The what-ifs are haunting me.
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How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Jessica and Rich here. It’s anonymous!
Dear How to Do It,
I’m pregnant for the first time and due in a few days (really, less than a week!). We had sex regularly through the second and third trimesters up until a few weeks ago. Then, my partner (male) was scared sex could induce labour, and some other circumstances made having sex less convenient. I wanted to have sex one last time “as we used to” (sure, the belly is not what we are used to, but it is still just the two of us and no baby has come out of my vaginal canal yet)…
We did, but it just wasn’t that good. I feel a bit sad about it. I didn’t feel the desire I usually do. I did orgasm, if it matters, but all in all, it left me feeling a bit down. What if everything will feel completely different (meaning worse) after the baby comes and this was my last pre-baby sex? This is probably impossible for you to answer, but I would gladly read your take on it. Also, from a practical point, as I understand it, the traditional four to six weeks after birth waiting period concerns vaginal sex or penetration, right? Fingers (not inserted) or oral should be fine sooner, provided I feel like it; is that so? Thank you for your work (hvala, if Jessica gets this letter)!
—Last Time Pre-Baby
Video from Slate
Dear Last Time Pre-Baby,
Your body is already different in several profound ways from how it was a little less than ten months ago. It will go through rapid changes in the days and months after giving birth. While the changes that can happen during pregnancy and in the postpartum period can be significantly more intense, remember that all of our bodies change throughout our lifetimes. Regardless of how soon after birth you have sexual contact with your partner, it will feel different. It will feel different again and again in new ways as the weeks pass. Putting aside all of the physical shifts you’ve undergone and have on the horizon, your hormones and brain structure have changed, and his hormones have changed, too. The main strategy that will serve you well here is flexibility. Actively look for changes that are positive or neutral, and meet every negative with a reminder to yourself that it may very well pass quickly before considering how to mitigate the current state of affairs.
Because you brought hvala into the conversation (i nema na čemu), I want to talk a little bit about the Serbian word inat. My grandma Vera liked to tell the story of the Serbs in a manner that was fairly similar to Drunk History. As in, beer was involved, and the facts presented check out as well as any history ever does. The moral of every single one of these tales was that when the direct route through a problem is not available, you go over, under, around, or you regroup until you have the resources necessary to move past it. While inat is usually translated as “stubbornness” or “spite,” the meaning in Serbian (and maybe Bosnian, Croatian, and Montenegrin) often has an extra dimension—that of responding to being directly told you can’t accomplish something by using the emotional reaction of “how dare you tell me what I have to, or can’t, do” to fuel your way through (or over, under, around). Inat requires caution and consideration because it is combustible. When untempered by a pause and some solid risk assessment, it can lead you to damage yourself in pointless ways. Grandma Vera also, in her retirement, once wanted to remove a pine sapling from her yard. She was aware that pine saplings have a taproot, and the trunks do not break easily. She refused to fully engage with this set of facts, used a combination of over, under, and around, while the upper part of the sapling went the route of snapping through one of her arm bones, and, though she did get the tree out of the ground, this was very much a case where regrouping would have saved her a significant amount of pain and inconvenience.
Jennifer Lincoln, a board-certified OB-GYN, made a video last year about sex in the weeks after giving birth. The short version is that the general guidance to wait four to six weeks is exactly as you describe it—tradition—but there are several variables that might mean a doctor specifically advises you to wait until a certain time or milestone in healing. If your birth team tells you to wait, ask them for their reasoning for that recommendation. And if they don’t, ask them whether there are medical reasons for you to avoid any particular sexual activities. For instance, if you have stitches from an episiotomy or tearing, you will need to consider whether you risk potentially interfering with wound healing.
Outside of any specific doctor’s orders, the most important thing is to listen to your body when you’re deciding whether to have sex and throughout any sexual interactions. Go slowly so you can pay attention to everything you’re feeling. If something doesn’t feel right, and especially if it hurts at all, stop. Be flexible like the sapling, and be prepared to stop and regroup, or exercise patience, as needed. As for concerns about how sex will feel after a vaginal birth, which I’m guessing are at least partly based on fears of looseness, this column from May has insight from The Vag Doc into Kegel exercises. And try to keep in mind that your abdomen and pelvis take time to settle after giving birth, so whatever sex feels like at first is almost certain to change as that process continues because the muscles in your core and pelvic bowl affect what penetrative sex and orgasms feel like.
Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don’t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication.
Dear How to Do It,
I’m a bisexual man of 37, and I’ve been in a relationship with a trans man for a bit over two years. We have a matching sex drive and have a lot of fun sexually, and usually feel very satisfied when we have sex. The complication comes when I feel a bit limited by what he’s willing to do. Testosterone and his natural sensibility mean most of our sexual activity has to be more on the gentler side, from masturbation and oral stimulation to penetrative sex. Sometimes I have to hold back on my impulses, and it bugs me. Any compromise to be had? Is there a way to make peace with it?
