Okay, I didn’t literally ban the word sex.

But I do challenge my clients not to use it for a month.

As a sex counselor, I spend my days talking about—well, sex. It’s my entire job. And yet I’ve come to realize that the word “sex” is one of the biggest obstacles to people actually connecting, experiencing pleasure, and getting what they want.

Here’s the thing: Words matter.

When I say “sex,” what do you feel in your body?

If you’re the partner who wants it more, you might feel longing. Frustration. That sense of the one thing you never get—like Gollum obsessing over the ring.

If you’re the partner who wants it less, you might feel dread. Pressure. Your body might tense up. You might feel what I call “the knot” forming in your chest—that combination of guilt, resentment, and shutdown.

The word itself creates a reaction in your body before you’ve even talked about what you actually want.

And that’s the problem. The word “sex” collapses too much under one concept. It’s loaded with assumptions, expectations, baggage, and scripts that may or may not match what either of you actually wants in this moment.

So here’s my experiment: What happens if you throw out the word “sex” for a while?

What happens if instead you ask: “Do you wanna play with me?” Or “Do you wanna build a snowman?” (Yes, I’m stealing from Frozen. It works.)

What happens in your body when the word changes?

The Problem: We Don’t Have the Same Definition

Here’s what happens in my office:

One partner says: “We never have sex anymore.”

The other partner says: “That’s not true! We were intimate last week.”

First partner: “That wasn’t sex. That was just… touching.”

And suddenly we’re in a fight about what “counts.”

The word “sex” means different things to different people. And often, neither person has examined what it means to them.

For some people, sex means:

• Intercourse
• Leading to orgasm (usually his)
• A certain level of passion or intensity
• A specific script they’ve been following for years

For others, sex means:

• Any physical intimacy
• Connection and closeness
• Touch and pleasure
• Being naked together

For others still, sex is:

• The thing their partner wants that they don’t
• An obligation they’re failing to meet
• A performance they don’t have energy for
• The source of all the tension in their relationship

No wonder you’re not on the same page. You’re using the same word to mean completely different things.

What Happens in Your Body When Someone Says “Sex”?

This is what fascinates me as a somatic practitioner: The word “sex” creates an immediate physiological response.

If you’re the lower-desire partner (LDP):

Someone says “Do you wanna have sex?” and your body:

• Tenses up
• Feels pressure in your chest
• Shuts down
• Gets angry or defensive
• Experiences what I call “the knot”—that tangle of guilt (I should want this), resentment (why is this always about them?), and dread (here we go again)

You’re already in fight-or-flight before you’ve even talked about what they actually want.

The word “sex” has become a trigger. It doesn’t mean pleasure or connection to you. It means obligation, performance, pressure.

If you’re the higher-desire partner (HDP):

Someone says “Do you wanna have sex?” and your body:

• Hopes (maybe this time they’ll say yes)
• Braces for rejection
• Fixates on this ONE thing
• Feels like Gollum obsessing over the ring—”my precious”
• Experiences everything else as “not enough”

You’ve made “sex” into the pinnacle. The one thing that would make everything okay. The measure of whether you’re wanted.

And when your partner says no to “sex,” you can’t hear that they might say yes to touch, closeness, play, pleasure. Because you’re so fixated on the one definition you’ve created.

Both of you are trapped by the word. Both of you are having bodily reactions to language, not to what you actually want or don’t want.

The Experiment: What If You Used Different Words?

Here’s what I ask my clients to try:

For one month, don’t use the word “sex.”

Instead, get specific. Ask for what you actually want:

“Do you wanna play with me for a bit?”

“Want to build a snowman?” (Seriously. The playfulness of this question changes everything.)

“Can I touch you?”

“Want to make out?”

“I’d love to go down on you if you’re interested.”

“Want to be close and naked and see what feels good?”

“Can we breathe together and touch each other?”

“I want to feel your skin.”

Notice what happens in your body when the language shifts.

What happens for the LDP:

When your partner asks “Do you wanna play?” instead of “Do you wanna have sex?”:

Your body might… soften.

The knot might loosen just a little.

You might actually be able to feel if you want touch, closeness, pleasure—because you’re not immediately triggered by the loaded word “sex.”

You might discover: “Actually, I do want to make out. I do want to touch. I just didn’t want the full scripted performance that ‘sex’ has come to mean.”

The different language lets you access your actual wanting.

What happens for the HDP:

When you ask “Can I touch you?” instead of “Do you wanna have sex?”:

Your body might… release the fixation.

You’re not asking for the ONE THING. You’re asking for something specific and immediate.

You might discover: “Actually, connection is what I want. Being desired is what I want. Pleasure together is what I want. And there are many ways to get that.”

The different language helps you widen your perspective beyond the narrow definition you’ve been stuck on.

Both of You Can Meet in the Middle

Here’s what becomes possible when you change the language:

Scenario with “sex”:

HDP: “Do you wanna have sex?” LDP: immediate bodily shutdown, the knot forms “I’m tired. Maybe another night.” HDP: feels rejected, fixates on the ONE THING denied Both: disconnected, frustrated, the cycle continues

Scenario without “sex”:

HDP: “I’d love to be close to you. Want to play for a bit and see what feels good?” LDP: body doesn’t shut down, can actually feel into what they want “I’m not in the mood for intercourse, but I’d love to touch each other.” HDP: isn’t fixated on one definition, can hear the yes “That sounds perfect.” Both: Get to be intimate in a way that works for both, call it whatever they want

You’re meeting where you both are. Not where you think you “should” be.

