Why we get it so wrong
Most of us grew up with this really binary understanding of consent. Someone either wants to have sex or they don’t. Yes or no. Green light or red light. Once you get that initial yes, you proceed until someone explicitly says stop.
The problem is that this treats consent like a contract you sign at the door rather than what it actually is: a continuous exchange between people whose feelings, comfort levels and desires are constantly shifting throughout an encounter.
Early on I was conditioned to believe that asking questions during intimacy would ruin the moment, kill the mood or make me seem uncertain and unattractive. Real men were supposed to just know what their partners wanted, to somehow read minds through mystical masculine intuition.
Looking back, this is genuinely terrible advice that has probably caused more damage to intimate relationships than almost anything else we teach men. It sets us up to ignore communication in favour of assumptions, to prioritise our performance over genuine connection and to treat our partners’ comfort as less important than maintaining some fabricated image of unshakeable confidence.
When you’re taught that communicating “ruins the mood”
Asking for consent, checking in during intimacy and maintaining ongoing communication does not ruin the mood. It actually creates the mood.
The idea that verbal communication kills sexual energy is a myth perpetuated by films that have no basis in real intimate connection. Honestly, some of the hottest, most connected moments I’ve experienced have involved direct, explicit communication about desires and boundaries.
There’s something profoundly intimate and genuinely sexy about asking “does this feel good?” or “what would feel even better right now?” These questions demonstrate that you’re genuinely interested in your partner’s experience, that you’re paying attention to the real human being you’re with.
When Evie and I are intimate together, we communicate. Not in a clinical or detached way, but as a natural, flowing part of our connection. She’ll tell me what she needs, I’ll ask her what she wants, and we adjust based on what we’re both feeling in that specific moment. This ongoing dialogue is actually part of what makes our intimate connection so deeply satisfying for both of us.
What it actually looks like
Ongoing consent is about maintaining awareness of your partner’s experience throughout an encounter and creating space for that experience to be communicated and honoured.
Sometimes it’s verbal: “Is this still feeling good for you?” Sometimes it’s about reading body language and energy shifts, noticing when someone tenses up in a way that doesn’t seem related to pleasure, or when they seem to mentally check out even though they’re physically present.
When I notice someone’s breathing change or their body tense, I pause and check in with them. “Are you okay?” These simple questions create space for honest responses without making anyone feel pressured or put on the spot.
When I’m about to try something new or escalate to more intense touch, I ask first. “Can I touch you here?” or “Would you like this to be harder or softer?” This isn’t awkward or clinical when it comes from genuine care and presence. It’s actually really sexy to be asked, and to know that someone cares enough about your experience to check in.
The key is treating these check-ins as natural parts of intimacy rather than interruptions to it. When you genuinely care about your partner’s experience, asking becomes second nature rather than something you have to remind yourself to do.
Why ongoing consent makes you better
When you’re constantly checking in and paying attention to your partner’s responses, you learn what actually works for them rather than operating from assumptions or what worked with someone else. You become more attuned to subtle shifts in their energy and arousal, which allows you to adapt your approach in real time to what they’re actually experiencing.
The best intimate experiences I’ve had have involved constant communication. Her telling me exactly what she wants, me asking her how different touches feel, both of us adjusting and exploring based on what we’re learning in the moment. This creates a level of connection and mutual pleasure that simply isn’t possible when you’re making assumptions.
In our professional work, clients consistently tell us that the communication and check-ins throughout our encounters make them feel safer and more comfortable, which paradoxically allows them to relax more fully and experience deeper pleasure. When someone knows they can speak up at any point , they can let go and actually be present in their body.
What we need to unlearn
The truth is that emotional intelligence, communication skills and genuine care for your partner’s experience are far more attractive than any performance of unshakeable masculine confidence. Every woman I’ve spoken to about this has said the same thing: partners who check in, ask questions and remain attuned to their responses are infinitely more appealing than partners who just assume they know everything.
Your ego might feel slightly bruised the first few times you ask “is this okay?” or “what would feel better?” But I promise you, the discomfort of challenging your conditioning is temporary. The benefits of becoming someone who can actually connect authentically and ensure your partners feel genuinely safe and respected last forever.
Finally
Communication enhances intimacy big time and checking in demonstrates care rather than uncertainty.
Creating space for these conversations shows emotional maturity and care. The people you’re intimate with deserve to feel completely safe, respected and heard throughout every encounter and you deserve to know that your partners are genuinely enjoying themselves rather than just hoping they are. Ongoing consent makes both of these things possible.
So start checking in. Start asking questions. Start treating consent as the continuous, evolving conversation it actually is.
Your intimate life will be better for it.
Axel Meridius · Independent Male Escort
