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So Tell Me About the Last Time You Had Sex
Laying Bare and Learning to Repair Our Love Lives
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Dr. Ian Kerner is a Sherlock Holmes of the bedroom—a sexual detective helping individuals and couples solve the mystery of their sexual distress. His secret weapon? Anaylzing your “sex script.”
Kerner takes a magnifying glass to a recent sexual event, examining the entire sequence of interactions—beginning, middle, and end—from multiple angles. In those details—the what, where, when, and why of the last time you had sex—all the clues of what went wrong are revealed and the mystery of how to create mutual pleasure can be solved. When our sex scripts work, we lose ourselves in mutual pleasure; but when they fail, it’s all we can do not to ruminate over the details. What can be learned by looking at your sex life in action?
With wit and warmth, the nationally recognized sex therapist and author of the smash hit She Comes First shows readers how to tap into their erotic personalities and realize their sexual potential. Dr. Kerner provides the tools and techniques you need to assess, fix, and expand your sex scripts, as well as discuss many common sexual problems that get in the way of happy endings. With the help of decades of clinical insight, the latest sexual science and research, valuable homework assignments, case studies, and more, this insightful and original book strips away discomfort and offers couples not just the ability to talk about sex, but the ability to actually do something about it.
On the topic of writing, the great Russian playwright Anton Chekhov is known to have said, “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass,” which captures beautifully the advice to be specific in one’s use of detail. The same can be said of therapy, in which there is often a lot of talking and telling, but not always a lot of showing. To that end, throughout these pages, I offer clinical vignettes to give you a window into other people’s sex lives. Names have been changed, identifying details and backgrounds have been altered, and stories combined to protect patient confidentiality. Although the case studies have been broken into fragments, so to speak, and the “shards” reshaped into something new, my hope is still to provide those glints of human experience that will enable you to see your own sex life in a new light and illuminate aspects that may have been obscured by darkness. Some stories you might relate to, others might shock you, some may even turn you on. But in the end, it’s your sexual story I’m most interested in.
So, on that note… tell me about the last time you had sex.
Sex in Action
Andy and Eva (both in their early thirties and engaged to be married) came to see me complaining of feeling sexually mismatched, which was frustrating because they felt they were on the same page in so many other aspects of their relationship. Eva, it seems, could only reach orgasm from receiving oral sex and had sought me out as a therapist because of her appreciation of my book She Comes First, which she had given to Andy in order to help him “get cliterate.” But, to Eva’s consternation, Andy still wasn’t getting with the program, and she was angry and frustrated. Why was he so inept? Did he just not care about her pleasure? Was he being passive-aggressive? Did he secretly want out of the relationship?
Andy didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He had read my book twice; he had been listening to Eva’s feedback. So why did she need to constantly interrupt him during oral sex to tell him what to do? Why did she have to be such a sexual boss? And why did it always have to be cunnilingus? Why couldn’t they have intercourse too? Why couldn’t the oral sex be mutual? What about his needs?
“So, tell me about the last time you had sex,” I asked after learning a bit about the situation; and, no surprise, the last time they had sex was much like every time they had sex.
Basically, their usual sex script went like this:
• Eva would announce she was “horny”; they would get in bed, undress themselves, and then Eva would quickly push Andy’s head down toward her waist. Her desire seemed to be internally generated, with little or nothing to do with Andy, and she presented her desire to him much in the way she would announce any other basic need, like eating or going to the bathroom. Their sex script included no eroticism, no kissing, no foreplay or seduction. Straight to cunnilingus.
• And then he’d often be down there for about forty-five minutes to an hour—and largely doing it all wrong, according to Eva, which would only get her even angrier.
(I know what you’re thinking: An hour of cunnilingus? What the…? While that might seem unusual, I typically see more than twenty-five patients per week, and when it comes to a faulty sex script, there’s always some kind of discrepancy or impasse. It may not be forty-five-plus minutes of cunnilingus, but it may be one or the other partner feeling like there’s too much or too little intercourse, not enough or the wrong kind of foreplay; too little imagination, too much pressure; anxiety, panic, pain. Boredom.)
• Finally, Eva would say “enough” and finish herself off with her vibrator; then she would tell Andy he could penetrate her if he really wanted to.
• But usually by this point he would have lost both his erection and his interest.
