Why Pleasure Isn’t Selfish
One thing I’ve noticed in my work as a sex and relationship therapist is how uncomfortable people can be with the idea of pleasure. We can talk about stress, communication, responsibilities, and everything we need to get done pretty easily. But ask someone what feels good to them, what they enjoy, or what they want more of, and the conversation can suddenly get harder. For some people, pleasure feels indulgent. For others, it feels selfish. And when we start talking specifically about sexual pleasure, all kinds of messages about what we should want and whose pleasure matters most can show up.
I think a lot of us have become very good at functioning. We work, take care of other people, manage households, raise kids, maintain relationships, and move on to the next thing. Pleasure becomes something we allow ourselves after everything else is finished. The problem is that everything is rarely finished. Over time, we can become disconnected from the simple question: What actually feels good to me?
Sex educator and researcher Emily Nagoski talks extensively about pleasure in Come As You Are and Come Together. One of the ideas I appreciate in her work is moving away from measuring a healthy sex life by how often you have sex, how spontaneously you desire it, or whether you’re having a certain kind of sex. A much more useful question is: Do you actually like the sex you’re having? Pleasure matters. Enjoyment matters. Feeling safe, present, curious, and connected matters. Sex isn’t successful simply because it happened.
This comes up frequently when I work with couples experiencing differences in desire. The conversation often focuses on frequency: “We only have sex twice a month,” or “My partner never initiates.” Those concerns matter, but I also want to know what sex is actually like for each person. If it feels rushed, predictable, pressured, uncomfortable, disconnected, or primarily focused on one partner’s pleasure, it makes sense that someone might stop wanting it. We sometimes try to solve low desire by having more sex without stopping to ask whether the sex itself is worth wanting.
Psychologist and sex researcher Lori Brotto explores another important part of pleasure in Better Sex Through Mindfulness: our ability to actually be present in our bodies. During sex, people are often thinking about how their body looks, whether their partner is enjoying themselves, whether they’re taking too long, whether they’re going to orgasm, or what they need to accomplish tomorrow. It’s difficult to experience pleasure when your brain is evaluating the experience instead of actually being in it.
Learning to pay attention to pleasure can mean noticing touch, pressure, movement, anticipation, emotional closeness, or simply what feels good without immediately judging it. It can also mean giving yourself permission to say, “I like that,” “I want more of that,” or “That actually doesn’t feel good to me.” Those statements aren’t selfish. They give your partner valuable information about how to connect with you.
Psychologist and sex researcher Peggy Kleinplatz and A. Dana Ménard explored this in Magnificent Sex. Their research looked at people who described extraordinary sexual experiences, and what emerged wasn’t a list of sexual techniques or positions. Great sex was associated with being present, connected, authentic, vulnerable, communicative, and able to let go. Really satisfying sex was much less about performing correctly and much more about being genuinely engaged in the experience.
Pleasure doesn’t have to begin in the bedroom either. Good food, music, laughter, movement, affection, a hot shower, time alone, being playful, or doing something simply because you enjoy it can help you reconnect with what pleasure feels like. For someone who spends most of their life taking care of everyone else, even that can feel surprisingly unfamiliar.
Prioritizing pleasure doesn’t mean ignoring your partner’s needs or putting yourself above everyone else. Healthy sexual relationships involve mutuality, communication, consent, and care. Your pleasure belongs in that equation too.
Sometimes instead of asking, “How do I make myself want more sex?” I encourage clients to start with a different question:
“What feels good to me?”
You may be surprised by how much changes when pleasure stops being something you have to earn and becomes something you’re allowed to experience.
Written by Amy Palmer, M.Ed., LPC, CST
Amy Palmer is a relationship and sex therapist in Austin, Texas, serving clients statewide through in person and virtual therapy. She specializes in relationship therapy, intimacy concerns, desire differences, LGBTQ+ affirming care, and non-monogamous relationships.