Abstract
Recent sexualities scholarship generally frames men as adhering to narratives of sexual assertion and constructions of hegemonic masculinity. However, research on masculinities notes scripts are changing and providing mixed messages regarding the expression of sexualities for heterosexual men. Given this, we look closely at sexual scripts in initiation of sexual intimacy as a means of exploring transformation in sexualities and understanding men’s interpersonal/intrapsychic narratives as expressions of masculinities. Based on in-depth interviews with sixty-nine heterosexual men, ages twenty to fifty-nine, we found that interviewees recounted feelings of readiness and desire for sex as boys and young men. We also found that though, as boys and young men, interviewees felt ready for and desired sex, yet in first experiences, they shared they were anxious and usually waited for partners to initiate or for clear clues partners were ready. Men’s accounts reflect concerns with sexual performance and the incongruence of sexual scripts at the cultural and interpersonal/intrapsychic levels, as well as a private expression of masculinity, reserved for situations with intimate partners.
Keywords
Recent scholarship on heterosexual young men’s sexualities mostly frames men as adhering to narratives of conquest and gratification as well as documenting pressures to enact hegemonic constructions of masculinity (e.g., Connell 1995; Holland et al. 2004; Kimmel 2008; Masters et al. 2013; Pascoe 2007; Reid, Elliot, and Webber 2011; Sweeney 2014). Research also shows enduring support for belief in sexual double standards such as that men prefer casual sex and women prefer sex in relationships or that men are expected to initiate sex (Doull et al. 2013; Masters et al. 2013; Reid, Elliot, and Webber 2011; Sakaluk et al. 2014; Seal and Ehrhardt 2003). Yet studies also show men’s increasing interest in egalitarian relationships and sexual interactions (Dworkin and O’Sullivan 2005, 2007; Lamont 2014, 2015; Seal et al. 2008), as well as a desire for emotional connection with sexual partners, even in casual encounters (Sandberg 2013; Sanders 2008; Seal and Ehrhardt 2003). Scholars note such changing gender norms and sexual scripts have created ambiguity and anxiety for heterosexual men (Allen 2003, 2007; Bridges 2014; Bridges and Pascoe 2014; Cook 2006; Lamont 2015; Sanders 2008). This plays out in contemporary political and social culture as well, as sexual harassment and inappropriate touching are framed as misreading of situations or misunderstanding of women’s readiness and interest in sexual contact.
Given this, we investigate how sexual scripts (Simon and Gagnon 1984) play out in first sexual encounters among men of different generations as a way of illuminating tensions between changing cultural norms and individual practice. Looking at men from different generations, born before/in or after 1975, enables us to see shifts in sexual scripts as influenced by larger cultural narratives. In this article, we describe heterosexual men’s accounts of initiation of sexual intimacy as a means of understanding both the process of initiation and the relevance of changing discourses of masculinities, gender, and sexualities in sexual interactions. In particular, we expand on the literature on multiple masculinities (Connell 1995) and hybrid masculinities—“the selective incorporation of elements of identity typically associated with various marginalized and subordinated masculinities and—at times—femininities into privileged men’s gender performances and identities” (Bridges and Pascoe 2014, 246)—to explore situational masculinities. We look at how context impacts the expression of masculinity by examining the notion of private masculinities—that is the way men demonstrate masculinity in intimate situations, where they are less likely to be policed. We argue that the scope of the “audience” impacts the performance of masculinity, as does the nature of the interaction. Thus, intimate situations, particularly when men lack experience or self-confidence, set the stage for the performance of private masculinities, which can be very different than the way the same man is expected to or does perform masculinity publicly.
Based on in-depth interviews with sixty-nine heterosexual men between the ages of twenty to fifty-nine, we find that though, as boys and young men, interviewees said they felt ready for and desired sex, in their first sexual experiences, the majority reported waiting for partners to initiate or for clear cues partners were ready. Many did this not due to pressure from partners or because they wanted to wait to have sex. Rather, doing so allowed them to avoid emasculation that might come from rejection or an unskilled performance. Men’s accounts reflect anxieties about sexual performance and concerns about rejection as well as cultural and generational influence and changing ideas about women’s sexualities. Their narratives also demonstrate incongruities between privately expressed thoughts and behavior and larger public stories about masculinities and sexualities (Dworkin and O’Sullivan 2007; Masters et al. 2013).
Situational Symbolic Interaction and Sexual Scripts
The tradition of situational symbolic interactionism focuses on ways actors define situations and create meaning in social interaction (Longmore 1998). Building on the classical works of Cooley (1964), Mead (1934), and Thomas (1931), this approach looks closely at the ways in which joint activities and perceptions of others’ perceptions shape behavior. These theorists emphasized taking the role of others and seeing ourselves as others do when defining a situation. Such assessments thus allow us to construct shared definitions of situations, so we act in ways that do not result in losing “face” (Goffman 1959).
