Sometimes my boyfriend does something I like, and I immediately try to point it out: that, remember that. I want him to recognize what felt good. But the next time, I’m still struggling to explain the basics, and lately even his kisses have started to bother me.
This is a difficult thing to admit about a man I find attractive in so many other ways. I’m around 30; he’s around 40. We met through shared hobbies, and he has a full life of his own: work, a home, friends, things he enjoys doing. He’s active, sweet and thoughtful. I like his hair. I like the way he smells. There is plenty here that makes me want to be close to him.
Our relationship feels balanced, too. We bring different things to it. What one of us finds difficult, the other can often handle, and I have a kind of affection and acceptance I haven’t really known before.
My past relationships were mostly long-term casual arrangements with plenty of sexual chemistry. Feeling physically drawn to someone was usually the easy part. Feeling fully known was harder. I’ve come to understand myself as neurodivergent and avoidant, and I’ve often felt that men enjoyed the athletic, sexy, smart or funny parts of me while putting up with the rest. With him, I feel there’s room for all of me.
He’s also neurodivergent, and he came into this with no relationship experience. He worries about getting things wrong. Clear, detailed instructions help him; having to infer what I want is much harder. In most of our life together, I can meet that difference with patience. During sex, I find myself running out of it.
I don’t want to direct every move. I want some curiosity from him, some initiative, the sense that he has desires of his own to bring to what we’re doing. He’s trying to avoid mistakes, while I’m longing for a little spontaneity.
I’ve tried explaining it through food. The same ingredients can become different meals depending on how you prepare them. Sex can have different moods and rhythms, too. He seemed to understand the comparison. But he eats fairly basic meals and doesn’t really cook, while I love making something up as I go along. Even my metaphor landed in a place where we approach things differently.
Knowing what I like doesn’t make me good at explaining it. A vague request to kiss better gives him nothing useful to do. Breaking a kiss into very specific corrections feels bad in a different way: I’m concentrating on instructions when I want to be enjoying him. I also worry that criticism will leave him more nervous, particularly when he already feels unsure.
This isn’t about measuring him against an ex. I’ve enjoyed different kinds of chemistry; I’m not looking for one exact performance. But I’m beginning to lose touch with what an easy, satisfying kiss feels like, and I don’t want that frustration to turn into resentment.
So when something does feel right, I try to make it clear. He can follow the instruction. What I still don’t know is how to help those individual moments become something he recognizes for himself, without making every kiss another thing I have to explain.
