(im)polite company Wire
Talking about the things we were told not to. Thoughts and conversations on
Sex, Religion and Relationships.
Ending Things Doesn’t (Have to) Make You Heartless
So here’s something that doesn’t get talked about enough: a well-done breakup can actually be a form of care (for yourself and the other person/people). Most people assume that ending a relationship has to be dramatic, avoidant or mean. But it doesn’t have to be. It really doesn’t.
When I’m working with clients who are thinking about ending something, we’ll sometimes explore the opposite first—what if you stayed? Nearly every time, they realize staying would mean showing up less and less.
Less emotional investment.
Less intimacy.
Less truth.
And eventually, less sex. (Because let’s be real, you’re probably not getting turned on when you’re halfway out the door.)
So what’s the alternative? You share what you are feeling. You try your best to do so in a way that it empathetic but also communicates your needs.
It doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, in fact I can promise you it still will. But it also doesn’t make you an asshole.
You’re allowed to feel sad, or guilty or even relieved. Your partner(s) might feel angry or sad or multitude of things. That’s okay. They are allowed (and should be expected) to have feelings of their own too. All of that can coexist with care.
You can say:
“This is hard to talk about.”
“I still care about you.”
“I want to be honest because you matter to me.”
The trick is to try your best remain present with yourself and not to not check out.
And if the conversation gets heated, you’re allowed to set boundaries. If it gets aggressive, make those even firmer.
You can pause.
You can walk away.
You can always circle back…or not.
Take home: Breakups don’t have to be cold. They can be loving. They can be honest. They can even bring peace, if you let them.
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Not Everyone Gets Turned On the Same Way, You’re not Crazy
A couple of weeks ago, I was chatting with a few therapists about how sex has been showing up in our sessions. Sexual response and desire were two LOUD topics that came up! And it comes as no surprise. Response and desire are two fixtures of sexuality that are rarely talked about, and when they are they are we often misunderstand them.
Back in grad school, we learned this old-school model of sexual response based on the work of two sexologists—Virginia Johnson and William Masters. To be fair, their research (from the 1960s!) was groundbreaking for its time. But as we’ve learned more (by, you know, talking to more humans), it turns out their model didn’t go far enough.
Here’s the deal: Masters and Johnson’s model (1966) was largely shaped by male sexual response patterns, which left out a lot of nuance in women’s experiences, as well as queer folks.
Their model describes sexual response as four linear stages:
Excitement – The body starts responding (increased heart rate, lubrication, etc.).
Plateau – Arousal builds in intensity, leading up to orgasm.
Orgasm – Peak arousal, AKA “cumming.”
Resolution – The body returns to baseline.
But here’s what we know now: not everyone responds this way. Cis men often do, but many others don’t.
This is where Rosemary Basson (2000) comes in. Studying women’s sexuality, she found:
Orgasm isn’t always a clear endpoint. Many women experience rolling orgasms, where pleasure continues rather than sharply declining. (I’ve noticed this sometimes with natal men during anal sex—orgasm doesn’t always mean ejaculation.)
Desire doesn’t always come first. Many people don’t start with spontaneous excitement but can become aroused through intimacy, touch, or emotional connection—flipping the Masters & Johnson script.
Emotional connection matters. M&J didn’t focus much on intimacy, but for many, emotional closeness is a major factor in sexual response.
Take home: Sexual pleasure isn’t one-size-fits-all. It’s often circular, nonlinear, and way more complex than we were taught.
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Trauma Doesn’t Just Fuck You Up—It Fucks Us Up
A few weeks ago, I was talking with a client about how weird things had felt between them and their partner since a wildfire swept through their area. And not just emotionally—practically, too. Their routines were off, their communication felt strained, and intimacy had taken a backseat to just surviving. It got me thinking about something that doesn’t get talked about enough: how trauma—especially shared or environmental trauma—shows up in relationships.
When we talk about trauma, we usually focus on how it affects the individual. It fragments us. It disconnects us from parts of ourselves. But trauma doesn’t just live in our heads—it shows up between us, too. Especially in relationships that were already holding stress. A job loss, a death in the family, a diagnosis, a natural disaster—those things don’t just shake us up internally. They put our relationships under pressure, and that pressure can bring long-buried conflicts or unmet needs right to the surface.
Here’s what I often tell clients navigating trauma in their relationship:
First, name the thing. This isn’t just a rough patch or a bad week. If you and your partner are moving through something big—like a wildfire, an evacuation, or a major loss—that deserves acknowledgment. It’s not an everyday experience. Give yourselves permission not to have it all figured out. Grace goes a long way.
Second, know your threshold. Everyone has a saturation point—emotionally, mentally, physically. For some people, it shows up as brain fog or zoning out. For others, it’s irritability, a clenched jaw, trouble sleeping. Learn how your body says, “Too much.” And learn how your partner’s body says it too.
Finally, remember: you’re not broken—your system’s overwhelmed. That’s a big distinction. You’re not failing at being a partner. You’re adapting to stress. And sometimes, that looks messy. That’s okay.
The hard stuff doesn’t mean your relationship is doomed. It means your relationship is human. And in some cases, working through trauma together can actually deepen connection and build resilience.
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Gregory D Kilpatrick, MSMFT, LMFT is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist (LMFT 123790) in the State of California.
All services are provided by Zephyr, A Marriage and Family Therapy Professional Corporation, of which Gregory D Kilpatrick, LMFT, CST is the President, CEO and an employee.
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