Scripts facilitate interaction, as they provide expectations for behavior in a given situation. Simon and Gagnon (1984) advanced the idea of sexual scripts as a means for understanding processes of sexual decision-making. Sexual scripts operate on three levels: cultural scenarios, interpersonal scripts, and intrapsychic scripts. Cultural scenarios are macro ideas about sexualities, which include dominant narratives about gender, heteronormativity, and alternate narratives about less typical or less public expressions of sexuality. They provide structures for expected sexual encounters and provide norms for initiation of sexual intimacy. Cultural scenarios can thus instigate anxiety when men do not feel they can successfully imitate them. For instance, boys who learn about sex by watching pornography may feel they should mimic what they see and feel nervous and incompetent in trying to live up to such a performance (Dines 2010).
Interpersonal scripts guide interaction between sexual partners but are informed by cultural scenarios, so that private interactions have public influences. A man’s public expression of sexual interest is an example of how internalized cultural scenarios create interpersonal scripts. Intrapsychic scripts are the cognitive understanding and processing of both interpersonal scripts and cultural scenarios. Intrapsychic scripts are thus the conversations individuals have with themselves, as they negotiate sexual situations and consider others’ reactions to their behavior. For instance, Holland et al. (2004) asserted that both men and women are guided by a “male-in-the-head”; that is an intrapsychic script that privileges men’s sexual power and sexual desires and defines sex as a masculine experience. Such dominant ideologies are expected to influence heterosexual men’s definition of the situation when pursuing sexual intimacy.
Sexual scripts, particularly cultural scenarios, are abstract and provide guidelines but do not dictate sexual interactions. A common misinterpretation of Simon and Gagnon’s work is to see scripts as rigid directions people must follow, without agency. Sexual scripts can and do change, and alternate scripts are created in interaction (Carlson, Hanson, and Fitzroy 2016). In fact, a significant component of sexual script theory and the situational symbolic interactionist tradition is the importance of recognizing society as ever-transforming and change as made possible and visible through sexual interaction (Dworkin and O’Sullivan 2007; Longmore 1998; Masters et al. 2013). Thus, we explore the ways men negotiate and create sexual scripts in their first sexual experiences and how these scripts elucidate expectations for initiation of sexual intimacy, which both challenge and reinforce dominant gender ideologies. First sexual experiences provide an opportunity to explore the performance of masculinity in a private context. As masculinity is demonstrated and its public display is a central component of hegemonic masculinity (Connell 1995), exploring narratives around moments of heterosexual intimacy allows for clarification of how it is practiced in private settings, particularly when there are no other men around to witness the performance.
Private and Public Masculinities and Sexual Selves
The presence of alternate masculinities, that is, masculinities that deviate from hegemonic constructions of masculinity, is evident in studies of men’s sexualities. Yet the way these play out in sexual interaction is underdeveloped. Existing studies reveal the complexities of men’s sexualities and multiple masculinities (e.g., Bridges 2014; Bridges and Pascoe 2014; Carlson, Hanson, and Fitzroy 2016; Connell 1995; Lodge and Umberson 2012; Pascoe 2007) and also their variance from hegemonic cultural narratives (Pascoe and Bridges 2016). In this vein, using a situational symbolic interactionist approach, we explore accounts of initiation of sexual intimacy to understand how heterosexual men balance norms of masculine sexual assertion with anxiety, fear of rejection, assertive women partners, evolving sexual selves, and changing constructions of masculinities. In other words, we look at how heterosexual men construct private sexual selves in the shadow of hegemonic masculinities and dominant cultural scenarios.
Bridges (2014) suggests that privileged younger men’s displays of masculinities show hybrid masculinities. He noted that having privilege, whether by race, sexual orientation, or both, provides greater freedom for alternate, nonhegemonic expressions of masculinity. Bridges, among others, also observed that hybrid masculinities can exist within the same person. Meaning, men can construct masculinities that incorporate dominance and aggression as well as sensitivity and empathy. We add to this literature by looking at the ways in which these expressions of gender coexist, arguing for the importance of examining the scope of the audience in front of whom masculinity is performed and the task at hand. When heterosexual men incorporate more egalitarian and gender-fluid behaviors in interpersonal sexual interactions, we see support for the idea that men can play both masculine and feminine roles, as initiator or object of desire (Dworkin and O’Sullivan 2005; Masters et al. 2013).
We offer the concept of private masculinities as a means of making sense of how boys and men may do gender in private, intimate situations, without feeling conflicted about their public expressions of masculinity in other contexts. Qualitative studies of teen boys and young men note the demonstration of public sexual confidence, repudiation of homosexuality and femininity, sexual objectification, and harassment of girls, but private tenderness toward girlfriends (Pascoe 2007), privately expressed anxiety about early sexual experiences (Martin 1996), desire for romance (Allen 2007), love, commitment, and trust (Allen 2003), as well as an interest in being viewed as an object of desire, at least at times (Dworkin and O’Sullivan 2005, 2007). In effect, men seem to be expected to display a hybrid masculinity that fuses public and private components—which call for different and contrary ways of performing masculinity. It is useful to categorize such expressions of masculinity based on the space in which they are performed. For heterosexual young men, it is easier to be “romantic” around partners who encourage such feminine expression than it is to talk about romance or intense feelings for girlfriends around peers who might not only discourage but shame such expression (Allen 2003, 2007; Pascoe 2007). As Kimmel (2005) noted, men fear the revelation that they are not “man enough,” so they feel pressure and expectation to consistently demonstrate or prove their support for hegemonic masculinity. Thus, in public, boys and young men are likely to balance expressions of tenderness or affection for a girlfriend with “displays of hard masculinity” (Allen 2007, 146) or with the awareness that having a girlfriend can “serve as a masculinity resource, bolstering a boy’s claim on heterosexuality” (Pascoe 2007, 159). Thus, we focus on how discourses of initiation of sex contain narratives of private masculinity.
