Great Sex Is Like Cliff Diving
It’s scary, likely to lead to physical or emotional injury, but also one of the best things in life
The Mandate focuses on topics that men don’t like to talk about. It’s written by Olympic Medalist and frequent Men’s Health contributor Jason Rogers. If you were forwarded this email, subscribe below.
In my experience, great sex is like jumping off a cliff.
You and your partner are standing up on the cliffside, feeling scared because, boy, it sure does look like a long way down. But it’s the good kind of scared because it’s clear by your partner’s coy smile that they’ll jump if you do. You nod and smile back. Then you take each other’s hands and leap together, feeling a rush of terror and delight.
The free fall is exhilarating. As you plummet, gravity makes your body go every which way. You react simultaneously to your own instincts as well as your partner’s moves. They begin to twist, and you naturally find yourself twisting as well. Then, you begin to contort your body in a new direction and, wow, now they are following your lead. It’s a dance — a call and response — that flows and evolves as you fall.
If you watched a video of the event, you’d probably think: Yikes, I can’t believe that’s what I look like while I’m falling through the air. (Unless how you look while you are falling through the air is your thing, in which case, more power to you). But you don’t think about that because you are totally absorbed in the moment. Enjoyment is far more important than scrutinizing your descent.
There’s a big finale when you reach the water, and the splash provides a rush of pleasurable sensations. More importantly, you notice that there was something special about being airborne together. You felt more like your authentic self rather than the carefully constructed character you often perform in your daily life.
The more you jump, the more experimental you and your partner become. One time, you suggest a swan dive, and your partner’s like, “Yes, let’s try that!” The next time, they up the ante: a backflip! “Ok! Let’s do it!” you say. But what’s most important is that you trust each other to navigate the jump as a team.
The Dilemma of Casual Cliff Diving
But maybe you aren’t part of a duo, so you go cliff diving on your own. And, don’t get me wrong, that can be super fun. But you often find yourself constantly leaping, falling, and splashing in the exact same way. There’s no variety, which is partly why you are more interested in jumping as a pair. (Or group — again, more power to you).
So you seek out jumping partners. You might be in a stage of your life where you’re only looking for a jumping fling. But let’s just say that you’re in search of a consistent accomplice. But damn, it’s just so freaking hard to find the right one.
You are open to meeting people in real life, but these days, most people prefer to swipe through an app. So you decide to try it, telling yourself that you can avoid awkward, in-person conversations like “So, errr, what kinds of cliffs do you like?” But you find that some app conversations are weirder. Apropos of nothing, someone messages you: “yo hottie, send me pics of your jumping feet.”
However, you need to jump regularly to feel healthy and sane. Perhaps, you even feel some pressure from society to be constantly jumping. So you keep swiping and, finally, find someone whose profile seems compatible enough.
As you hike up to the cliff’s edge with this person, you feel some chemistry, but you also notice that something’s lacking. When you reach the edge, there’s a feeling of hesitation. Maybe, the other person feels it too. But you both think, what the hell, let’s just jump.
You still feel the prickling excitement as you take the plunge. And, when you hit the water, you experience a sense of relief. But you don’t feel open. You don’t feel a sense of rightness. The act seems more like an effortful solo dive with an audience than a synced tandem act. Then, in the minutes after, you feel like two strangers floating side by side.
The next time you plan to dive together, the person sends a lame text message thirty minutes before your date to say they can’t make it to the cliff. You try to shrug it off because you were only partially excited about the jump. But you still feel kind of bad about yourself because what if they found a better jump?
So, you get back on the app. When someone responds that they are free for a dive, you just say yes, and you’re not sure why. After the splash, you feel even worse than before, but you keep seeking out random dives because you don’t know what else to do.
Then, you encounter a partner whose cliff diving preferences are out-of-step with your own. You are not keen to jump off a 200-foot cliff backward with a blindfold and a prop. But you have also been solo jumping and watching videos of extreme cliff divers. Those videos made you feel like not wanting to perform these kinds of stunts means that your cliff diving technique isn’t any good.
On Cliff Diving Drought
But let’s say you’ve found a great diving partner; however, you’re starting to notice that your zeal for jumping isn’t always aligned. On some level, you understand that it’s natural for there to be times when you don’t have the emotional energy to jump. After all, cliff diving can be an extreme sport!
Still, you worry about hurting your partner’s feelings. And, rather than talking openly, you try to force yourself to jump off the ledge. Perhaps, you notice that it’s kind of like a solo dive. Or maybe your body even refuses to jump. Either way, your partner is confused. They were hoping for a joint experience — to breathe the same emotional air as you — but you disappeared into a world of your own.
Afterward, you might notice an annoying voice in your head ask: What kind of person doesn’t want to (or can’t) jump off a cliff? And your partner is probably now feeling hurt and wondering, is my jumping style just so gosh darn awful that my partner couldn’t bear to watch me flail? That trusting energy you once had is eroding. And you notice that you both are starting to avoid cliff jumping in favor of safer activities like knitting or playing the bassoon.
However, tension builds, and you begin interpreting your partner’s off-the-cuff remarks — “you never make the bed” — as a judgment of who you are. This leads to constant bickering about your lack of bedmaking, which really has nothing to do with the bed at all. Neither of you wants to be in this stand-off, but you aren’t saying what you really mean.
Thankfully, you gather the courage to tune into your true emotions, instead of pushing them away. You sit down with your partner and speak with a new kind of honesty. In a way, it’s far scarier than any cliff you’ve ever attempted. You say, “not being able to cliff dive makes me feel broken.” Something shifts deep with your partner. They say, “it hurts to hear that; I’ve felt really alone, but I’m so glad that we’re back on the same page.”
You decide to engage a professional to help you repair old wounds and find ways to start diving together again. That professional offers lots of helpful exercises like sitting together on the cliffside and choosing not to jump so that you can gaze into each other’s eyes instead.
Cliff Diving is a Life-Long Art
As you grow older, the higher cliffs begin to lose their appeal. But that’s ok. You and your partner brainstorm ways to make it fun for you both — like building a slide to aid your tandem descent.
By now, you clearly understand that it’s ok not to feel like diving. But you are also committed to communicating honestly and empathetically if you don’t feel like jumping that day. This allows your partner to feel safe. Usually, your partner says something like, “I understand; let’s jump another time.”
Most importantly, you now know that when you are up on the cliffside, it’s not about the act of diving itself. It’s about taking a moment to block out the world and feel as one. That mindset has brought more meaning to the act of jumping. More importantly, it makes the life you share together feel like a neverending splash.