The Touch That Taught Me To Receive
- Carla Crivaro
- 5 days ago
- 11 min read
Updated: 4 days ago
I thought I had understood what it meant to receive before.
But recently, I came to understand what full acceptance of receiving actually is.
I connected with a man, we’ll call him Alex (shared with his permission), who had come across the Wheel of Consent. It’s a framework that explores, when we are touching, who is it actually for? Often, when we touch another human, we believe we are doing it for them but we rarely check in to ask if that’s true. Sometimes, we touch for our own pleasure, which can feel grabby if we’re not checking in with the other person to see if it’s comfortable for them.
Touch can be complicated.
Doing it.
And receiving it. (If you’re interested in this concept, I’ll link to Betty Martin’s video, as it’s her framework.)
How many times have we laid there in the bedroom, someone touching us enthusiastically, and it doesn’t feel quite right? They seem to be enjoying themselves, so we don’t say anything. Or maybe they’re touching us in a way that isn’t really doing anything… and if they only went a little slower, or slightly to the right…
But we stay silent. Because they’re trying, they’re keen, and we don’t want to rock the boat.
I’d got really good at speaking up for myself in the bedroom, then ended up in a relationship where expressing my needs began to feel unsafe. I’ll go into that more shortly, but first, I want to share my recent experience.
Alex and I had connected and had some vulnerable conversations around sex, specifically the giving and receiving of oral sex.
I shared that I used to really enjoy giving oral to a man, but in a previous relationship, requests for me to receive more oral were met with him curling up in the foetal position, upset, saying sex would never be the same again, that he’d now be in his head, that it wouldn’t be in flow and I’d ruined our sex life.
I began to doubt my right to ask for what I wanted and how I wanted it. I was ‘too much’.
Re-entering the world of sex with someone new felt uncomfortable. I could feel in my body resistance to giving touch. Due to over-giving in a past relationship where I completely abandoned myself to avoid upsetting my partner, I felt icky. Like my body had regressed to my twenties, when sex felt like it was for men and not for me. That idea of being, or at least feeling, used. Used for their pleasure, for what they could get from me.
Knowing this was my internal story and not actually the truth, I became clear on what I wanted sexually. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, but I did want to meet someone I could see regularly to have my sexual needs met.
You see sex can feel like it is for someone else when we aren't clear on what we want, how we want it and then don't voice it. Or, when we give and we do so with ulterior motives or out of resentment.
I was clear in what I was looking for next - they needed to enjoy giving pleasure, and they needed to enjoy giving head. They also needed to have good communication skills and self-awareness. I wrote it on my profile. I knew those men existed. And I believed that connecting with one would be part of my healing from that previous relationship.
A friend said to me, ‘You won’t find a man like that. It’ll be difficult.’
So we think they don’t exist and we settle. But I have faith in the men that will come into my life. I see my male clients doing the work and showing up. I mix in circles with men who coach, support and lead other men.
So I wasn’t going to let a ‘bad relationship’, a blip, determine my view of men and what I could call in.
I also know they aren't going to be perfect, I'm not expecting them to be.
And anyway. I acknowledge I’m not perfect. It’s like everything, show up as fully authentic as you can be and you will attract your people.
Alex and I had an in-person meet over peppermint tea and exchanged messages and voice notes. What stood out to me immediately about Alex was his own self-awareness. Something I had been calling in, even with people with whom I was to only have sexual encounters. He knew about attachment theory, I shared with him that I had felt secure in my marriage but that a more recent relationship had brought up my anxious side.
He shared that he was working through his avoidant. And so, when I would message or send a voice note and he had listened to it or read it, he would let me know when he would be able to reply. He knew what I needed and responded appropriately - people who lean more on the anxious attachment style when they don’t receive replies it can trigger their fears of abandonment.
I felt taken care of, even through message.
The day came for me to see Alex. That morning, I received this message:
‘Due to some of my experiences this weekend, all my cups are very full, overflowing, in fact. I’m feeling very sexually charged today, but in a very giving, caring, providing way. I’d like to let you know that I’m very open to unleashing all of that on you today, in whatever way that means for you and whatever you need.’