Gender Norms for Initiation of Intimacy
It is critical to interpret heterosexual sexual interactions as dyadic interactions with two actors, stereotypically expected to play out a binary scenario with masculine and feminine parts. As Lamont (2015) noted, “Women can shape men’s behaviors to some extent by promoting certain masculinities as desirable in romantic relationships. As such men may construct their masculinity in relation to what they believe women want” (p. 280). In acting assertively or passively, partners not only construct gender for themselves but also for their partners.
Initiating sex is consistent with norms of masculinity. Research finds perpetuation of this expectation (Reid, Elliot, and Webber 2011; Sakaluk et al. 2014). Girls and young women, in turn, are expected to be sexual gatekeepers, charged with restricting and controlling access to sex (Masters 2010; Reid, Elliot, and Webber 2011; Sakaluk et al. 2014; Seal and Ehrhardt 2003; Seal et al. 2008). Girls or women who pursue or initiate sex, who give in too soon or easily, are often judged or shamed, particularly when sex happens outside of a relationship (Masters et al. 2013; Reid, Elliot, and Webber 2011; Seal and Ehrhardt 2003).
There are few studies that focus specifically on the initiation of sex. Carpenter’s (2005) study of virginity loss provides a foundation for understanding the importance of first intercourse and how having an experience that does or does not match with expectations can have consequences for sexual relationships and sexual selves going forward. However, her focus is on the meaning of virginity loss, as a gift, stigma, or rite of passage, rather than who initiated. Other scholars have looked at the initiation of courtship, demonstrating how changing gender roles filter down to changing sexual scripts, such as who asks whom out on dates, who sets the pace of intimate encounters, and who directs the course of the relationship (e.g., Lamont 2015; Seal et al. 2008). Seal and Ehrhardt (2003) noted that while some men appreciated “female-initiated” courtship because it confirmed women’s interest in them, they did not like sexually assertive women. This was because when men sought relationships, they were focused on emotional intimacy and felt sex too soon hampered bonding. Dworkin and O’Sullivan (2005, 2007) interviewed heterosexual men in relationships and found that while more men reported initiating sex than their partners, the majority who initiated wished their partners would initiate more often as validation of their desirability. They also noted that the expectation that men always want and should be ready for sex can create performance anxiety and put pressure on men.
Although existing studies demonstrate gender patterns in initiation of sex and sexual relationships, they do so in studies of existing relationships or after interviewees have had previous sexual experience. Previous sexual experiences afford opportunity to develop and test out a variety of interpersonal sexual scripts and gain confidence in sexual performance. What has been missing in the literature is a close look at men’s initiation patterns in first sexual experiences. Studying first sexual experiences is important because it allows us to examine interpersonal displays of gender, before an individual gains experience and practice. Carpenter and DeLamater (2012) argued that sexuality is constructed from both positive and negative experiences during one’s lifetime, which have a continuous and cumulative impact. Positive earlier experiences often yield greater agency later in life, while deleterious experiences can produce a negative sense of sexuality going forward. By looking at narratives of initiation of sex in first sexual experiences, we are able to explore both interpersonal and intrapsychic sexual scripts as a way of understanding how men not only experience these situations and their cumulative impact going forward but also what they tell us about persistence or resistance of traditional gendered scripts.
Method
Between 2014 and 2016, the first author, along with several research assistants (RAs), conducted in-depth interviews with ninety-four heterosexual men aged twenty to sixty-eight for a larger study on men’s sexualities. This article focuses on interviews with sixty-nine men in their twenties to fifties (see Table 1 for demographics). Interviews with men in their sixties and several men in their forties to fifties were not transcribed at the time of analysis and so are excluded here. We believe the present sample is robust and our careful analysis of data allowed us to identify patterns among these sixty-nine men.
Demographics of Interview Participants.
Note: Socioeconomic status was based on participants’ self-definitions. Of the men who had some college, fourteen were current students.
About half of the men in their twenties were recruited through a university research participant pool and these men received credit in fulfillment of a course requirement. The remaining participants were recruited by public postings on university websites and Craigslist and through e-mail/social media solicitations. Interviewees were paid US$25 for their time. Although some interviews were conducted face-to-face, most interviews were conducted via phone. Phone interviews yielded rich data and we surmise that men felt comfortable with the “anonymous” feel of the phone interview, where they could speak without being seen (Fenig et al. 1993; Sturges and Hanrahan 2004). Some interviewees commented that they would not have shared as much intimate information had the interview been face-to-face. Interviews averaged about two hours. As part of a larger study, questions focused on men’s attitudes about sexualities as well as development and evolution of sexual selves. Interviews were audio recorded and transcribed.
