“Casual Sex” Doesn’t Omit Boundaries

What the **** is casual sex anyways. 

I always thought that casual sex would be a slim possibility for me.

I enjoyed the thought of it, but I couldn’t trust that I wouldn’t be re-triggered with my sexual trauma history. At least that’s what I told my therapist.

Her eyebrow went up and a soft hum left her lips, “Then do you want to wait until you’re in a relationship to have sex?”

“Absolutely not,” I huffed.

“I figured. But what is even ‘casual sex’? How do you see yourself being casual in something that’s so intimate?”

I want to say that this was my eureka moment but it wasn’t. At that moment I was feeling frustrated as all hell. Having a sexual trauma history is a lot to bear and a lot to heal from, but I think the most frustrating thing about it isn’t being fearful of intimacy—it’s a fear of losing control in intimate situations.

Up until that point, my trauma therapy experiences revolved around the assumption that my sexual desires would be confined to a relationship. Nothing wrong about that, but I think finding pleasure after trauma should thrive in any environment: relationship or not.

Now enter my eureka moment: the first time I downloaded Tinder.

If that sounds anti-climatic, give me a minute because within the span of two days, I had set up three appointments and two dinner dates. Thus, leaving me booked for three weekends. Did this stroke my ego? Of course, but I didn’t want to ignore the elephant in the room.

Do we feel comfortable with this? Can we do this?

Unfortunately but naturally, my anxiety flared up. I say naturally because my mind at that was just carrying out its innate function: thinking. Thinking about why I would I be asking myself these questions over a casual affair.

That’s when I realized that these “appointments” were anything but casual. Casual felt passive, and to be passive during intimacy made me feel like I wasn’t prioritizing my pleasure—I wasn’t in control. To be casual during sex elevated my discomfort because I hadn’t yet defined what intimacy looked like for me.

Even though I didn’t have the emotional capacity for relationships, I didn’t want to treat those hookups like an adventure into the unknown. For my sake, I needed to know what it was about to go down: Are we engaging in kinks? What kind of kinks? What’s off-limits? Are we doing foreplay before penetration? Do you have any habits I should worry about? Do we have a safe word or gesture? What about aftercare?

Can I trust that you’ll listen to me?

I think to be intimate with others is to also be intimate with ourselves. So to treat intimacy in sexual settings as something “casual” when it absolutely isn’t already sets the expectation that nonconsensual violations are just the norm. Yes, I’ll admit that it’s difficult to communicate with a new sexual partner, but that doesn’t mean we can’t create healthy boundaries.

Long story short, I cancelled all of my hookups I had booked up to three weekends. Without apology or excuse, I simply said I wasn’t comfortable. I felt uncomfortable because while the idea of hookups enticed me, the idea of relinquishing boundaries just because it’s casual didn’t sit right with me.

Sex, regardless of its relationship setting, doesn’t omit boundaries. I believe intimacy and boundaries not only can, but need to live on the same hill.

But this didn’t mean I abandoned I didn’t abandon hookups altogether. Quite contrary, I booked more appointments not too long after. after I cancelled those ones. The only difference was that I made sure to be clear about boundaries around certain kinks that I knew would re-trigger me, established safe words, and communicated during if I wasn’t feeling pleasure — or hell, if I was having a leg cramp.

I avoided going with the flow because that wasn’t within my comfort zone, and I think that’s the key here: comfort. I naturally assume that everyone has a trauma history in any intimate setting, so what we can strive for isn’t to pretend that they’re not there but trust that we can still feel in control.

Whatever works for us is something we should prioritize in both sex and life. Hookup culture holds a lot of space for sexual exploration and liberation if we actually take the time to tune into each other's needs. I went from a slim possibility to actually taking that plunge because sex and intimacy doesn’t need to cease because of our histories.

What does need to cease though is thinking that we’re doing too much just because we’re setting boundaries. Your boundaries are never too much, regardless if it’s a so-called “casual” setting or not. So go on and live messily in the appointments you want on your terms, unapologetically.

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