For some of us, no matter how comfortable we are talking about sex, the word intimacy induces a uniquely un-fun strain of nausea. For a while, I assumed this was a personal problem — but, talking to sex and relationship experts and consulting with, what else, TikTok, I once again remembered that I am, in fact, not special. There are a lot of us intimacy-fearing folks out there wondering why our needs are not being met!
Turns out, it could be because we’re not practicing aftercare, as in, actually tending to the emotions that arise post-sex instead of avoiding or wallowing in them alone — who knew?! It’s an important act of self-love that can help us transition outside of a sexual space and back into who we are as humans.
So, what exactly does post-sex aftercare mean?
The bottom line: It’s doing whatever it takes for you and your partner to feel safe, attended to, and comfortable after intercourse. The term originated in the BDSM community as a way to make sure everyone was taken care of post-sex (i.e., removing restraints and blindfolds, providing reassurance, tending to marks and bruises). Particularly for those who are submissives, as psychologist and sex therapist Dr. Kate Balestrieri, points out, “aftercare plays a huge role in helping someone commute from that subspace into their everyday life.”
Think of it as making room to come back into one’s body immediately following a sexual encounter, an opportunity to regulate not just emotions but the neurochemicals that come along with orgasm and sex. Or as sexuality doula, author, and host of the podcast Sensual Self, Ev’Yan Whitney, puts it, “Honestly, it’s the bare minimum.” So, while aftercare may be the norm within the community where the term itself originated, the practice is much more widespread. In fact, a lot of us already participate in aftercare, even if we don’t know it. And if we’re not, we should maybe reconsider.
Why is post-sex aftercare necessary?
There’s actually a science-backed reason why we should all partake in post-sex aftercare. During sex, oxytocin, otherwise known as the love hormone, and dopamine are released. Fun! Until they’re spent. Aftercare is a way of helping your body and mind adjust while those chemicals fade away— not to mention a great tactic to help avoid postcoital dysphoria (PCD), otherwise known as the “post-sex blues,” or the sad or irritable feelings that may arise after having consensual sex. “It’s a comedown, if you will,” says Balestrieri. “Skin-to-skin as well as eye contact are huge catalysts of increased experiences of oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine in the body,” she continues. “All of these neurochemicals are known to create big emotional shifts.”
While PCD is typically most common in women (a 2015 study showed 46 percent of women surveyed expressed feeling sad after sex at some point in their lifetime), 41 percent of men surveyed in a 2019 study conducted by The Journal of Sex and Marital Therapy also reiterated similar sentiments.
Whether you head straight for the shower, order takeout, talk about the experience, or want to cuddle with your partner in total silence, aftercare is a chance to connect and create a space of ease and safety. “As somebody who is autistic, has ADHD, and is a trauma survivor, aftercare is super-important for me,” says content creator Hayley Eigenfeldt in one TikTok on the subject. “Because neurodivergent folks tend to be more susceptible to a fear of rejection, aftercare is specifically super-important for us.”
Picture this: You’ve just had amazing sex (congrats to both and all parties involved), and, whether you like it or not, you are experiencing an array of emotions. But then your partner quickly puts their clothes on, pats you on the head, and walks out. An unfortunate and disrespectful (consciously or not) situation — but not uncommon. Even if the experience is not that mortifying, feeling as though we’re being dismissed in any capacity is hurtful, let alone after such an intimate experience like sex.
“I think we all could do to raise our standards to what we’re truly worth when it comes to the sexual interactions we have with people,” Whitney says. “Particularly for folks who identify as women. It’s inherent in our bodies to defer to other people’s wants, needs, and desires … we have been socialized that way.” “Ruining the mood” or “being a burden” are two threats we, mainly women, know all too well. So, naturally, it makes sense that we might not speak up even when the urge arises.