Most interviews with men in their twenties were conducted by trained men RAs. Several interviews were conducted by a woman RA who recruited men peers via snowball sampling. However, as her interviews yielded less depth, the first author decided to have men RAs conduct remaining interviews (the vast majority of which were conducted by one man RA in his thirties) as well as conducting twenty-nine interviews herself. This happened when men requested an interviewed with a woman/the first author. While gender effects could influence participants’ responses (van den Hoonaard 2009; Williams and Heikes 1993), the candor of interviewees and the depth of discussion from interviews with both the first author and men interviewers indicate a level of comfort and openness among most participants.
We analyzed data in NVivo 10, using a grounded theory approach (Glaser and Strauss 1967). We began by doing open coding and microanalysis (Strauss and Corbin 1990), aided by two RAs. This process involved reading through the interview transcripts multiple times together, labeling data with codes, and writing memos about emergent themes. In the interviews, we asked questions such as, “How did your first sexual experience start? Did you initiate that experience or did your partner initiate?” Although we asked specifically for detailed accounts of first sexual experiences, we coded all comments related to initiation of sexual intimacy under the node initiation of sex. Once we identified comments coded under initiation of sex, together, we went through the themes and developed subthemes, with careful attention to gender norms and sexual scripts. These subnodes include themes such as “reading the situation,” “responsibility,” “anxiety,” “intrapsychic scripts,” and “validation.” The accounts below are stories of first sexual experiences, which often but not always included intercourse.
Interview methods have the advantage of allowing researchers to ask for detailed explanations as well as follow-up questions regarding their experiences and opinions on the topic at hand. However, rather than producing a factual, unfiltered depiction of behavior or thoughts, research participants respond to questions created and framed by the interviewer and produce social narratives. Thus, we examine the accounts of the men interviewed for this study as stories of gender, of culture, and of heterosexuality. Our focus is on the discourses of initiation of sexual intimacy and what they tell us about gender and sexualities among heterosexual men of different generations.
Findings: Ready and Waiting
Similar to previous research (Dworkin and O’Sullivan 2005; Masters et al. 2013), we found discrepancies between cultural scenarios and men’s interpersonal/intrapsychic scripts. Although most men described themselves as prepared to be physically intimate at the time of their first sexual experience, men initiated in only 25 percent of the instances described (see Table 2). Rather, partners took the lead (50 percent of instances) or the situation was presented as mutual (17 percent of instances). In each case, men’s narratives demonstrated that they defined the situation by assessment of their feelings, their partners’ manifest readiness/interest in sexual intimacy, and this led to a particular pattern of initiation. Rather than deciding they were ready and taking action, data show patterns of interpersonal give and take, weighing of experience, and negotiation of situational cues with the aim of avoiding embarrassment and emasculation. Most interviewees presented themselves as “ready and waiting.” However, most also expressed anxiety about initiating sex. We discuss each pattern of initiation: partner initiated, self-initiated, and mutually initiated; noting the way gendered cultural scenarios influenced men’s interpersonal and intrapsychic scripts.
Pattern of Initiation of First Sexual Experience by Age.
Note: NI = not enough information to place participant into category.
Partner Initiated
Thirty-four (50 percent) men provided accounts of first sexual experiences started by a partner. This pattern was most common among “younger” men, those in their twenties to thirties (born between 1975 and 1994), where 60 percent and 58 percent of men in these age groups, respectively, noted partner initiation. Among men born before 1975, approximately 39 percent in their forties and one-third in their fifties said partners initiated (Table 2).
Passive masculinities: Intrapsychic scripts among partner initiators
Men indicated that their intrapsychic scripts involved assessment of partners’ level of experience against their own. They felt the more experienced person should lead. Although being less experienced than a girl/woman partner has the possibility of emasculation, most of the men interviewed expressed appreciation for a partner who knew what she was doing, particularly when they did not, showing the prominence of intrapsychic and interpersonal sexual scripts that diverged from gendered cultural scenarios. For example, Casey, a twenty-nine-year-old engaged man, described his first intimate encounter with a woman he met online when he was nineteen. He explained: I think she actually initiated kissing. ‘Cause I had never, I had actually never made out with a woman before…. So that made me nervous and so I said something to her about it. ‘Cause I think she was like, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” And I was like, “I haven’t ever kissed anyone.” And she was like, “Let me show you.” So in that sense, she kind of initiated the kissing. And so I think from that moment on she actually took charge and took the lead. And she realized I was inexperienced and didn’t know what I was doing…And actually I didn’t mind that at all because I was so nervous and stuff, so I felt like it took a lot of pressure off of me. Even though it probably did feel a little, what is it, demasculating or whatever.
Dworkin and O’Sullivan (2005, 2007) found that a majority of the men who initiated sex in existing relationships wished their partners would initiate more often because it made them feel desirable. Although men in their study demonstrated awareness of cultural scenarios that called for their sexual assertion, at the intrapsychic level, there was a desire for more egalitarian interpersonal sexual scripts. In our study, men not only desired this but described this as how it happened in their first sexual experiences. Men relied on women partners to take the lead. They communicated a great deal of anxiety about sexual performance because they seemed aware that failing or appearing unskilled would hamper their performance of masculinity.