Alex is a gift. What he offered that day was a deeply healing experience.
He made us lunch - proper food, including homemade gluten-free bread and biscuits.
Then he invited me upstairs. I let him know what time I needed to leave so I could fully relax and allow him to lead.
He asked what I’d like so I asked for a massage. He started by checking in on pressure and strokes. He’d clearly been paying attention to the Wheel of Consent. I gave a few tweaks on what felt good and was met with an enthusiastic, ‘Thanks for letting me know.’
My body began to relax.
Partway through the back massage, I realised I wanted a full-body massage. I enjoy every part of my body being touched. I don’t have a favourite, it always depends on how I feel in the moment. That flexibility means that every time I meet someone, what I want may be different. So having the chance to tune into my desires and voice them is key.
I let Alex know I wanted a full-body massage and that I was happy for him to lead with pacing, as he knew what time I needed to leave.
He checked in before moving to each new part of my body, always asking about pressure and touch.
Something I noticed, which felt new, was that I could feel his full attention on me.
I’ve experienced so many men whose touch felt disconnected, like they were mentally elsewhere or just doing it to get to the next stage. That kind of touch pulls me into my head, makes me feel like I’m taking up too much space, like they don’t really want to be there.
This was different.
I absolutely trusted that Alex was fully present, enjoying touching me in ways that pleased me.
That trust helped me ask for more. A little firmer here, a bit more there. Each time, he met me with open, enthusiastic acceptance.
So my body relaxed even further.
I felt trust.
Trust that this was for me. Trust that I could ask and it would be received with grace. Trust that he’d speak up for himself too, like when he felt uncomfortable in a position and adjusted it.
There was no goal. He was right there with me in the moment.
So often, touch has felt like a means to an end. ‘If I do this, then I’ll get what I want’.
This was different.
What I also noticed that his ability to stay present with me through his touch enabled me to stay present with his touch and the sensations in my body instead of drifting off in my own head thinking about my ‘to do’ list.
Another thing I felt I embodied that day was the idea of ‘flow’ in sex. Many believe that being ‘in flow’ and following instincts makes the sex better. But I realised… people who focus on ‘flow’ without communication are often not able to receive direction. Because direction suggests there could be a better way. And that threatens their self-worth.
But for me, the more check-ins there were, the more relaxed I became.
Eventually, we reached the last part of my body - my pussy. I asked if he’d massage there too. He agreed.
Again, he checked in. Again, he was fully present.
I noticed my pussy pendulating between enjoyment and feeling sexual. And I noticed myself trying to force the sexual feelings instead of just being with what I was actually feeling.
I recognised I was pushing myself towards orgasm, as a way of proving that he’d ‘done a good job’.
So I named it. I told him what was going on in my head. He thanked me for sharing vulnerably and told me it was OK to just enjoy it - it didn’t have to be sexual.
I burst into tears.
Relief.
Finally, someone said the words I’d longed to hear. That what I was feeling was OK - both emotionally and physically. I was being seen.
In that moment, I realised how much my body had been holding. I asked for a hug and sobbed, snot and all, on his shoulder as he encouraged me to let it out.
In that moment I realised how in the past I’d bypassed my emotions. I had grieved a relationship from a place of attachment. Then quickly moved into self-responsibility. Taking the ‘conscious’ and ‘spiritual’ path of claiming my role in a relationship. When I hadn’t actually felt all the emotions and that had been unfelt. I hadn’t given myself the space to acknowledge where and how I had felt considerable disappointment, anger, fear, resentment. I had skipped that part, which in fact is crucial to healing.
So the problem was, my nervous system hadn’t caught up.
My body had learned not to trust.
Reactivity and emotional unavailability had been my reality. My requests shamed as demands. My emotions dismissed as ‘too much’.
Alex was guiding me back to myself - my desires, my voice, my truth.
And in that moment, I finally saw the grief, anger and disappointment I’d buried. I’d been gaslighting myself into thinking it was all my fault. That I had been ‘too much’. When in fact, it had just been the wrong relationship for me and how I felt was absolutely valid.
