It's Okay If You Don't Like Anal

All “good” queer people love kink. They love to have sex in special ways that straight people don’t understand and push the boundaries of sexual enlightenment. They transcend the rules of normative sexuality - therefore, they love pegging, strap ons and anal sex. Right?

I cannot count on my hands the number of times I’ve said, “I wanna try anal!” only to quickly change my mind once I was confronted with the amount of time and effort needed to prepare for penetration. It’s an idea that has always excited me but not quite aroused me. Anal was a goal that I felt I had to accomplish to be a sex-positive, kinky person, whether I liked it or not. The idea of saying I finally performed a feat of “sexual enlightenment” successfully was a goal I chased for years. I met people who were queer and kinky like me, but I felt like I couldn’t measure up because anal sex scared me; meanwhile, other folks seemed to incorporate pegging and anal play regularly. I started to think I needed to have anal to be a good queer, kinky person. So, after years of failed plans and half-assed attempts, I finally did it. And. . . I didn’t like it. 

The first time I tried anal was several years ago in my first relationship. There was no preparation involved, and the only information I had on anal sex was from porn, the imaginary land where women moan in pleasure without foreplay and penises slide gracefully in and out of holes. I was ready with my butt facing my partner, and before I knew it, I felt blood rushing to my head and fell forward on the bed, almost passing out from the pain. The times after that, I was squeamish about the prep work and backed out before trying- something wasn’t clicking like I thought it should.

In the past couple of years, I’ve found more open-minded and experienced partners who were enthusiastic and patient about giving anal penetration. In these partners, I found the opportunities to explore what used to be inexplorable in a way that felt emotionally and physically safe. But looking back, the whole time, I was waiting for it to be as good as people said it was. The most recent time I had anal, I had an intense orgasm using a vibrator simultaneously. Even still, I thought about how much time and energy was spent trying to achieve this small moment of pleasure that could have been better spent eating my leftovers and watching the Real Housewives of Sydney. 

After many failed attempts, I finally decided that bottoming wasn’t for me. So, I briefly turned my attention to another challenge: pegging. I thought about the bisexual women and genderqueer folks who celebrated how affirming, empowering and pleasurable pegging their partner was. So, as someone who is also bisexual and genderqueer, my expectations were high. It felt powerful to wear a strap-on and feel the weight of a phallic object hanging from my hips, but that power was drained about 2 minutes later when my legs were burning and my hips started cramping. I tried pegging a few times, but again, I felt uninterested, unaroused and guilty for not loving something that was supposed to be gender and queer-affirming. What’s wrong with me?

We need to stop telling ourselves that because we don’t like xy or z kinky behaviour, we aren’t adventurous enough, or queer enough, or aren’t doing our gender “correctly.” Certain sexual behaviours are not a requirement for a particular gender or sexual orientation. Even if these pressures are unintentionally a result of trying to discourage a restrictive kind of sexuality, the issue comes with encompassing all queer people in a set of expectations which are equally as restrictive.

 I’ve known for a long time that anal is not for me, but I felt eager to prove myself wrong when I could’ve listened to my instincts. I wanted so badly to like something that could’ve been gender-affirming and empowering. The voice in my head would tell me, “Maybe you just haven’t tried the right positions?” “You just need to give it time to get used to it!” “You just need a better strap-on.” “Maybe it gets easier after a lot of practice.” “Maybe if you tried harder, or better, you’d enjoy it and finally be a “good” queer.” And maybe these thoughts are right. Maybe with just enough practice and consistency, I’d be an anal pro, whether giving or receiving. I’ll get used to the tiresome and uncomfortable prep work and find better ways to get my body used to the feeling. I’ll be a pro at pegging for more than 2 minutes because my thighs and hips will get used to the thrusting sensation. And then, just maybe, I’ll love it. 

But on the other hand, that’s a lot of work. And folks, it’s okay if you don’t like anal.