• Afterward they would lie in bed, feeling a million miles apart, each ruminating over whether it was a mistake to go ahead with the marriage. Eva would often start to cry quietly, and Andy would turn toward her and put a hand gently on her shoulder.
UNDER THE BED
Beneath their sex script, emotions ran deep for Andy and Eva: she felt ignored during sex and believed that he was selfish and uncaring. He felt controlled by Eva, de-masculinized, and inadequate. They both longed for connection. In terms of their overall relationship, the sex script itself was clearly just the tip of the iceberg, but it was also the part we could see, grab hold of, dig into, and potentially change.
What was immediately noticeable about Andy and Eva’s sex script from the get-go was the utter lack of foreplay and eroticism. Without any kind of warming up or percolation of arousal (either physiological or psychological), they were going straight to direct clitoral stimulation. (By “physiological” arousal I’m talking about sensual touch, and by “psychological” arousal I mean engaging the erotic mind—much more on this to come.) No wonder it was taking forty-five minutes or more for Eva to approach orgasm—they were relying on one activity to do all of the work of generating arousal.
As I said, no patient leaves my office without a clear understanding of the problem and an initial homework assignment. Based on those assignments, we continue to refine the sex script from session to session until we have a version that’s working more optimally. In Andy and Eva’s case, I wanted them to take oral sex off the table for a few weeks in order to create a sexual milieu in which they could write a new sexual first act—a prologue to their current way of having sex that would encourage more arousal—so that by the time they transitioned to oral sex, Eva would be that much closer to orgasm.
As Andy and Eva’s current sex script was deeply rooted in physical behaviors, we decided together to focus on the cultivation of “psychological arousal” and tapping into fantasy. Later I will detail the homework assignments I gave them to reach this goal, but, suffice it to say, over the course of a half dozen sessions every two to three weeks, Andy and Eva created a new sex script together, one that built more arousal at the outset, included more sensual activity above the waist, segued into cunnilingus at a more appropriate point in Eva’s arousal arc, and, eventually, also included intercourse.
But just as with playwriting, sex scripts sometime require multiple drafts and revisions. Up until the intercourse part of the sex script, the sessions had been progressing nicely. But Eva feared that once Andy stopped giving her oral sex and transitioned into intercourse that her pleasure would get left behind. This anxiety was causing her to shut down mid–sex script. Once again, Andy didn’t get it: they’d been making progress throughout the sessions. They were talking, adding to their sex script, and working together to build more of an arousal runway. So why were they getting stuck now? Why would he leave her behind? As it turns out, in the transition from oral sex to intercourse, history was behind Eva’s fear.
In one session, I asked Eva to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and try to locate in her body the anxiety and panic she experienced around intercourse—where did she feel it, what did it feel like—and to “float back” in her mind’s eye to other times she had felt that same anxiety and panic. Rather than follow a thought back in time, I wanted her to follow a feeling. Was it old or new?
Eva identified the anxiety physically as a tightening in her gut and tingling in her feet, and then eventually drifted back to a childhood recollection of her father. An avid fly fisherman with traditional views around gender roles, he clearly preferred her older brother and rarely if ever included Eva in their regular weekend outings. Eva recalled once tearfully begging her dad to take her with them, and even trying to impress him with her own painstakingly crafted, hand-tied fly, only to be left behind once again. And so Eva resigned herself to weekend chores with her mother, spent time with her friends, and eventually stopped seeking out her father. But although she found other ways to keep busy and have fun, the sense of rejection and neglect from her father was always there beneath the surface of consciousness—“in the basement,” as I like to say.
Andy was well aware of Eva’s history with her father—he knew the story—but he had never really felt the impact it had on her or connected the story to their sex life. And why would he? More than two decades separated the hurt of Eva’s childhood from her relationship with Andy. But now, for the first time, Andy was able to witness and appreciate Eva’s pain. He understood that oral sex fulfilled her need to be cared for, to be doted on, and to be included—to not be left behind by a primary male attachment figure. This insight gave Andy a new level of empathy and love for Eva, as well as a desire to be tender toward her and soothe her—emotions he could channel into all aspects of their sex script, especially when he was going down on her. It was this tenderness and care that had been missing from his approach to oral sex; his technique hadn’t been the problem. Finding this new emotional connection enabled Andy to experience giving pleasure differently: not as a task to be performed, but as lovemaking. This breakthrough allowed him, for the first time with Eva, to get pleasure from giving pleasure, which manifested in a strong erection he was able to sustain throughout. As for Eva, she was able to finally let go and lose herself in arousal without worry. In this shared place of connection, they were ultimately able to expand the sex script with other behaviors, including, eventually, intercourse, which, for Andy, was a merging with Eva in a way he had always yearned for. Finally, they both felt emotionally safe during sex. Now, regardless of what they were doing, neither was going to get left behind.