It’s Not About What Kind of Sex You Have

Let me be clear: I’m not telling you what kind of intimacy to have.

Passionate sex? Great. Tender sex? Great. Playful sex? Great. Intense sex? Great. Gentle sex? Great.

The point isn’t to prescribe what your intimacy should look like.

The point is: The word “sex” is getting in your way.

It’s creating bodily reactions (shutdown for one, fixation for the other) before you’ve even talked about what you actually want.

It’s collapsing too much under one concept—all your hopes, fears, expectations, scripts, shoulds, and baggage.

It’s making you both react to language instead of connecting with your actual bodies and desires.

What If “Sex” Could Mean Anything?

Here’s the freedom that comes from throwing out the loaded word:

You can have passionate, intense, sweaty, intercourse-focused encounters… and call it “sex” if you want.

You can have tender, gentle, slow, connection-focused encounters… and call it “sex” if you want.

You can have playful, exploratory, curious, toy-involved encounters… and call it “sex” if you want.

You can make out for 20 minutes and both feel satisfied and connected… and call it “sex” if you want.

The question isn’t “Did we have sex?”

The question is: “Did we both get what we wanted? Do we both feel good about what happened? Are we both satisfied and connected?”

If yes, then call it whatever you want. Or don’t call it anything at all.

The Language Creates the Possibility

Words aren’t neutral. They shape what we think is possible.

When you only have one word—”sex”—you only have one concept, one script, one set of expectations.

When you expand your language, you expand your possibilities:

“Play” suggests curiosity and exploration. “Touch” suggests presence and sensation. “Close” suggests connection without agenda. “Pleasure” suggests mutual enjoyment. “Build a snowman” suggests playfulness and invitation without pressure.

Different words create different somatic experiences.

Your body responds to “Do you want to play?” differently than it responds to “Do you want to have sex?”

Your partner’s body responds to “Can I touch you?” differently than it responds to “Do you want to have sex?”

And in that difference, there’s room for both of you to actually want what you’re creating together.

What My Clients Discover

When people do this experiment—when they stop using the word “sex” for a month—here’s what they tell me:

From LDPs:

• “I realized I DO want intimacy—I just didn’t want the specific thing that ‘sex’ had come to mean.”
• “When my partner asks if I want to play instead of if I want to have sex, my body doesn’t shut down immediately.”
• “I can actually feel what I want now, instead of just reacting to pressure.”
• “We have more intimacy now because I’m not triggered by the word.”

From HDPs:

• “I was so fixated on ‘sex’ as the one thing I wasn’t getting that I couldn’t see all the intimacy my partner WAS offering.”
• “When I ask for something specific instead of ‘sex,’ my partner says yes more often.”
• “I realized I want connection and desire—and there are lots of ways to experience that.”
• “The pressure I was putting on us both lifted when I stopped making it about THE ONE THING.”

From both:

• “We’re meeting each other where we actually are instead of where we think we should be.”
• “It’s not all-or-nothing anymore. There’s nuance.”
• “We can both get what we want now.”
• “And yes, we can still call it ‘sex’ if we want to. But we don’t have to.”

So, Did I Really Ban It?

No. My clients still use the word “sex” sometimes. I use it too (I’m a sex counselor, after all).

But I challenge them to notice what happens in their bodies when they use it.

I ask them to examine what they actually mean when they say it.

And I invite them to experiment with different language—just to see what becomes possible.

Because words matter. They create reactions in your body. They shape what you think you can ask for and what you think you’re allowed to want.

The word “sex” is loaded with so much—examined and unexamined—that it often becomes the barrier instead of the bridge.

So try throwing it out for a month.

Try asking for what you actually want in terms of touch, pleasure, closeness, play.

Try noticing what happens in your body when the language shifts.

You might discover that you both want more intimacy than you thought.

You just needed different words to access it.

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Ready to experiment with language and access what you actually want?

Individual sex counseling helps you understand what’s happening in your body when you hear “sex” and discover what language actually creates desire, connection, and pleasure for you. Learn more about sex counseling here.

For couples stuck in reactive patterns around “sex,” couples counseling creates space to experiment with different language, understand each other’s bodily responses, and find ways to meet that work for both of you. Learn more about couples counseling here.

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Dr. Lori Davis is a Doctor of Nursing Practice, board-certified Family Nurse Practitioner, and AASECT Certified Sex Counselor. She specializes in somatic approaches to sexuality, helping individuals and couples understand how language shapes bodily experience and discover what actually creates desire and satisfaction. She teaches sexuality counseling at the University of Michigan.

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Further reading:

• When Sex Feels Like a Chore: Reclaiming Pleasure as Self-Care
• Why Don’t I Want Sex Anymore? Understanding Responsive Desire
• My Partner Never Wants Sex: Understanding Mismatched Desire
• The Knot: When Desire and Resentment Get Tangled (when you write this one)
• 5 Intimacy Practices for Couples That Actually Work