There’s something no one teaches you when you work with people, especially in the realm of sexuality: it’s not just about what you do, but who you do it with.
Since I started considering myself a sex coach, I thought my job was to correct, guide, and teach, and yes, it is, but over time I understood something more important: not all clients are at the same point or looking for the same thing, and when you try to treat everyone the same, that’s when the clashes, frustration, and bad experiences begin. What truly makes the difference is learning to identify, almost within the first few minutes, who you have in front of you.
There are clients who want to learn, and you can feel it immediately because they listen, try things out, adjust; they don’t need to do it perfectly, just be open. And with them, everything flows. You can guide, suggest, explore, and above all, they notice the difference. They feel that something changes with you, and that’s why they come back, not because of exactly what you do, but because of how they feel being with you.
Then there’s the client who’s stuck, the one who wants to do it right but doesn’t know how. They get lost, nervous, and uncoordinated. The mistake here is explaining too much, because it’s not a lack of will but a lack of connection with their own body. So, the more you talk, the more they disconnect. What really works is simplifying, reducing instructions to a minimum, setting the rhythm with the body, with the breath, with presence, because when someone is stuck, they don’t need theory; they need to feel without pressure.
There’s also the client with a fragile ego, who is especially sensitive because they believe they’re doing it right, even if that’s not always the case. Any correction, even a gentle one, can feel like an attack. This is where I understood that not everything can be corrected directly; guiding isn’t always about telling; sometimes it’s about redirecting without confrontation, reinforcing what is working, and gradually leading them to another place with humility. You have to know when to be quiet, and sometimes I don’t. Something I’m still learning.
Then comes the automatic client, who is present but not truly present, going at their own pace, not listening much, not really connecting with what’s happening, not coming to learn but to fulfil their own expectations. And here we often fall into the trap of insisting, of trying to change them, but the more you insist, the more the experience breaks down. So the change is internal: you stop trying to teach them everything and focus on getting the best possible out of that moment without fighting against what is.
And finally, there’s the resistant client, the one who doesn’t listen, doesn’t change, doesn’t adapt. You can guide them once, twice, but there comes a point where you have to be honest with yourself and understand that you’re not there to fix everyone in one session, because forcing things only creates tension, and tension is the exact opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. So sometimes, doing a good job isn’t about insisting more, but about knowing when to stop.
Over time, all of this boils down to a single question I ask myself almost at the beginning of each session: Does this person want to learn, or do they just want to do their own thing? Based on that answer, I adjust the session, sometimes with more coaching, other times with much more subtle guidance, and other times simply by being present without constantly intervening. One of the most common mistakes is thinking that doing the job well means correcting everything, when in reality, the opposite is true. If you correct everything, the other person feels that everything is wrong, and from that perspective, no one enjoys or learns.
Today I see it differently. It’s not about saying more things, but about saying the right things, at the right time, and in the right way. Above all, it’s about understanding that my job isn’t to change everyone, because not all clients are ready to improve, not all want to, and not all are in the right place at the right time. So my real job is to read each person and adapt the experience without losing my essence, because in the end, the difference isn’t just in the technique, but in the sensitivity to understand the person in front of you.
And someone wrote about me something like, “99% wouldn’t repeat the experience,” because I talked too much and was constantly correcting myself. I didn’t take it as an attack, but rather as a reflection of a specific experience, of someone who didn’t connect with my way of working at that moment. …And well, I suppose there’s always a small margin for improvement, that 1%.
Because sometimes the kind of sex someone brings is so different from mine that the orgasm doesn’t align or flow, and that first experience can even feel like a disaster.
Not all encounters are a good fit, not everyone is looking for the same thing, and not everyone is at the same point in their journey.
That didn’t define my work; it only described a meeting that didn’t work out. And besides, we have to accept that we don’t always click with everyone.
I apologise to all those people I wasn’t able to support in the way they needed at that moment, and who felt they had wasted their money and time.
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