Growing up in the early 2000s, I was obsessed with rom-coms. I studied them thoroughly, taking mental notes about how to play it cool, flirt, and most importantly, what finally having sex would be like IRL. While I would later come to learn that movies are, er, extremely unreliable sources of information, it was already too late. What I saw on-screen became the backbone of how I thought sex worked.
Among the long list of ill-advised expectations romcoms created for me was one that led me to spend the majority of my adult life thus far believing there was something seriously wrong with me: the scene when the two main characters gaze into each other’s eyes, and within seconds, start making out and having sex—on a table, in an elevator, in a car…you get it. Wherever they are, no matter the circumstances, both parties are