Not only did Eva and Andy create a sex script that worked up on the main floor of life in that it delivered pleasure, arousal, orgasm, and connection in ways that accommodated their respective preferences, but it was also a true example of sexual healing, of how sex can soothe emotional wounds that are often resistant to other forms of treatment. It was too late for Eva to change her father’s past rejection, and too late to change the past string of romantic relationships that had seemed to repeat the cycle of neglect, but knowing that she had a partner in the here and now who wouldn’t leave her behind was the balm she needed. And who knew that all that history had been under the surface of their initial sex script? As my friend and colleague sex therapist Suzanne Iasenza often tells her patients, “All sex is group sex. You’re in bed with your partner, your/his/hers/their family dynamics, intergenerational traumas, body image, religious upbringing, gender/sexual identity/race/class experiences, on and on. It’s crowded in bed!”1
My belief: Deconstruct the sex script and you can pinpoint the hurt. Reconstruct the sex script and you can heal that hurt.
Welcome to your first homework assignment. (Forgive the word “homework,” which I know for many of us brings up tedious and anxious associations from our younger years. But now, in the school of life, I promise to try to make these assignments fun and enlightening. And nothing is required, just encouraged. So no pressure.) Now would be a good time to create a dedicated “sex in action” journal for your responses to my prompts. If you and a partner are working through this book together, please journal separately, but then feel free to share your notes with each other, either at the end of each chapter or later when you’ve finished the book. Rather than remind you at the end of each chapter, please always have your journal handy when reflecting upon the homework.
Think about a recent sexual event and describe, in detail, the underlying “sex script”:
• When and where did it occur? Who initiated? You? Your partner? Did it feel mutual?
• What was the context? Waking up in the morning? Coming home from an evening out?
• Were you in the mood for sex at the time? Was there a reason for having sex—like you knew your partner wanted it, or it had been a long time since you last had sex? Did desire come from an internal feeling or an external motivation?
• Once you decided to have sex, how did things get going? Did you undress each other? Or did you undress yourselves? (Is nakedness and its revelation alluring, or has nudity become familiar and banal in your relationship?) Was the lead-up sexy? Erotic? Fun? Or perhaps predictable and routine?
• What happened next? How did you create sexual excitement and arousal?
• Was there any psychological excitement? Did you feel desired? Did you use language that feels specifically reserved for sex? Did you share or engage in some kind of fantasy?
• What behaviors did you engage in? What behaviors didn’t you engage in? What was off-limits and why? Were the activities outercourse based (everything except penis-in-vagina [PIV] or penis-in-anus [PIA] penetration)? Or was there a focus on intercourse? What was the ratio of outercourse activities to intercourse or time spent on outercourse versus intercourse? If you’re a couple who generally engages in intercourse, approximately how many minutes passed from the initiation of sex to intercourse?
• To what extent were you able to disconnect from the world outside of the bedroom and all its attendant stressors? Were you preoccupied or distracted?
• Who had orgasms? Who didn’t? Did it matter?
• What was the emotional and psychological impact of the experience? Did you feel connected to the person you were having sex with? Even if the sex was casual, did it leave you motivated to have more?
• At what point, if any, did things get stalled? Where in the script did anxieties come up? Did any injuries, wounds, and vulnerabilities get exposed? Is there an emotional basement in your sex script? If so, what’s down there?
• In the end, did the sex script work? Was it a success? Was it good sex? Great sex? Just okay sex? Or bad sex? Can you think of what would have made it better?
Take the time to really reflect, so you have a baseline sense of where your sex script is currently and what you’re working with. What issues would you like to work on? How would you like to change your sex script?
