What Is Sex… To You? Why Defining It for Yourself Is Essential

By Dr. Denise Renye

You think sex is just penetration and orgasms. Why?

That line, spoken by Sonya—the palliative care social worker in the show Dying for Sex, played exquisitely by Esco Jouléy—landed in my chest like a bell. In one moment, she names the narrow script so many of us are handed... and in the next, she opens a door to something much wider:

“Sex is a wave.
Sex is a mindset.
Sex is the nonlinear emergent phenomenon when two or more beings—they touch energy fields.
Here’s the thing about your body.
You have to listen to it.
Yes, maybe it’s saying something you don’t want and you don’t understand.
But give it a chance and listen to it.”

This—this—is why I became a sex therapist.

Because sex is not one-size-fits-all.
Because so many people are walking around trying to fit themselves into a version of sexuality that doesn’t actually belong to them.
Because knowing what sex means to you—how you want to relate to it, how you want to share it, how it lives in your body—is essential to knowing yourself.

And most of us were never really invited to figure that out.

Sex Means Different Things to Different People

For some, sex is connection.
For others, it’s exploration.

For others still, it’s release, relief, surrender, embodiment, dominance, play, pleasure, healing, transcendence.
Sometimes it's sacred. Sometimes it's messy. Sometimes it's funny. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes it’s holy.

And for many, it can also be scary, triggering, or confusing—especially if there’s been trauma, betrayal, pain, or shame entangled in their sexual story.

But no matter what your story has been, you deserve the space to ask:

What is sex for me?
What do I want it to be now?
Who do I want to share it with—and how?

These are powerful questions.
They’re also deeply personal.

Freedom Within or Outside the Container

One of the things I love about Dying for Sex is the way it showcases a wide definition of sexual agency. Molly is facing a terminal diagnosis—and rather than collapse into despair, she sets out on a journey of sexual liberation.

And Sonya, the social worker, reminds her—and all of us—that sex doesn’t have to look one particular way. Whether you want to explore with many people or deepen within the container of a committed relationship… it’s all possible. It’s all valid.

The key is: you get to decide.

Why Listening to Your Body Matters

Sex, like everything alive, moves.

It’s a wave. It changes over time. It grows with you.

And to stay in tune with it, you have to stay in tune with yourself. That means listening to your body, even if it’s saying something uncomfortable. Even if it’s speaking in a language you don’t yet understand.

That’s what healing looks like.
That’s what embodiment looks like.
That’s what true sexual agency requires.

We All Deserve to Know Ourselves on This Level

No one else can define sex for you.

Not your culture.
Not your past.
Not your partner.
Not porn.
Not even your therapist.

But a good sex therapist—one who honors your values, your experiences, and your growth—can walk beside you as you uncover what sex means to you. Not what it should mean. Not what it has meant. But what you want it to mean now.

Because sex, at its best, is not just an act.
It’s a way of being in touch—with your aliveness, your truth, your connection, your body, your boundaries, your becoming.

You deserve that level of knowing.

And that’s why I do this work.

Journal Prompts to go Deeper

1. What is sex to me—right now?
Write freely about what sex means to you at this point in your life. Let go of any definitions you were taught. What comes up when you think about sex emotionally, physically, energetically, spiritually? What words, images, sensations, or stories arise?

2. How do I want to feel during sex—and after?
Explore the emotional and embodied experience you most long for during sexual connection. Safe? Wild? Free? Desired? Tender? Powerful? Be honest. This prompt can clarify your values, boundaries, and unmet needs.

3. What parts of me have I silenced when it comes to sex?
Reflect on which desires, questions, or truths you’ve pushed down, ignored, or been afraid to name—whether due to shame, fear, trauma, or someone else’s expectations. What would it feel like to give voice to those parts?