As an elder millennial in my 40s, the nicest thing I’ve ever expected after sex was to be handed a tissue box, a cuddle, maybe a “That was nice!” Often, it was more like a shirt off the floor and an “I have to be up early tomorrow…” The minutes and hours after sex were never directly unpleasant, it’s just that I didn’t even know that there was more to want. Especially after years of marriage, a “love you” and a roll over to the wall was pretty par for the course.
Then, at 40, I got divorced and was re-released into the dating world — a place I hadn’t been in 16 years. And while dating was mostly more of the same, I slowly found that a few of my new partners, especially partners who were a bit younger or who had been dating longer, approached sex in such a new, open, and different way. Before long, I realized that I’d been in the dark for most of my romantic life.
And a lot of it had to do with what happened after sex.
After a roll in the hay with one new partner, for example, he left the room right after finishing. I was a bit concerned at his abrupt departure until he reappeared two minutes later, holding a steaming hot washcloth, asking if I wanted to clean myself up or if I minded if he did it for me. Box of tissues this was not!
As our relationship continued, the hot washcloths kept coming, along with other thoughtful things: my favorite big T-shirt to put on, a hot cup of tea, and the low-dose antibiotic that I take after sex to prevent my chronic UTIs. Sure, you don’t really think of “low-dose antibiotic to prevent UTIs” as a romantic clump of words, but for me, it was. So thoughtful of him to remember, so thoughtful of him to care about my health without any stigma around the not-sexy subject matter.
And the after-sex care did not stop at the tiny acts of pampering. Mid-pamper, it was time to talk about what had just happened. It was time to check in — to talk about our relationship now that a lot of the pressure had been taken off.
You don’t really think of “low-dose antibiotic to prevent UTIs” as a romantic clump of words, but for me, it was.
While, again, it might not sound romantic to debrief directly after the act, I can’t tell you how much, and how quickly, it improved our sex lives. How affirming to hear, “I loved when you did [blank]”! How awesome to have someone communicate, “I actually had another idea for later…” How refreshing even to have someone mention, “Here’s one thing I’m not comfortable with and why,” and to know I could say the same kind of thing back in a safe space.
After being in a very long-term relationship with someone who, like me, wasn’t used to being open, frank, or communicative — and who, like other millennials, learned growing up that it wasn’t polite to talk about things like bodily fluids or our true feelings — learning about sex aftercare was a revelation. Why wasn’t it so much of a thing when we were growing up?
Well, it really had two different origins: the BDSM/kink world and the new generation of younger adults who were actually taught about consent (and, more broadly, taught to share their feelings about sex out loud). In BDSM, aftercare stemmed from the increased need for communication when partners might be causing pain for pleasure: checking in afterward, both physically and emotionally, was very necessary. And for the younger generation, learning to ask about what’s OK and what’s not before sex kind of naturally led to making sure everyone felt good afterward, too. What a concept! Gen Z seems to have also figured out that the act of sex itself might not be the complete apex of romantic physical relationships, and we are all better for it. They’ve recognized that a massage afterward, or kissing during a check-in, or fixing a little snack is all part of the bigger picture.
I’m once again in a long-term relationship, and aftercare has greatly increased my enjoyment of my sex life and my partner. As a single working mom with young kids, sex could sometimes feel like a chore after a long day. But knowing that it will be followed with a snuggle with TV or a hot bath run just for me makes it more appealing and recharging. At the same time, caring for my partner after sex is a joy for me, too. Especially when I’m returning a favor.
Sarah Aswell is a Deputy Editor at Scary Mommy and Romper, where she leads the news and trending team, the social media team, and Scary Mommy Book Club. She also regularly contributes humor, essays, and original interviews to the site.
