New sex. It’s like unwrapping a delicious present made of raw human experience.
The excitement, the euphoria, the surging tides of hormones, and anticipation — it’s one of the most thrilling adventures that nature has to offer. No matter your age, weight, income, or anything else, new sex makes everybody’s leg shake. Properly done, it’ll make a staunch atheist shout, “Oh my God!”
Granted, there are trauma survivors for whom sex can be terrifying. Being a rookie can make it scary as well.
However, for those who have a certain degree of health and sexual maturity, sharing their naked body with a new partner is a phenomenal experience.
But why is it so damn good? Here are six reasons:
The first and most obvious reason new sex is so wonderful is that it satisfies a whole host of intrinsic urges. Not only is sex at the very base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, but it can easily ascend each level — providing safety, love, esteem, and a desire to be one’s best self.
It’s also true for many people that having sex with a new partner means they haven’t had sex in a while. That is, they are parched for a good swill.
Some people have a bad taste in their mouth from a past relationship. New sex can cleanse that palate. It often helps people get over, forget about, or move on from a painful memory. There is a tremendous emotional release that happens in a fresh sexual encounter — a letting go that cannot be undone.
It’s also way cheaper and more enjoyable than therapy.
Having sex with someone new feels like freedom. Freedom from the past. Freedom to do what you want.
It’s a weighty decision that requires autonomy and personal agency. You’re choosing to do something with significant consequences, and it often feels like being fully alive and responsible for your fate.
Your body is arguably the only physical thing you truly own. Willingly sharing it with another person is to exercise one of your greatest human freedoms. And it feels fantastic.
New sex is all about new sex. It’s the main thing — unfettered by old resentments or interactions — free from judgment or disappointment.
A new couple hasn’t unpacked their emotional baggage and discovered each other’s dark places just yet. This could very well be the most physically attracted to each other they will ever be in their lives.
It would certainly explain why people bang like rabbits when they first get together.
New experiences activate specific processes in the brain that are not the same for familiar activities (see Dr. Joe Dispenza’s Evolve Your Brain). During any novel experience, the endocrine system is primed to fight, flee, or freeze. It’s a neurochemical event that can be delightfully intoxicating.
With familiarity and comfort, this physiological treat goes away, which could explain the phenomenon of a midlife crisis. But that’s neither here nor there.
Vulnerability is the price of admission to a real relationship. It’s the cost of true intimacy. Vulnerability is courage, strength, and honesty. It gives others permission to be themselves, builds trust, and brings people closer together. I think vulnerability is one of the most attractive human qualities there is.
When we strip down to our birthday suit and share our whole self with a new person — physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually — this has to be the greatest act of vulnerability we are capable of. And it’s one of the most intimate experiences on the planet.
Commitment Changes Things
In a committed relationship, you may not be as thirsty as you once were. Perhaps vows seem less cathartic and freeing than young romance. Of course, sex isn’t the main event in your relationship anymore. If it were, that would be a flimsy house of cards. Routine comforts replace new adventures and activities that once got your heart racing are now completely invulnerable.
Exposing your body for the first time was such a tender and vulnerable moment. Now you can discuss replacing the vacuum cleaner, butt-ass naked, without skipping a beat.
The philosopher Heraclitus said that you can’t step into the same river twice; you will not be the same person, and it will not be the same river.
Sex with a long-term partner will not be the puppy-love of yesteryear. The thousandth time cannot be like the first time. That’s not how reality works.
It’s not uncommon for one partner to bemoan the loss of those magical moments like it’s their lover’s fault for changing.
They both changed.
And so did everything.
What Can I Do?
First, know that I am not suggesting you become a Tinder-jockey or avoid commitment forever. I’m merely making observations about why new sex seems comparatively magical. Maturing out of that phase of your relationship is healthy and appropriate. I recommend it.
If your goal is to have a long-lasting commitment and great sex, discover how you can breathe new life into the things that made it so steamy in the first place.
- How could you cultivate a stronger desire for one another?
- Are you able to let go of the mental stories of your lover and be fully present with him or her?
- What emotional risks are you willing to take, knowing that vulnerability brings you closer together?
You and your partner will have to explore these questions for yourselves.
If you want that new sex.