Desire and the Call to Sexual Action
It’s always interesting to watch a couple try to remember the last time they had sex. Sometimes both partners instantly know and agree on the when and where, and sometimes it’s been so long they can’t recall, or they’ll debate how long it’s really been. Often the attempt to remember gets them smiling and brings a little levity into the room. And sometimes it’s a wake-up call to really take action. But once there’s consensus on the last time they had sex, the first thing I want to do is get into the details of how things got started. Who initiated? How was sexual interest communicated? When and where did it happen? What was the context? Of all the things in the world you could have been doing at the time, how did it end up being sex? Let’s assume for just a moment that “desire,” or an expressed interest in sex, is the first element of your sex script. Someone initiated. And someone responded. The whole thing could have come to a stop right then and there. But it didn’t. Amazing!
Over the years, I’ve heard thousands of stories of how sex got started:
• A couple wakes up in the morning, and before their stressed-out selves have taken over, they’ll find each other sexually gravitating toward each other, the languorous warmth of touch and body heat leading the way.i
• A couple returns from a fun night out and falls into each other’s arms, seamlessly transmuting the energy that began outside of the bedroom into a focused sexual energy in the bedroom.
• A couple snuggles on the couch, watching TV, and non-sexual touch evolves into touch with sexual intention.
• Another couple can’t keep their hands off each other during a first date, such is the nature of their sexual chemistry.
• Some couples might even make a sex date, and just decide to show up and put themselves through the motions, knowing they’ll be glad they did based on their previous experiences of sex.
For some, sex commenced with a “hot start,” in which excitement was high, with lots of passion; for others, it was a “warm start,” in which they were feeling good, comfortable, not necessarily sexual, but disposed toward sex with a willingness that didn’t need much jostling; and still for others sex began with a “cold start,” in which one or both partners wasn’t really interested but, for some reason or another, consensual sex was still going to happen. (We’ll talk about sexual motivation and “reasons to have sex” later in this chapter.) In addition to the why, when, and where of sex, what I’m also listening for is each partner’s “desire framework,” or how they each uniquely experience and express sexual interest. Do they overlap organically in their desire frameworks, or is there a discrepancy in how they each experience desire?
SPONTANEOUS (OR HIGHLY REACTIVE) DESIRE
Do you tend to always initiate sex? If so, it’s quite possible your experience of sexual desire is clear, palpable, and forthright. You experience a sexual cue, which metabolizes very quickly into arousal to create a strong subjective feeling of desire. For example, you see your partner coming out of the shower and notice immediately that they look really hot in that barely-there towel. That cue—a glimpse of tasty flesh—hits your genitals, and there’s a little oomph, a surge, a jolt, and a gravitational pull toward your partner. And, like a reflex, it all happens in an electrifying instant. Or maybe your partner leans in for a cuddle on the couch, and you immediately start to sexually respond.
Most of my colleagues refer to this type of forthright wanting as “spontaneous desire” or “innate desire,” and to avoid confusion, I’ll continue to use those terms here. But in my sessions with patients, I also like to refer to this type of desire as “highly reactive desire,” as many of my patients relate to the idea of being highly reactive to sexual cues more than they relate to the idea of experiencing desire spontaneously out of nowhere.
Spontaneous, innate, or highly reactive desire is what we see everywhere in the media: two strangers make eye contact across the room and then cut to them passionately ripping each other’s clothes off; sex on the beach; sex in a stairwell. Spontaneous desire is passion unbridled. Desire is depicted as a need, a craving, a wanting, a drive, an urge.
Most early models of sexual behavior assume that spontaneous desire is the norm, and that this innate desire sets in motion the process of human sexual response:
As you can see it’s a pretty straightforward model: Desire leads to Arousal leads to Orgasm leads to Resolution. With many of the couples I work with, there’s often one partner who experiences desire in this fashion: spontaneously, and at the beginning of the process. But what if you don’t experience desire innately? What if desire isn’t the first thing you feel, but more like the second, third, or fourth? What if your desire doesn’t occur at the outset of sexual response, but more toward the middle? The avant-garde French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard wrote that all stories have a beginning, middle, and end, but not necessarily in that order2—and as it turns out, that idea is true of sexual desire as well.