—Yearning to Explore
Dear Yearning to Explore,
I reached out to certified sexologist and relationship and intimacy coach Laura Ramadei for a fresh perspective on why this is bugging you and how to make peace with it. Here’s what she had to say:
When it comes to sexual misalignment, discrepancy, and/or any intimate challenges between partners, I always recommend approaching the situation with curiosity first. That before seeking a solution, we reach for specificity in understanding. The letter speaks to limitation, but it’s unclear what exactly is limited. It might be worth slowing down to consider what’s operating under the surface. Is it a particular act, intensity, or a feeling or experience that feels missing? And why do you think you might crave that? Does this speak to a level of familiarity or a habit you might have formed in your sexual history? Where does your erotic mind come into the picture, and what is it craving? Sometimes the answer is simple: You might just like it rough sometimes, for example. But sometimes it’s tangled up with a personal story or history, or something else entirely—feeling desired without restraint, being desired in a certain way and met at full intensity.
Then, from a practical perspective, there might be an opportunity to experiment and achieve what you’re craving in a way that feels accessible and comfortable to your partner. Intensity, speed, grip, sound, the feeling of being pursued or desired, power dynamics, role play, dirty talk, the choreography or structure of a scene—incorporating different kinds of kink you may not have experimented with yet… A lot of that can open up new possibilities in your dynamic without touching the parts of sex that need to stay gentle for him. It’s worth mapping out, together, which specific elements are the ones his body needs held a certain way, and which are more about pacing or role or energy—because those might have way more room in them than either of you has assumed. The delicious appeal of queer sex is that we don’t get to or have to rely on the same scripts. With different kinds of bodies and sexual fluidity available, there’s a fuller spectrum of options, and you can write new scripts together. I wonder if there’s an opportunity to dive deeper into your desires and collaborate on what you might incorporate that you haven’t already.
Which brings up the question of whether you’re fully having this conversation with your partner. No one can meet a need they don’t know exists. Whether you’ve mentioned this or dug into it, there might be more opportunity to work together to find out what’s possible.
Finally, if you feel you have exhausted these deeper conversations and feel clear that there are simply some things unavailable in this dynamic, this might not be a problem to solve so much as grief to process. If you can find clarity about what exactly you’re mourning, that specificity tends to be what lets you move through it.”
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Dear How to Do It,
Any advice for a hopeless virgin looking to break into the hookup scene? At 21, I know I’m far behind the sexual curve, and that’s never really bothered me—until now. I’m not unattractive or unkind; I have plenty of friends, and several people have expressed interest before; I’ve just never been that into them. Now, with only a year of college left, it feels like my golden years of exploration are slipping me by. Any chance you could hook me up with some hookup tips, especially for meeting other men and women my age?
—Late Arrival (she/her)
Dear Late Arrival,
Twenty-one is not far behind the curve when it comes to sexual interactions. According to this 2025 survey conducted by DatingAdvice and the Kinsey Institute, 22 percent of American adults surveyed had never had partnered sex. Twenty-six percent of Millennial respondents were virgins, and at the time the survey was conducted, the youngest Millennial was 29 years old. That’s a whole eight years older than you are now, and, where your generation is being discussed with terms like “puriteens,” Millennials were perceived and talked about as the second coming of Sodom and Gomorrah. Sure, there’s a curve, but our perceptions—based on what the people we know say about their activities and the ways the media describes larger trends—are often at odds with our actual positions in the statistics. You’ll have to take this summary of personal and secondhand anecdotes on faith; the golden years of sexual exploration can happen in any decade of your life.
The main factors that set you up for a golden era are confidence, being discerning enough to wait for people and scenarios that you feel some degree of desire for, persistence in terms of continuing to put yourself out there and meet people until you feel that desire, and an ability to understand rejection as a communication of the other person’s boundaries instead of a ruling on your worth as a human. You take all of that, fire up an app or sit in a place where casual socializing happens (or even swipe around on the app while you’re en route to such a place if you want to be very efficient), and meet strangers. Eventually something will click, sometimes potential for friendship, sometimes flirting that may lead to sexual interaction, and you see where that goes. If that potential leads to a private location, make sure you’re keeping your wits about you in terms of safety. Then the two of you figure it out. Yes, figuring it out for the very first time is the hardest. Every hookup for the rest of your life will require figuring it out, as will significant changes in your own body and mindset and milestones in any long-term relationship you might participate in.
As long as you and the person you’re hooking up with can notice and communicate when you’re uncomfortable or not enjoying something, and listen to each other when you’re each expressing likes and dislikes and any need for a pause or stop, you’ll have an experience that falls somewhere between realizing five minutes in that you aren’t gelling and switching modes or heading home and a soul-altering round of sexual connection. The details of where and how are unique to your location, what you enjoy, and what turns you on. And your enjoyment and arousal are absolutely crucial to the fun sex you’re seeking out.
—Jessica
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