With all this worrying, it’s nearly impossible to remember the whole point of sex: to have fun.Īll of this pre-coital planning has made me long for sex that doesn’t conform to any script or standard that is ultimately unattainable. The list continues and before I can even consider enjoying myself, I feel a pressure to meticulously plan, to make sure that everything falls perfectly into place. I must tell my personal care attendant a story to explain why I’m having my “friend” over at this hour. I must convince my lover of my sexual viability, making sure that he is fully comfortable with all that entails. Then I start to think about all that has to be done in preparation of that moment. When I think about sex as a gay male with disabilities-a wheelchair-user, a man living with spastic quadriplegic cerebral palsy that causes my muscles to twist, turn, and contort in on themselves-the fantasy only lasts a second before reality hits. You picture the intimacy, the magnetism, the spontaneity driving the moment forward. Your mind wanders to that place where you and your partner (real or imaginary-we’ve all had that John Stamos moment when he feeds you Greek yogurt and sings you the theme from Full House) in the throes of passion, in every possible position. When you think about good sex you picture how hot and steamy two people together can be.