RESPONSIVE (OR MORE DELIBERATIVE, LESS HIGHLY REACTIVE) DESIRE
This may come as a surprise to some, but many people don’t experience desire in a “spontaneous” or “highly reactive” manner. Their desire is more deliberative. It doesn’t have an instant onset; getting in the mood happens gradually. Desire isn’t the first thing they feel, it’s more like the second, third, or fourth down the line. The term clinicians often use for this other common type of desire is “responsive.”
Those with the more responsive form of desire don’t respond to a sexual cue in the same way as a person with innate desire does. For the responsive desire person, it can take multiple cues unfolding over time to generate arousal. This doesn’t mean that they don’t appreciate sexual cues—they can still register an attempt for erotic attention as sexy or sensual—but the cues don’t trigger their arousal system as directly or dramatically as it would for their more spontaneous counterparts. Seeing, smelling, remembering, or noticing something sexy and touching/being touched don’t create that same response, that same oomph, or that same reflex of spontaneous desire. For a responsive-desire person, sexy is observable; for a spontaneous-desire person, sexy is combustible.
People with responsive desire need space and time for sexual cues to percolate. They may need to make a conscious decision to let the process of arousal unfold. They sometimes have to shift their focus away from something else in order to engage and get sexually focused. A sexual cue doesn’t command their attention automatically; it must be regarded deliberately.
Given the cultural emphasis on innate desire, many people who experience desire responsively often feel that there is something wrong with them, and very often they’re stigmatized by their partners for not initiating. They can get labeled as being “not sexual” when in fact they might be highly sexual. They just get going differently. (We’ll discuss partner perceptions when there’s a desire discrepancy in Part V.) The notion that there could be a healthy version of desire other than spontaneous desire is a recent one, and has been championed by feminist sexual scientists like Beverly Whipple and Rosemary Basson, as well as by my colleague Emily Nagoski in her brilliant book Come as You Are. While I have found that this model can apply equally to both genders, the idea of responsive desire was first proposed as a unique way of looking at the complexity of female desire in contrast to male desire, emphasizing the importance of “context”—feeling connected, safe, secure, relaxed, romantic, and so on—to women’s experience of desire.
- “From breaking out of a sex rut to managing mismatched libidos, Ian Kerner is at the forefront of giving us fresh sexy solutions to classic sex problems.”—Esther Perel, author of Mating in Captivity
- "Even in therapy, sex seems like the one topic people need to talk about most but don't know how. Thankfully, renowned sex therapist Ian Kerner has come to the rescue for everyone who has wanted more out of their erotic life but felt stuck, confused, or just plain frustrated. Combining decades of clinical research and real people's stories, this elucidating guidebook is a must-read for anyone interested in creating a richer, deeper romantic life. There is warmth, compassion and clarity on every page."—Lori Gottlieb, New York Times bestselling author of Maybe You Should Talk To Someone
- "Ian Kerner is a voice of equal parts compassion and logic. He speaks equally to men and to women, equally to people with great sex lives and people who are struggling. Ian's work is essential in the world of sex positive writing."—Emily Nagoski, Ph.D., New York Times bestselling author of Come As You Are and Burnout
- “Ian Kerner’s book is refreshingly informative. His compassion and kindness gently disarm shame, promoting the kind of communication and self-interrogation that are, ultimately, key to experiencing joy in sex.”—Peggy Orenstein, New York Times bestselling author of Girls & Sex and Boys & Sex
- “What a fascinating book on the how-to of sex—it’s packed with riveting data and great advice: Either you’ll be gratified that you are doing everything right or you’ll pick up a pile of truly valuable tips. Kerner is a wise man--it's a compelling read.”—Helen Fisher, Ph.D., Author of Anatomy of Love
- “Is the air you breathe oxygenated with a little bit of eroticism?” asks bestselling author and sex therapist Ian Kerner. If it is, then you will savor this book which, (as the title indicates), invites us to look through the window of our last sexual experiences to illuminate our sex lives and what they could become. If it isn’t then you must buy this book today! Kerner has created another instant classic for individuals, couples and their therapists who are willing to consider what last night could mean for tomorrow."—Peggy J. Kleinplatz, Ph.D., Professor, Faculty of Medicine, University of Ottawa, Canada
