A sexual script is a sequence of interactions (physical, emotional, psychological) that are basically the last time a couple had sex. Most couples I work with have some sort of default sex script, and if they come to visit me, most likely their sex script amplifies the problem, not helps.
My job is to help couples understand and rewrite their sex scenarios. Flies on the wall, the sexual scenario is the progress of actions: dressing clothes, mouths being found, hands in exploration, body parts joining and disconnecting, muscles tensing and releasing. But beneath the surface of the sexual scenario lies the emotional underworld: the mental space between bodies. Sometimes sex is a bridge; the second time he discovers an abyss. When a sexual script succeeds, we get lost in arousal. Sex becomes like a famous dance and we don’t think about choreography twice. But when a sexual script fails, all we can do is not question the details.
I know that to some, thinking about sex as a scenario, with various elements going on in sequence, may sound rigid, overly clinical and disgusting, as opposed to spontaneity – what sex should “assume” is, right: spontaneous. But I compare my overall approach to playing jazz. Sure, you want to improvise and break free, but to do that, you and your partner need to know what song you’re playing, the genre, the progress of the key and chord, the tempo, and so on. Legendary jazz bassist Ron Carter said he played in the cult Miles Davis quintet from 1963 to 1968: “We watched every night going to the lab, Miles was the chief chemist. Our job was to blend these components, these changes, this pace, into something that surely explodes every night with little danger. “It sounds like good sex to me – I certainly explode with a little danger – and to do that, you have to know all the components you’re mixing.