When I started dating J, he was all sweet and innocent — sensitive, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and waiting until we were safely ensconced in bed before he made a move.

More often than not, something soft and romantic was playing in the background, like the Shins or some other sort of quiet indie rock. I loved the tender, intimate moments we shared. But I needed to mix it up. I needed him to just pound me.

“Babe, next time we have sex, I need you to do one thing,” I said one morning over breakfast.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Just screw me,” I replied. “No soft caresses, no acoustic rock. I want loud music, and I want you to just give it to me good.”

Thankfully he obliged.

The next time we had sex, J was not gently pulling my skirt off and softly pushing the hair out of my eyes. Fleet Foxes was not playing. He didn’t take 30 minutes warming me up. I had walked in after a long day when he pounced on me, ripped my clothes off, and carried me to his weight bench, where he turned me over and had his way with me. He screwed me like it was our last chance for sex before aliens descended on our planet and killed us all. It was all over in ten minutes, after which we collapsed in a sweaty, satisfied mess.

It’s not so much that women like to be roughed up; it’s the passion we’re seeking. The insinuation in J’s behavior was that I was so damn fine he had to have me right then and there. In other words, rough sex isn’t necessarily that rough. I’m not suggesting you bring out the whips and chains and throw her on the floor (unless that’s what you guys are into). Rough sex could just as easily be described as “passionate” sex. It’s more about the unbridled desire that women find such a turn-on. You’re basically telling us, “You are so sexy, and I want you so bad, that I have to do you right now.”

In talking to my friends, I realized I wasn’t alone. My friend Shana said of her husband, “I just want him to throw me to the ground and tell me he wants to fuck me. I want him to want me. I want animalistic desire.” Instead, she got sensitive kisses to the neck and light thumping on the regular. When a male stripper appeared at a friend’s bachelorette party, she couldn’t help but remark, “He just grinded on me harder than Tom has in three years.” Yikes.

Men have been taught for years that women like lots of foreplay, soft caresses, candles, and rose petals. And while romance has its place, sweet, sensitive sex every time can start to feel like flaccid sex. Sometimes women want their men to be — men. Instead of spending ten minutes caressing our shoulders while you’re waiting for us to make the next move, just take control. There’s nothing wrong with tender sex, but sometimes we just want to get laid. Stop wasting time whispering sweet nothings and touching our cheeks. Women want a man who can take control and be decisive, not just in life, but in bed, too. There’s nothing hotter than a guy who is so revved up to screw you he can’t hold back. We want our hair pulled. We want you to pin down our arms. We want our legs held behind our head. We want rough sex. Yes, even the feminists.

It’s not just the act itself. It’s the attitude of raw, primal lust behind it. In other words, you can’t just pull her hair; you’ve got to act as though you relish doing it with the same fervor you have for polishing off a bowl of buffalo chicken wings. When I first suggested the idea of handcuffs to J, he agreed to try it. Unfortunately, his hesitancy and lack of passion using them ruined the mood. It was as though he was trying to figure out how to put together an IKEA desk. In theory, being restrained sounds wild and crazy, but without enthusiasm it’s about as titillating as going to the dentist. On the flip side, a few nights later, when he was feeling especially randy, he had no problem taking charge. Picking me up while furiously kissing me, he threw me on the bed and pulled me forward by the ankles, resting them on his shoulders as he went to town. Had he asked for permission — “Buttercup, can you lie on your back and put your ankles on my shoulders?” — I likely would have dried up.

A note of caution: Don’t try this outside the bedroom. Had J employed a similar attitude while shopping at Target, I would have slapped him. Unless he was trying to get frisky in the fitting room. But that’s not the only no-no. First off, don’t surprise her by entering her backdoor (unless you do that regularly, and she’s okay with it). Second, she is still a woman and therefore probably more delicate than you. Don’t slam her into a wall, floor, or bed with all your might like you’re on the wrestling team. Chances are she’s not built like Hulk Hogan. Sure, push her up against the wall, but think sultry seduction, not Mike Tyson in the ring. Besides these few precautions, you’re pretty much free to do whatever you want. Remember: Women are attracted to men because you’re different from us. Stop getting pedicures, put down that Dr. Phil book, and give it to us rough.