- "Based on real stories and linked by real data, Kerner's So Tell Me About The Last Time You Had Sex is a look into the sex lives of people that will serve to normalize, validate, and importantly, inspire! This book is for sex therapists, individuals seeking to improve their sex lives, and anyone who wants to turn good sex into great sex!" —Lori A. Brotto, PhD, author of Better Sex Through Mindfulness
- "For any couple struggling to make sense of their fickle sex drives, dwindling desires and disappointing sexual experiences, Dr. Kerner’s latest book is the first step towards living healthier, fulfilling and more pleasurable sex lives. This book will transform not only the sexual relationship you have with your partners but the one you have with yourself. It's a must read for anyone who is ready to let go of their limiting beliefs to make way for sexual discovery and satisfaction."—Emily Morse, Doctor of Human Sexuality, Founder & CEO, Sex With Emily
- “So Tell Me About the Last Time You Had Sex is full of useful advice. . . it's likely every couple can benefit from giving it a read."—Your Tango
- "Much like Ian’s therapy work, his books are action-oriented and provide concrete examples, strategies, and homework to help individuals adapt their behavior in the bedroom."—Dating News
- "A masterpiece! Most people experience sexual difficulties at some point in their lives and Kerner's book is here to help people move through them to create more pleasurable, connecting, affirming sex lives. Highly recommended!" —Debby Herbenick, PhD, author of Because It Feels Good
- “So Tell Me About the Last Time You Had Sex is simply a delightful book! It tells you how to focus down and unpack your sexual dance and make it rock! More than this it's so easy to read: down to earth and so eminently practical. A great acquisition for anyone who wants to improve their sex life.”—Sue Johnson, Author of Hold Me Tight: Seven Conversations for a Lifetime of Love
- “Ian Kerner is the real deal. In So Tell Me About the Last Time You Had Sex, he uses the most essential form of communication—storytelling—to help couples follow the thread from their stuck, unsatisfying scripts back to the deep tender core of vulnerability that underlies them. Filled with practical exercises, Kerner addresses an array of sexual challenges and shows how they can become opportunities for erotic growth. He also inspires his readers to expand their erotic repertoire through flexibility, creative imagination, and more meaningful sexual conversations with themselves and their partners. I can't think of a more hopeful, humane and knowledgeable guide for navigating the sometimes vexing impasses of couple sex.”—Daphne de Marneffe, PhD, author of The Rough Patch: Marriage and the Art of Living Together
- “Kerner dusts off the traditional concept of a ‘sex script’ and polishes it to a high sheen. In his hands, this humble tool becomes a powerful key to deeper sexual aliveness. This is a highly original book. It’s also playful, deeply personal, unfailingly kind, and clearly a labor of love. I can’t think of any other sex writer who can discuss Aristotle’s Poetics together with the neuroscience of orgasm, but Kerner does it all with unfailing skill. Highly recommended!”—Stephen Snyder, M.D., author of Love Worth Making
- "Ian Kerner is a gem of a sex therapist and a masterful storyteller. This book is insightful, practical, accessible, and most of all, helpful. Written in an extraordinarily comfortable and engaging style, Kerner has produced a book that will not only grab the reader's attention and interest, but is sure to enhance the sexual, emotional, and relational lives of its audience. Much like his earlier work, She Comes First, So Tell Me About The Last Time You Had Sex is a book that will endure for years. I am sure to recommend this text to my patients with frequency and enthusiasm!"—Daniel N. Watter, Ed.D., Past-President, The Society for Sex Therapy and Research (SSTAR)
- "Does the sex between your ears or your sheets needs a script update? You’ve come to the right place. Ian Kerner brings together up to the minute sexual science with the highly personal art form of sexual pleasure to give readers a master class in sexual script writing. Full of practical and knowledgeable ideas for rewriting your last forgettable sexual experiences into sexual narratives worth repeating and retelling."—Doug Braun-Harvey, MFT, Co-Author of Treating Out of Control Sexual Behavior: Rethinking Sex Addiction
- “My goodness, he’s done it again. After helping men become “cliterate” with She Comes First and guiding women through the intricacies of male passion with He Comes Next, Ian Kerner fearlessly leads us to explore one another. His guidance is at once fresh, human and state of the art. What is your erotic blueprint? Dispelling one myth after another So Tell Me About the Last Time You Had Sex invites you on a journey toward a deeper, richer and more authentic sexuality.”—Terrence Real, author of The New Rules of Marriage
- On Sale
- Apr 20, 2021
- Page Count
- 368 pages
- Grand Central Publishing