“Taking care of the person you just had an intimate experience with should be a prerequisite,” Whitney says. Irrespective of what kind of relationship you have — be it a long-term partnership or a one-night stand — aftercare is a practice that, when appropriate, should be tightly weaved into the sexual experience. “When you’re going into sex, it’s an agreement of ‘I’ll take care of you and you’ll take care of me,’’’ notes Dr. Maria Uloko, board-certified urologist and comprehensive sex expert. An agreement that should not be conflated with asking for something more serious from a partner. “It doesn’t have to mean anything about your relationship status,” Balestrieri emphasizes. “Just because you’re asking for nurturing and care in the moment does not mean you’re asking for a commitment.”
Unlike a lot of sexual experiences, aftercare tends to come with a level of intimacy many of us are uncomfortable confronting, particularly when we’re not in a relationship relationship. Asking to have our needs met in a nonsexual way broaches a level of vulnerability we don’t often tread toward. “In Western culture,” Balestrieri highlights, “we have often overcoupled our sense of worthiness with a sense of production. It can be really hard for people to feel deserving of receiving until they feel they’ve earned it.” Moreover, she clarifies, “aftercare doesn’t have to be a giant romance … it’s about doing what you need to regroup in your body together or on your own.”
“I wanted to remind folks that it isn’t exclusive to relationships, so even if they are experiencing casual sex, they too still deserve tenderness and care,” says trauma-informed, inclusive sex educator Jeneka Jool of her viral video addressing aftercare.
So, how do I practice post-sex aftercare?
While there is no one-size-fits-all in the aftercare department, there is one standard that should remain top of mind: Approaching the practice without judgment or shame. “Neurochemicals are awesome,” says Balestrieri, laughing, “but they can also give us a run for our money emotionally.”
Like any other sexual or intimate practice, consent is always at the top of the list. In the aftercare department, that can look like simply asking your partner if it’s something they’re comfortable with and which types of acts are preferred and which are off-limits. Whitney recommends “yes, no, maybe” lists as a jumping-off point. Some ideas: talking about your partner’s body, your partner touching you without asking first, or even just direct eye contact.
Jool emphasizes that “most of us weren’t taught this, so doing it for the first time can feel terrifying.” She notes “cultivating a safe space with partner(s), where compassion and curiosity are leading the charge, can make it a lot easier. Existing in nonjudgmental relationships allows us to lean into vulnerability, which is ultimately how we build our arsenal of healthy, sensual language and desire articulation.”
If this sounds terrifying, try reframing the conversation surrounding aftercare as an act of self-love. “It can give you a kind of bravery that you need in order to have these intimate conversations that might seem challenging,” Uloko says.
Additionally, Jool suggests you begin by practicing on yourself through a tried-and-true game of trial and error. Then, approach your partner (preferably outside of the bedroom) and ask them what aftercare looks like to them. And if they’re unfamiliar as well, resources like Jool’s videos or a round of the Cool to Connect Intimacy deck are a perfect place to start.
A valuable addition to note, however, is that aftercare does not always need to be reliant on another individual helping you meet your needs. It can be done solo. In fact, some prefer it. Plus, it’s definitely not uncommon for you and your partner to have a difference in aftercare preferences, which could involve some alone time post-sex. In that case, Uloko explains, “it all comes down to communication. Part of self-regulating is figuring out what your tolerance is and making a decision from there.” Should the (common) case be that you and your partner have differing desires, Balestrieri recommends alternating as a go-to compromise. “Every other sexual experience, one person gets their go first … you have to be really clear on how you want to prioritize everyone’s needs so that you all feel understood and valued in the process.”
So, while all of the above can serve as valuable tools to hopefully improve your sex life, it’s important to note that afterplay and the conversation that comes along with it may not always feel right, and that’s okay, too. “In some situations, it’ll feel appropriate, and in others, it really may just be like ‘get the fuck out of my bedroom,’” quips Whitney. “Aftercare is so much more than the acts themselves; it’s about the intention behind them,” she reiterates. “The point is to be present.” Regardless of where you stand, speaking up should always be your best friend. “The best sex toy you will ever own is your throat,” Jool says. ”You have to open it (and communicate) to get what you need.” A superpower we often forget we have.
