Confessions of a libra

Held | Credit: Here

09.06.25

Aftercare is the port at the end of a three course meal, heady and indulgent. Aftercare helps us honour each other’s bodies. It is a deposit into the relationship piggy bank, that tells the other that their personhood is important. Aftercare teaches partners through cuddles, kisses and murmured sweet nothings – that the act was more than friction.

Many of us think we want tenderness but have overcomplicated the execution in our minds. Being present, and not rushing all the way from foreplay to aftercare, is the rule of thumb. Aftercare is a closing ritual. If sex is a spell, then foreplay is the protection magic (think sigils, florida water or salt circles). Orgasms are the rush of feeling in your blood at the height of the spell, where the flame is high and your forehead pulses in knowing. Aftercare is the closing rite (think incantation, prayer or burying the contents).

We have a culture that has glorified the orgasm, in favour of the scaffolding that amplifies that signal. We are already having the least sex of our forefathers, we may as well alchemise our sexual time by infusing intention from start to finish. When we treat the orgasm as the centre of sex, we end up with a culture of sexual and emotional dissatisfaction. We end up treating each other’s bodies as pit stops or optional side quests on the way to the big O.

There’s a subsect of people that hold back their emotionality after the act as a way of maintaining appearances. Maintaining control or stoicism, and that closes you off to aftercare. Even if you performed the physical actions of aftercare, your partner feels it energetically. That sews a little seed of doubt about the relationship or sex itself. That can build up overtime and manifest into real relationship conflict. Sometimes we are insecure about our performance in the aftermath, causing us to avoid more intimacy. Other times we immediately enter a shame spiral. No matter which one could be you, allow me to clearly explain why aftercare is essential to good sex.

In my blog post “Ask a Priestess: Sacred Sex Guidance”, we explored the factors that contribute to arousal and libido. While women’s primary pleasure hormone is oxytocin and men’s is testosterone, they intersect deliciously in a way that makes aftercare universally important. Women need to feel trust and safety to feel fulfilment from sex. Men crave physical touch or praise to feel pleasure.

Imagine instead of rushing to grab your phone at the end of the penetrative experience, instead you hold each other. Breathe together. Cuddle and if it’s too hot maybe hook pinkies. Look into each other’s eyes. Praise each other’s performances. Soft strokes. Laugh. Revel in it. Maybe some clean up with warm cloths. Even if we are looking at a coupling among same sex partners, no one is exempt from needing this kind of safety after sex.

When you are cuddling in whatever formation that allows you to be skin-to-skin, breathing together – you are stabilising each other’s nervous systems. Instead of dealing with our world in an insular way, we invite someone to share the load for just a moment. In that moment, we start feeling vulnerable. This is why when we get tears, confessions, more fantasies, fears and gratitude. These are the moments that you lock away, the precious information that you may have otherwise requested but required this exact concoction to unearth. When you are regulated, you are present. When you co-regulate, you hold that presence like a shared prayer. Learning co-regulation can decrease defensiveness and shorten arguments. You tell each other’s nervous systems that you are safe. Our bodies need to be reminded of this often, so learning the different ways we can seek or accept safety, can improve our life satisfaction.

Rushing through sexual contact, then abandoning each other as soon as one orgasms – is deeply unsatisfying. We remember the lovers that took their time with us, and didn’t treat us like a revolving door. We want to know how good we made you feel. We want to see and be seen. In the aching, in the vulnerability and in the shortness of breath. Let your aftercare be the final leg of the marathon. Let it be weary, imperfect, emotional and brave. Your pleasure deserves a soft landing. Let aftercare be the way you write ‘Amen’ across someone else’s skin.