In fact, in all patterns of initiation described in the present study, the majority of men expressed a lack of self-assurance. As Timothy, twenty-five and single, said, “I always felt like you had to wait for the exact right moment and then know everything before you did something along those lines. So, I almost never did because I didn’t know what the right moment would look like. Fear of embarrassment, fear of risking embarrassing myself or embarrassing someone else or making things awkward.” And Zack, thirty-four and married, explained he was nervous to initiate in his first sexual experience, “Mainly because I didn’t know what I was doing and I thought everyone else knew exactly what they were doing. I didn’t realize no one knows what they’re doing, actually…I think I was embarrassed that I would do something wrong.” In both of these cases, Timothy and Zack let partners make the first move. They weighed the risk of trying and failing with not trying and waiting and concluded there was less risk in the latter scenario. Their comments reflect the performance of passive masculinity. They masked their embarrassment, inexperience, and fear of rejection by waiting for their partners to make the first move. Rather than doing something wrong, they chose to not act. While not initiating could be read as feminine, the idea of “waiting” allows them to maintain a masculine image because it still indicates sexual desire. Being sexually virile and skilled is important to men (Seal and Ehrhardt 2003) and heterosexual men are socialized to understand sexual prowess as an expression of masculinity. Men who feel inept or inexperienced, or who fear they will make a fool of themselves, may find that not initiating—that is engaging in passive masculinity—is a better strategy. We label this passive masculinity because men can still claim masculinity because the yearning for sex is there. They are ready and waiting.
Generational cultural scenarios: Impacts on interpersonal and intrapsychic scripts
Men born after 1975, men in their twenties to thirties in this sample, came of age in a time of readily accessible Internet pornography (Cook 2006; Dines 2010). Cook noted that men use pornography to acquire knowledge about sex and the men in web pornography are dynamic, virile, and skilled. Thus, “men are anxious to prove themselves and become more anxious as more needs to be done to prove themselves” (Cook 2006, 56). In contrast with the still images of women contained in the often covertly acquired Playboy magazines viewed by men we interviewed in their forties and fifties, live-action, omnipresent web pornography constructs a masculine sexuality that is powerful, well-endowed, and able to please hypersexualized women partners. It not only provides objects of desire but also interpersonal scripts and cultural scenarios, which are likely to shape intrapsychic scripts. Given this, we explain the finding that a lesser percentage of younger men in this sample initiated first sexual experiences by looking at the cultural scenarios available to them. Although most men in their forties and fifties noted a lack of knowledge or information about sex in their formative years, they did not have the same pressures for performance that younger men did. For younger men, it is not just about “doing it” but also “doing it well.”
Thus, intrapsychic scripts consisted of fear, stress, and concern about performance. Both Zack and Timothy’s comments indicate their familiarity with dominant cultural scenarios and the influence of these on their intrapsychic scripts. Timothy, in saying a man should “know everything before you did something” and Zack, “I thought everyone else knew exactly what they were doing” show the expectation for men to be proficient at sex as a demonstration of manhood. Thus, it makes sense that men of their generation might be more inclined to wait for partners to take the lead, as doing so allayed some pressure.
Furthermore, from both Internet pornography and mainstream media, younger men grew up with cultural scenarios of women as desirous and pleasure seeking (Cook 2006; Dines 2010). Although research finds sexual double standards are still endorsed at the cultural level (Masters et al. 2013; Sakaluk et al. 2014), there are more narratives for women’s sexualities and more images of sexually assertive women. Coupled with men’s want for validation of their desirability and an increased interest in egalitarian sexual relationships (Dworkin and O’Sullivan 2005, 2007; Lamont 2014, 2015; Seal et al. 2008), we find a generational shift at the interpersonal and intrapsychic level in patterns of initiation of sex.
Self-initiated
Seventeen (25 percent) interviewees described scenarios where they initiated first sexual experiences. Of these, most men initiated only when they received clear cues that a woman was interested. In this way, men expressed they were ready to initiate but still read and defined the situation, looking for a signal that they would not be rebuffed. Although not as passive as noninitiators, here, too, men waited for signs indicating that their advances would be welcomed before they acted. In so doing, they subscribed to gendered cultural scenarios and interpersonal scripts that position women as gatekeepers. However, their lack of self-assurance reflects ambivalence about gendered cultural scenarios.
Older men, men in their forties to fifties, were most likely to initiate sex. Forty-four percent of men in their forties and 25 percent of men in their fifties noted they initiated their first sexual experience (Table 2). Older men were more likely to have had their first sexual experiences during a time where there were more rigid gender roles and expectations for men to initiate. Also, as noted earlier, they are less likely to have been exposed to cultural scenarios depicting women as sexually assertive or concerned with sexual pleasure (Montemurro 2014). Although men of all ages expressed anxiety, older men were not subject to the same performance pressures younger men were likely to have experienced, as there were fewer visual cultural scenarios of how sex should look and less emphasis on women’s satisfaction (Cook 2006).