Alex held me as I shared all of this.
Part of me felt guilty. That it wasn’t his to hold. And, at the same time, he told me it was an honour.
Before I got ready to leave, I asked for one last thing - for him to bring me to orgasm. He said yes with enthusiasm.
He asked if he could take his clothes off as it was getting hot. I agreed.
He started kissing me. It felt good. Then my mind went back to the old narrative - ‘Here we go. He said it was for me, but now he’s shifting into what he wants.’
That old fear that intimacy would again become about the other person’s gain.
But… he didn’t.
The kissing led into him working his way down my body and when I realised what he was doing, I relaxed again.
He meant it when he said it was for me.
He brought me to orgasm.
And again, I cried.
He held me, passing tissues as I dabbed my face like a panda from the band Kiss.
The tears were for all the emotion I hadn’t allowed myself to feel. The emotion I’d shut down because it didn’t feel safe.
And now, here I was - fully seen. In my pleasure, in my vulnerability, in my mess.
I knew Alex wasn’t going to be a permanent romantic fixture. But now I knew I would one day find a man who could hold me in all these ways. My body knew what it felt like - it would be able to remember, it would recognise the green flag.
And I was now beginning to believe I was worthy of it.
This experience taught me so much.
It happened over five hours. Five hours of presence and receiving from someone giving from a full heart.
Someone once told me - we get more joy from giving than receiving, because receiving comes at a cost.
But now that I’ve experienced what it’s like to receive from an enthusiastic giver, I know the truth.
Receiving is a gift.
We’re often told we ‘should’ like a certain type of touch. That ‘it worked on my ex’ or ‘no one’s complained before.’
That kind of approach disconnects us from our truth, our desires, and our ability to trust ourselves.
I work with women who find sex painful or can’t orgasm with their partner. So often, it comes back to knowing what feels good and being able to ask for it - and feeling safe to do so.
In my own relationship, when I asked, it was met with withdrawal or shutdown. With emotionally immature men, requests feel like demands.
When I work with couples, I encourage that when someone sets a boundary or speaks up, the response should be - ‘Thanks for looking after yourself’ or ‘Thanks for letting me know.’
So many of us are programmed to people-please. To stay quiet. Avoid discomfort.
But when someone speaks up, they’re showing agency - and trusting you with that. That is an honour.
Because when someone no longer feels safe to speak up, they stop. They build resentment. They pull away.
On my way home, my cup felt full, but I also felt shame. Shame about my tears. That maybe Alex was just being nice.
I called a friend, crying, sharing how deeply the ex had affected me. How I hadn’t realised the imprint it left on my nervous system.
She said, ‘I know, Carla. I know.’
It was like everyone else had seen me diminish, while I was the last to notice.
The following day Alex checked in with me and made himself available if I needed it. There was a lot of shame in the days that followed. Residue from how I had learnt to feel when I had shared in the past with someone who couldn’t hold me. I had wanted to shut down and avoid Alex, but I leaned in and shared my feelings of shame and of course, he held space for that too.
Alex has since entered a monogamous relationship. We’ve chosen to stay friends. He’s a great man. I feel fortunate to have such a fabulous male friend in my life.
I’ve been calling in more positive male role models for my sons. Working with men, I see how deeply their relationship with masculinity has been affected by the lack of healthy male role models.
Alex has agreed to be one of them.
For now, I’m closed to romantic relationships.
But I’m making conscious choices about the men I bring into my sexual world, choosing men who guide me back to myself.
One day, when I desire a conscious relationship again, I’ll be ready, with discernment, trust, a strong voice, and a deep knowing of what I will and won’t accept.
Until then, many more adventures await.
Carla Crivaro is a trauma-informed and certified Sex, Love & Relationship Coach, she works with men and women internationally to reach their goals in delicious sex, profound love and authentic relationships. Carla helps men and women understand themselves and each other, sexually and relationally, in and out of the bedroom. You can reach her at hello@carlacrivaro.com.
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