but only erotic for one of them? Or what if you have no idea how the other person feels about it? Who gets to decide whether it’s sex?

I have a nearly perfect example:

-I’ve never told anyone this story because it’s weird and kinda embarrassing, but here I am telling the whole Internets, hence the assuming of a different name.

I went to grad school at a large university right outside a major city. There was a shuttle from campus to the nearest subway station. This was one of the most popular shuttle routes, so the buses were almost always full enough that a lot of people had to stand up.

One day I got on the bus and was standing in the aisle, facing into the aisle, leaning against that big…box sort of thing right behind the driver that corresponds to the place where the front wheel well is. Standing very close next to me was a really good looking guy. I started grad school when I was 31, so this guy looked significantly younger than I, but definitely well beyond 18.

We both had on short sleeves and as the bus lumbered along the 10-minute route to the subway station, the rocking and swaying that happens when you’re standing on a crowded bus as it stops and starts and goes around curves was causing my right forearm to rub against his left forearm. This was light-to-moderate, but very noticeable friction and it happened several times, sometimes for several seconds at a time during the trip. Neither of us looked at the other, nor did either of us make any effort to move away (not that that there was much room, but either of us could have moved a few inches away from the other if we’d wanted to).

Was he enjoying that? Did he even notice? Was I the only one thinking “Oh, wow. That feels SO good” ? I have no idea. But I could have stayed on that bus for hours.

When the shuttle pulled into the station, we both got off (the bus, that is), went into the station and boarded different trains. The End.

To someone having even a modest amount of (traditionally-defined) sex, this encounter might have just barely registered or been quickly forgotten. But I was then four years into what’s now turned into seven years without any sort of partnered sexual interaction, not even kissing. I’m sure that magnified the intensity of it for me.

This happened more than two, maybe even more than three years ago. But, it was erotic and pleasurable for me, to the extent that I still think about it and still get a little excited doing so.

So…Was that sex?

It’s hard to exclude anything that’s consensual and non-harmful without creating a list of criteria of what sex is and isn’t. And if you’re going to do that, well, who gets to make the list? Better to just include anything and everything, I guess. But…something about that bugs me. I’ll have to think about why.

[Hi September. First of all what a great story! It’s also a great edge case for my definition. I think the answer’s going to hinge on two possible points. First, what was his involvement? If he was genuinely oblivious but it was genuinely (and memorably!) erotic for you then inside my definition you might think of it as a benign but nevertheless non-consensual kind of sex: completely fine if it happened just that once but more problematic if you deliberately went looking for more opportunities with people who didn’t know what you were doing. Second, about the “meh” factor when all parties are aware and consenting to the activity: that sort of thing can happen in almost any definition of sex, including, of course, conventional/traditional intercourse.

You raise a really important point in your last paragraph, September, one I maybe ought to put into its own post because I think it might be really, really important. You said “It’s hard to exclude anything that’s consensual and non-harmful without creating a list of criteria of what sex is and isn’t.” If we include activities that are non-consensual beginning with something as benign as your accidentally getting turned on by touching forearms but also obviously beyond. The definition I’ve used for years now is that “sex” is any activity that produces erotic pleasure for at least one of the involved individuals. I’ve just realized that defining it that way is really important precisely because it makes it a lot harder for folks, authorities in particular but also victims and even perpetrators, to stay in denial about consent and sexual assault. For instance when we define “sex” as only intercourse then you get the well-documented but ghastly situation where assault victims were reassured that “at least he didn’t penetrate you so you must be ok.” When, obviously, it absolutely wasn’t ok! And defining it in terms of specific sexual acts rather than sexual intention and experience makes it harder to identify non-consensual but one-sided acts like voyeurism or deliberately rubbing against strangers (frottage) as sexual aggression. It also makes it more difficult, I think, for victims to explain their discomfort with such “harmless” behavior. If you turn it around and use my definition (which of course most people nowadays at least do when it comes to sexual crime) it’s a lot easier to identify abuse: person X takes erotic gratification from person Y without allowing Y a decision in the matter and/or without respecting Y’s ability to decide whether to participate or decline. My point being that using my definition opens up a lot more possibilities for understanding consent, non-consent, and the principle of respecting the person making the decision to participate. Anyway, I think that could help explain why it makes sense to you that you could include anything, and why it also bugs you. Consider two other possible edge cases. First, someone with a foot fetish who works or, conversely, shops in shoe stores; it might be helpful for them to recognize what they’re doing (the latter might not) and that in turn might help them be more considerate… and if they recognized it and sought out shops and/or customers who appreciated it they might even enjoy it more. Second, there’s this thing in BDSM and other forms of kink where for some people the act of negotiation is itself erotic, with the potentially odd result that a person who gets off on negotiating could derive pleasure by drawing out the process… at the unknowing expense of someone else who derives no pleasure from negotiation at all. Making the definition expansive enough to include that and, again, it’s easier for all parties to recognize potential abuse and… potentially even more compatible partners.

Finally, your anecdote about feeling pleasure from rubbing forearms with someone else is a lovely illustration of Heather’s point that pleasure isn’t all about genitals. Thanks again for the thoughtful comment! —fl]

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