If I don’t, we won’t: Intrapsychic scripts among self-initiators
Many of the self-initiators expressed sexual desire and curiosity about sexual intimacy but were tentative initiators. For most, this was conveyed through a discourse of “If I don’t, we won’t.” They read the situation and determined that unless they initiated, sex was not going to happen. Such men assumed traditional gender roles; femininity corresponded with waiting and masculinity with acting. As Max explained when asked if he felt it was his job to initiate, “I didn’t feel that it was my responsibility. It was the only way it was gonna get done, in the beginning.” Like several other men who initiated, Max’s narrative followed gender-traditional cultural scenarios. His decision-making process was not based on his own desire, independent of his partner. Instead, his intrapsychic script involved thoughts about his own actions as a man and about his partner as a girl/woman. Max read her as playing the gatekeeper role and recognized his role as initiator. Although he says he did not feel it was responsibility, he clearly felt that as the man he needed to take the lead.
Self-initiators were generally nervous about their performance and how partners might respond. For example, when asked his feelings initiating his first experience, Kirk, fifty-four, explained, “I was nervous. Nervous and hesitant, but still very interested so it was a balancing of those two forces. But the interest eventually won out.” Kirk was curious about sex and wanted to experience it and thus eventually made the first move with a girl to satisfy his interest. Yet like most men who initiated, he did not do so with ease. In this case, Kirk maintained a masculine image in the interview by emphasizing he very much wanted to have sex. His statement that “interest won out” suggests that he was “man enough” to not be stymied by insecurity.
Kent, a forty-seven-year-old married man, provided a discourse of partner selection that was driven by the desire to minimize the risk of rejection. He explains that as he was actively seeking sex, he pursued a particular coworker because he thought she would be receptive to his advances: …one of the reasons I was drawn to asking her rather than someone else I might have been attracted to, was her openness in terms of—so she asked a question. Like, we both came in, in the same group and started working there, [at] this part-time job, and she was already dressed a little provocatively. And she asked at one point, “Well how short are our skirts allowed to be?” So it got me to thinking that maybe she was a little more open about that than most other people would be. And I was—even though I asked her out, you know, I thought she was attractive—I was looking for sex.
Kent’s comments show an intrapsychic script where he sized up a potential sexual partner based on her dress and language. He was more at ease initiating sexual activity because he defined the situation as one where rejection was unlikely. But Kent’s pursuit of sex with her was based on their interaction rather than his own initiation. Here, too, Kent hedges his bets to avoid a situation in which he might be emasculated by not being able to successfully pursue sex.
Kenneth, twenty-six and engaged, who said he initiated early experiences, acknowledged the cultural expectation of masculine initiation. His narrative displays his intrapsychic script preceding initiation of intimacy: Because I am the guy, I’m supposed to be the dominant one. But, you know, it’s not that case for me. Because I am not the dominant type person. I mean, you might have a lot of males who are dominant, who goes after the girl and doesn’t care how she thinks about it. Just give me what I want. But I am the type of guy who thinks about that stuff. I think, so I’m sitting here and I want something from her. I think about all the possibilities that could go wrong and then all the possibilities that can go right, and then I sit there and choose in between of both of them. Should I do it or shouldn’t I do it?…Then I just choose to do it because that’s the only way it’s going to happen.
Like other interviewees, Kenneth’s decision to initiate was the result of a cultural scenario of women as gatekeepers. He recognized cultural scenarios which position him, as a man, as assertive. However, the process of initiation was more complex and anxiety ridden for Kenneth, as it was for most of the men interviewed, whose accounts demonstrated concern with rejection and performance. Yet he, too, balances his insecurities and embarrassment with his desire. His narrative reflects that he eventually “mans up” and initiates.
A minority of men provided a discourse that both acknowledged dominant gender scenarios and explained their decision to initiate as adhering to it. Victor, a twenty-year-old single man, was an exception who said he felt “nervous, because I didn’t know if the other person was gonna feel the same way.” When asked if he felt it was responsibility to initiate, he replied, “I guess, yeah, because always hearing like the guy’s got to make the first move, the guy’s got to make the first move.” Victor’s comments show that despite his nervousness, he believed it was his job to initiate. However, in this case, unlike many of the other men, his account shows anxiety and emasculation associated with not acting rather than acting and being refused.
Men who initiated defined the situation such that they were following a gendered script of masculine assertion or where self-initiated action was the only way sex would happen. They perceived their partners as adhering to gendered cultural scenarios as gatekeepers and thus initiated for that reason, not because that was necessarily the way they wanted it to happen. Thus, we see ambivalence among men about their role as initiators. Yet such men also framed their action as motivated by their strong desire. In this way, they were able to offset ambivalence about initiation with a masculine discourse of desire.
Mutually Initiated
Twelve men (17 percent) noted that initiation of sexual intimacy was mutual—neither person took the lead. Accounts of mutual initiation were generally less detailed and specific than other accounts, thus revealing interpersonal more than intrapsychic scripts. Intimacy or sex was described as the result of planning or as a natural progression of events. Men in their thirties were most likely to describe interpersonal scripts of mutual initiations; however, only by a small margin compared to men in their twenties, forties, or fifties (see Table 2). Men who described mutual initiation crafted interpersonal scripts with partners who also expressed interest in having sex.
