A peculiar misconception about intimacy has been circulating for a while, and I’ve always found it amusingly absurd.
It seemed impossible that anyone would actually engage in it.
But, dear reader, I was mistaken. Quite mistaken.
I first came across this myth while watching what I consider the standout season of the series, The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City.
The same women who famously coined the phrase, ‘Receipts! Proof! Timeline! Screenshots!’, introduced me to something even more sensational—a purported sexual loophole termed ‘soaking.’
Initially, I thought it was just another internet myth. One of those rumors that seem too outrageous to be true, yet catchy enough to spread widely online.
So naturally, I did what I do best. I investigated.
Turns out soaking is very much a thing.
There’s a wild sex myth that’s been doing the rounds for a while now and I’ve always laughed it off as something ridiculous
According to Wikipedia, soaking is a sexual practice where penetration occurs, but without movement
For those of you blissfully unaware, let me bring you up to speed.
According to Wikipedia, soaking is a sexual practice where penetration occurs, but without movement. No thrusting, no rhythm, no anything, really.
The idea being that if nothing is technically ‘happening,’ then it doesn’t count as sex. That’s one hell of a loophole.
But here’s where it takes a sharp turn into the absurd.
Because in some cases, a third person, often referred to as a ‘jumper’ or ‘shaker,’ is brought in to do the ‘insertion’ and then to bounce on the bed. Not involved directly, but just enough to create movement.
The practice is often linked to Mormon purity culture, where strict rules around sex before marriage have, clearly, led to some very inventive workarounds.
I say fair play to you, you saucy, naughty Mormons! I remember what my hormones were like as a teenager and so I understand the desperate need to bend the rules to snapping point.
There’s no official doctrine endorsing it, and many within the church deny it outright, but speak to enough ex-Mormons and a pattern starts to emerge. I know because that’s exactly what I did.
After putting out a quiet call-out to my followers, I wasn’t expecting much. So, as backup, I slid into the DMs of a few social media identities who had shared their own experiences and… jackpot. My inbox lit up.
One woman, who has since left the church, shared her story anonymously.
She told me that growing up, she was taught that sex before marriage was as serious as committing murder. Sheesh, that’s a bit of a stretch.
The pressure to remain ‘pure’ was intense, especially before her mission. Which is where the loophole comes in.
‘Apparently, you had to actually do something for it to count,’ she explained. ‘So, what would happen is I’d stand there, completely naked and still, while a friend would physically move things into place and then they’d rock the bed.’
Yes. A third person. Fully present. Bouncing the mattress like some sort of morally approved metronome.
‘Since I wasn’t moving,’ she said, ‘we were technically doing nothing.’
She described the experience as feeling like ‘a boring threesome,’ more awkward than anything else, and worlds away from what most people would consider intimacy.
She eventually married within the church, believing she was doing everything ‘right.’ Following the rules and playing by the book.
‘And then I found out he’d been cheating on me,’ she said.
Not once but multiple times. She said her husband was doing this all while maintaining the same outward image of being devout, disciplined, and morally upright.
‘There was this huge gap between how we were supposed to behave… and what was actually happening behind closed doors,’ she told me.
In the end, it wasn’t just the cheating that broke her; it was the realization that all the rules and loopholes had just made everyone better at hiding things: ‘It almost bred us to be great liars.’
And she wasn’t the only one.
A man now living in Australia told me he dated a Mormon girl while studying at college in Utah. He wasn’t religious himself, which made the whole thing even more surreal.
‘She told me upfront that we couldn’t have sex,’ he wrote. ‘But then one night, things escalated and she said we could “soak.”‘
At first, he thought she was joking. ‘I genuinely thought I was being pranked,’ he said. ‘Like someone was about to jump out and film my reaction.’
But she wasn’t laughing.
‘She kept saying, “It doesn’t count if we don’t move.”‘
So, they tried it. And according to him… it was awkward.
‘It was just really quiet and still. I didn’t know where to look or what to do with my hands. We were just… there.’
He said it felt less like intimacy and more like both of them were trying very hard to stick to a rule that didn’t quite make sense.
He ‘tapped out’ he said, when she told him her friend was outside waiting to ‘help with the movement.’
‘I may not be religious,’ he told me, ‘But I do have limits.’
Apparently, he insisted afterward that she had ‘technically’ had sex, and she got angry every time he teased her that she was no longer a virgin.
That was the part he couldn’t quite wrap his head around.
I’m sure these stories don’t represent everyone in the church; they do highlight something deeper: the gap between the rules people are given and the reality of being human.
When you make sex completely off-limits, people don’t suddenly stop wanting it. They just find ways to bend the rules without technically breaking them. It’s human nature.
And let’s be honest, when it comes to ‘soaking’ I’d say the rule has been pretty clearly broken – I don’t care which way you try to swing it (or, perhaps in this case, hold it still).
It’s a bit like my love of bad boys. When friends tell me they’re off limits, I’ll make it my mission to smooch one.
Sigh, Jana. Get it together.
Anyway, the thing about soaking is it’s all about justifying something to make yourself feel better. Which, if we’re being honest, isn’t unique to religious groups.
Modern dating is full of its own little loopholes.
People insist it’s not cheating because there was no kissing. Or that it ‘didn’t mean anything’ because it was just physical. We’re all, in our own ways, capable of telling ourselves a story that makes us feel a little less guilty.
So, is soaking some kind of new sex trend sweeping the nation, as the internet would have you believe?
I’m not entirely convinced.
But I am convinced that the moment something like this hits TikTok, it takes on a life of its own. What may have started as a niche, culturally specific workaround quickly turns into curiosity. And eventually, for some, experimentation.
Because nothing travels faster than a bizarre idea that makes people say, ‘Wait… is that real?’
Call it soaking. Call it a loophole. Call it whatever helps you sleep at night.
But if the day ever comes when the generally accepted definition of ‘not having sex’ involves a third person jumping on the bed, I think we can all agree we’ve officially lost the plot.
