Hatefucking: Is It Healthy To Have Sex With Someone You Loathe?

Hatefucking means to sleep with someone you abhor, resulting in an encounter fuelled by a mix of resentment and sexual tension. The contradiction is what makes a hatefuck so exciting, as revulsion and attraction clashes in a way that can feel electric, sometimes dangerously so. This ambivalence feeds these contradictory feelings (anger, arousal, defiance) that can coexist and be directed towards the same person through sexual tension (Birnbaum & Reis, 2012).

It’s a trope that you’ll find all the time in TV shows, books and fanfiction, where two characters who despise each other somehow end up in bed together. That “I hate you, but I want you” energy can be thrilling because it evokes the idea of transgressing social or interpersonal norms. From a sexological point of view, these relationships often enter into specific sexual scenarios (Simon & Gagnon, 1986), meaning moments in which sexual behaviours are defined by cultural norms, where conflict becomes the pretext or trigger for setting off desire.

One of the biggest reasons people are drawn to hatefucking is the sheer adrenaline rush of confrontation. When anger is bubbling over and your heart’s pounding, the line between rage and desire can blur fast. This intense physiological response kicks off the sympathetic nervous system, the part of the body that manages fight or flight responses as well as arousal (Diamond & Dickenson, 2012). Thus, the body’s reaction to stress can be confused with sexual arousal, amplifying the intense sensations experienced.

Then there’s the idea of erotic catharsis: a ‘release’ or ‘offloading’ that can be emotional as well as physical. Although this aspect of sexuality can temporarily reduce the emotional load, it won’t necessarily regulate the causes of conflict. It’s more likely that sexual pleasure becomes a tool in which to avoid general conflict, a tactic that is strengthened by the immediate yet passing pleasure, according to the principles of what we call negative reinforcement (Beck 2021).

And of course, there’s the thrill of giving in to an urge for someone you hate, or at least tell yourself you do that incites a feeling of transgression. This can also boost desire by stimulating fantasies linked to provocation and forbidden acts.

As arousing as such an encounter might sound, a hatefuck is not without its dangers. The line between erotic games and out and out violence can be hard to distinguish, especially when the resentment felt is real. Research shows that sexual practices that take place in an environment where conflict exists can be accompanied by aggressive behaviours, physical or verbal (Stuart et al., 2006). The absence of emotional security weakens relations between people and makes the recovery period more difficult.

What’s more, the emotional ambivalence that these types of relationships are built upon can create a confusing environment. After the fact, feelings of shame, guilt or self-deprecation can arise, leading to a change in one’s sexual ego, particularly if one of the partners is feeling used, or if there’s a power imbalance at play (Birnbaum, 2013). As a matter of fact, for sex to be fulfilling, a basic amount of trust, respect and emotional clarity is required. (Levine, 2003).

Finally, from a psychological standpoint, this practice can also stem from repeating patterns of intrafamilial violence experienced during childhood (Young et Klosko, 2018). According to the book Je réinvente ma vie (Reinventing Your Life), our emotional and sexual interests can stem from dysfunctional relationships we experienced during childhood. Therefore it’s important that one stays vigilant regarding the cause of their feelings: are they rooted in the repetition of toxic relationships stemming from childhood, or are they coming from conscious, safe, adult desires? The risks involve getting used to associating sex with conflict, which can lead to altering the way you see yourself, as well as the way you see your relationship with the other person, and with intimacy as a whole.

If you’re still tempted to go there despite the risks, a few precautions can make all the difference.

Before jumping into bed with your arch nemesis, take a moment to listen to your thoughts and take stock of your emotions. Is this coming from shared desire? Is it a way to escape unresolved conflict? The CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) approach recommends you identify any underlying beliefs ( “My anger needs to be expressed through sex”, “It’s the only way for me to get power over the other person”) to help avoid acting upon repetitive or unconscious behaviours.

It might feel strange to talk things through when hostility is a big part of the dynamic, but communication is crucial. Be clear about boundaries (physical, emotional and verbal), choosing a safeword or an agreed-upon hand signal reduces the risks of things going too far. If you’re undergoing an emotionally tumultuous time, this isn’t an appropriate thing to be taking part in. These rules are evocative of responsible BDSM practices that concentrate on three things, to be “Safe, healthy and consensual” (Weiss, 2006).

Choosing a neutral location allows you to keep your emotional day-to-day free from this type of energy. Studies on emotional memory demonstrate how physical places are often strongly linked to the intensity of people's memories (Buchanan, 2007 ; Nadel & Bohbot, 2001). Keeping your personal space preserved from tension as such allows you to maintain benchmarks for psychological safety and avoid an increased amount of flashbacks in cases of trauma.

Aftercare is crucial, even after an experience rife with conflict. Post-sex check-ins allow partners to check one another’s emotional state, validate each other’s feelings, discuss eventual difficulties and decide whether reliving the experience is in their best interests. Taking time to refocus on interpersonal values may be needed: “Is this type of relationship helping me to be the type of partner that I want to be?”, “Does this practice correspond to the types of relationships that I want to build?”

In conclusion, a hatefuck is a powerful cocktail that mixes desire, anger and transgression. For some, it’s a stimulating side quest, for others, it’s a source of confusion or emotional pain. What remains important is to be aware of what you’re doing, to talk about it with your partner, and to never lose sight of your deep-seated needs. Even during the most intense forms of confrontation, respect and consent are primordial amongst partners.

Hatefucking can be a heady cocktail of passion and loathing, a mix that can rev up your excitement, or leave you feeling burned. If you decide to go there, be mindful of the risks, give yourself permission to set your limits, and don’t be afraid to change your mind. Above all, your physical and emotional well-being should always come first. No matter how intense the dynamic, consent isn’t optional: It’s essential.