Planning ahead: Interpersonal scripts
In several cases, men described interpersonal scripts of joint decision-making. They talked with partners about being sexually intimate and decided together when to proceed. Samuel, thirty and married, noted that he and his girlfriend planned to have sex. He stated that she had been ready sooner than he and had been asking for some time. When he agreed, they planned a romantic first encounter:
From what you said it sounds like she was ready a little bit before you, but who actually initiated the experience when you had sex the first time?
I mean I initiated the experience—I mean we were going to go do this, so we both did. And we had planned for this and we were mutually going for it. Yeah, like we talked about and had little rules, like, “Hey, we’re going to do this and this.” And we had like—we had ice cream or something before. [We] went to this kind of nature preserve place and it was moonlight and kind of pretty.
Samuel’s first response to the question was to say he took the lead. He then changed course to describe it as mutual when he talks through how they deliberated together and came up with “rules” or a shared interpersonal script. Having discussed it beforehand, he was able to read his partner and not risk rejection. Like most of the other men interviewed, he revealed he was not sure about what he was supposed to do sexually, but his comfort increased by knowing in advance the anticipated outcome. Furthermore, he could maintain a narrative of masculine action by saying he took the lead and describing his role in the planning as well as noting his desire.
In this example, like others described as mutually initiated, the importance of viewing the interaction as a dyadic encounter is clear. Samuel’s partner encouraged him; they discussed plans in advance. His interpersonal script is very much influenced by her interpersonal script. Although precisely how each partner played their role according to gender is unknown, by framing his first experience as mutually initiated, particularly when he said she was ready and willing before him, he shows he was involved in the decision-making. What also comes through in Samuel’s narrative, and the narratives of most other men who described an interpersonal script of mutual initiation, consistent with Pascoe (2007) and Lamont’s (2014) research, is a private sexual self—one that they show to their girlfriends rather than the public one they are expected to display to peers and more broadly—that reflects a personal, egalitarian masculinity and allows for mutuality in sexual encounters, with low risk of gender policing.
Some men who provided accounts of mutual initiation suggested that “things just progressed” and that, though not discussed, they felt their partner was also interested in being intimate. When asked if he initiated his first sexual experience, Scott, thirty-seven, married, replied, “I think if I remember it was mutual. We were at a party in high school. One of those crazy, I think, American Pie postprom (parties). A couple drinks and you go upstairs and that’s—I’m not sure who started it, but that’s how I remember it.” And Jerry, forty-one and married, said his first experience “just happened.”
We really hadn’t talked about it and it just happened.
You guys were kissing like before and it blossomed?
Right…
Do you remember how that started? Did she initiate? Did you initiate?
It was probably mutual. I wouldn’t say it was one over the other.
Jerry’s and Scott’s manifest lack of clear memory about the encounter ended with the conclusion that it was mutual. Scott presents a cultural scenario—“high school postprom party”—where sex is expected and so concludes that when they went upstairs, both partners knew what would happen. Defining the situation with high degree of feasibility of success, letting things just happen is a viable course of action. Furthermore, being vague about who initiated allows these men to avoid being emasculated by assertive women partners. Jerry’s “I wouldn’t say it was one over the other” allows him to gloss over whether or not he followed a masculine, interpersonal script. And again, as with the other patterns of initiation, longing for sex sufficiently balances potential emasculation corresponding with not initiating.
Conclusions
First sexual experiences are formative; they can shape sexual selves (Carpenter 2005; Montemurro 2014) as they set the stage for subsequent sexual experiences. They can also shape ideas about gender and produce and reproduce interpersonal and intrapsychic scripts in subsequent sexual encounters, as one learns through interaction how sex can happen. When men do not initiate, they learn through experience about women’s desire and alternate scripts about masculinity and femininity that they can carry into subsequent sexual encounters. Our research shows that, in practice, people can and do rewrite cultural scenarios to fit with their experiences and resist dominant constructions of feminine sexual passivity. And the private context of these encounters allows for expression of private masculinity. Men can demonstrate their sensitivity or respect for partners relatively easily in private contexts because the stakes for policing and repercussions for not following hegemonic gender norms are low. They can be “sensitive and macho” (Allen 2007), emphasizing their strong desire for sex (macho) and reframing not initiating as chivalrous respect for their partners (sensitive), waiting for partners to be ready or take the lead. However, we also note that such acknowledgment of women’s desire happens in this private setting. So, though there are some progressive ideas about masculinity implied by waiting for partners and fluid gender performance in sexual interactions, the limited, private context is a safe/low-stakes space for such expression.
In all patterns of initiation, it was evident that most men we interviewed were anxious in first sexual encounters and not sure of how to proceed. Their intrapsychic scripts revealed how they grappled with cultural expectations (e.g., men who felt it was their responsibility or felt emasculated), but, ultimately, their accounts reflected a rejection of traditional cultural scenarios of men’s assertion and women’s passivity. Although cultural scenarios of assertive men were abundant in popular culture for men born after 1975, particularly in pornography, interpersonal sexual scripts for initiating in real situations clearly were not. Men’s narratives showed a lack of comfort with how to initiate sex the first time and great concern with reading the situation correctly. Not initiating or initiating after discussion and agreement, or after cues that their partner was clearly ready, enabled them to be sure of a partner’s interest and thus validated their desirability. They then avoided emasculation that might come from a failed pursuit. They also avoided potentially inappropriate or aggressive action and, potentially, sexual harassment that might come from making unwanted advances.
