Get Out of the Sex Olympics: Shifting from Performance to Existence
In session, I sometimes get secondhand performance anxiety — because when my clients talk about sex, it sounds less like intimacy and more like someone preparing for a Celine Dion-level Vegas performance — meticulously choreographed, high-stakes, and absolutely exhausting.
Which leaves me thinking…
There are two ways we can show up in sex — and in life:
Performance mode and Existence mode.
Most of us were trained — explicitly or subtly — to operate in performance mode. It’s the mindset of doing, achieving, delivering. It thrives on measurement, judgment, and the ever-present question:
“Did I do it right?”
Performance Mode: The Sex Olympics
In performance mode, sex becomes a competition — a high-stakes, pressure-filled event.
I sometimes call it The Sex Olympics.
Men in performance mode often focus on stats:
Was I hard enough?
How long did penetration last?
Did I last long enough?
Was my ejaculation well-timed?
It’s like they’ve got an invisible stopwatch and scorecard running in their head. They’re not in their body — they’re evaluating it from a distance, like a coach yelling from the sidelines.
Women in performance mode look like they’re auditioning for the finals of an Olympic floor routine:
Facial expressions perfectly timed.
Moans artfully placed.
Poses selected to highlight their “best angles.”
Concerned about whether they looked sexy, sounded sexy, performed well enough to be wanted again.
And after it’s all done?
Both wait silently, sometimes anxiously, for the judgment phase.
They may not say it out loud, but the energy is palpable:
“So… how did I do? What’s my score?”
This isn’t intimacy.
It’s a performance review.
Existence Mode: The Return to Play
In contrast, existence mode is about being.
It’s rooted in presence, not performance. In curiosity, not control.
It’s the mindset of the baby who falls 15,000 times while learning to walk, without ever once being told, “You failed.”
In sex, existence mode feels like:
Sensation, not strategy.
Playfulness, not pressure.
Exploration, not expectation.
We should approach sex the way we anticipate a good massage — not with pressure to perform, but with the quiet excitement of comfort, connection, and care. Sex shouldn’t feel like a choreographed performance for imaginary judges.
It’s about fun, freedom, and connection.
It’s fluid, not graded. There’s no scoreboard. No applause to wait for.
Just presence. Just pleasure. Just being.
From "I Should" to "I Am"
Performance mode often comes with a script full of “shoulds”:
I should orgasm.
I should please them.
I should make them want to see me again.
Existence mode sounds more like:
I’m here.
I’m safe.
I’m curious.
I’m allowed to feel, to fumble, to enjoy.
This isn’t about letting go of effort or care.
It’s about letting go of the idea that your worth is something to be proven.
How to Practice Existence Mode (Without Taking Your Clothes Off)
If existence mode feels foreign to you, don’t start in the bedroom — start in real life.
A great way to train your existence muscle is to deliberately do something you suck at. Seriously. Pick an activity where you’re guaranteed to be mediocre — or even terrible. Something that isn’t about outcome, performance, or looking good.
For me, that’s surfing.
A few years ago, I realized I needed to reconnect with existence mode in a concrete, embodied way. So I started surfing. I don’t live in a surf town, which means every vacation became a trip to chase waves. Let me be clear: surfing is hard as hell. You’re not cute doing it (well, I’m not). You fall constantly. You get wiped out. You swallow about two liters of ocean water through your nose while questioning every life choice that brought you to this beach.
It’s a spiritual experience, really — because it forces you to release control, let go of judgment, and simply be. I’m not good at it. But that’s the point.
In surfing, there’s no version of me that’s impressive. There’s no medal. No validation. And that’s exactly why it works. It’s a full-body reminder that I’m allowed to exist without excelling.
So if you’ve spent a lifetime chasing excellence, try chasing something else: freedom from self-judgment. Try painting, dancing (picture a finance bro learning salsa), learning a language badly, taking improv (cringe), or — yes — surfing. Do something where you’re not in charge. Where you can’t control the outcome. Where your worth isn’t on the line.
That’s existence mode in action.
Lacanau, South of France
Final Thought
If you’ve spent your whole life in performance mode, you’re not alone. I work with many high performers — former athletes, entrepreneurs, executives — people who are used to pushing limits, chasing goals, and measuring success. For them, sex often becomes another area where they feel they need to deliver.
But what if you gave yourself permission to experiment with a different setting?
The goal isn’t to abandon performance mode completely. It has its place — sometimes we want to show up with intention, effort, and maybe even a little flair. But we need access to more than one mode. Think of it less like an on/off switch, and more like a dimmer — something you can adjust based on what the moment truly calls for.
So here’s something actionable:
Next time you’re about to be intimate — with yourself or someone else — ask:
Do I want to perform right now? Or do I want to exist?
What am I afraid might happen if I stop performing?
What am I trying to prove? And to whom?
What would it feel like to just be present, without impressing anyone?
Am I chasing connection — or approval?
Do I know the difference between being wanted and being evaluated?
These aren’t questions to answer quickly. They’re questions to sit with — especially if you’ve spent most of your life in high-achieving environments where your value was tied to what you could do, produce, or deliver.
Practicing existence mode starts with these tiny moments of pause. That’s where your power is — not in perfection, but in choosing how you want to show up.
This week, remember you’re a human BEING, not just a human DOING ;)
kanica xox