Consistent with Dworkin and O’Sullivan’s (2007) study of initiation of sex among young heterosexual men in relationships, we also found that men appreciated when women initiated. However, among these men, it was because it made their course of action surer. Furthermore, unlike previous research, we did not encounter any men who disliked it when a girl or woman initiated a first sexual experience. This study sheds light on the complexities of masculinities and on gender norms in sexual interaction. Although their intrapsychic and interpersonal scripts countered dominant cultural scenarios, not initiating or only initiating when the cues indicated a receptive partner afforded men we spoke with masculine self-preservation. Although recent research shows men as more likely to engage in egalitarian sexual acts within a relationship than in a casual hookup (Armstrong, England, and Fogarty 2012; Lamont 2015; Seal et al. 2008), we find a shift not just in terms of individuals in relationships but also over time. Among our interviewees, younger men were less likely to initiate sex than older men. Thus, we add to the research on hybrid and egalitarian masculinities by showing how intrapsychic and interpersonal sexual scripts diverged from cultural scenarios and how shifting cultural scenarios seem to filter down to intrapsychic and interpersonal sexual scripts.
Moreover, this research underscores the importance of looking at heterosexual sexual behavior and initiation of intimacy as a gendered interaction—rather than the behavior of individuals. Men’s narratives clearly show that they were responding to their partners. In this way, as Lamont (2015) noted, women have the ability to shape men’s behavior and encourage the display of particular masculinities, particularly at the interpersonal level. Private sexual selves allow men opportunities to reform and resist hegemonic gender norms/cultural scenarios, to display a private masculinity; yet, their isolated and interpersonal nature does little to dismantle these scenarios publicly. As Bridges and Pascoe (2014) observed, hybrid masculine manners “often work in ways that fortify symbolic and social boundaries” (p. 255). It may seem like gender norms are flexible and relaxed in initiation of sex when more men noted they did not initiate. However, having that experience generally advantaged men in subsequent encounters, as it brought confidence and understanding of sex that enabled them sexual subjectivity and allowed them to choose or choose not to initiate going forward with that partner or others.
Furthermore, most narratives of initiation still relegated women to the role of sexual gatekeeper. Almost all men described themselves as ready and waiting. This enabled them to engage in passive masculinity. Reframing, not initiating as waiting, communicated that they desired and were ready for sex as soon as partners made it clear they were, too. This scenario affords women some power in the relationship, as they can set the pace for sex, without judgment and often with appreciation. Yet this power is limited to private context, where both parties are less likely to be policed and their displays of gender unlikely to be made public.
Recollecting on these experiences, men may have remembered more the sense of accomplishment or satisfaction associated with having sex than the feelings about its initiation. As Martin (1996, 14) noted, having sex “reinforces masculine and adult status” for adolescent and teenage boys. It may then be less important to engage in masculine action if masculinity is affirmed by sex, more so than by who initiated it. As cultural scenarios shift to focus more on performance than accomplishment of the act of sex itself, boy’s/men’s focus may be less on who initiated first sexual experiences and more on their skill. Pornography often depicts women as making the first move and as wanting to be sexually gratified (Cook 2006; Dines 2010). Thus, the generational change to focus on performance, coming from web pornography and a growing concern with women’s pleasure and satisfaction, calls for a strong showing by men. Whether a girl/woman partner makes the first move or displays behavior that allows a boy/man to define the situation as likely to yield success may seem inconsequential to a masculine sexual self if it ultimately leads to a feeling of success in any case. Future research might ask more questions about men’s sexual selves within sexual encounters and also how patterns of sexual initiation change over time in established relationships.
This research is limited by potential recall bias, as we relied on men to remember their first sexual experiences, which for many of the oldest men in our sample happened more than thirty years earlier. Although most men seemed to have relatively clear memories of their first experience, a few could not pinpoint who initiated it. And though interviews with men interviewers were not markedly different than interviews with the first author, it is possible that some men may have been concerned with the impression they provided to a woman interviewer and might not have provided the same details.
Sexual scripts can be forces of change. As Masters et al. (2013) wrote, “Mainstream traditional cultural scripts are not a given but require maintenance and reinforcement at the personal and dyadic levels” (p. 410). By transforming and rewriting these scripts at the interpersonal and intrapsychic levels, men and women contribute to changes in gender norms and interactions at the cultural level. They allow for fluctuating conceptions of femininity and alternate expressions of masculinities. We have demonstrated the way men’s insecurity and ambivalence about initiating first sexual experiences has manifested in less initiation among younger men, reflecting larger cultural shifts in masculinities.
Footnotes
Acknowledgment
The authors acknowledge the support of the Abington College Undergraduate Research Activities Program and the Rubin Fund, which provided funding for data collection and analysis for this study. The authors also express gratitude to John Jackson, Jonathan Magill, Clarence Bryant, and Victoria Pirenoglu for their research assistance and to Penn State Abington students Alejandra Barmash and Madeline Richard for their work on transcription and coding.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.