How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Stoya and Rich here. It’s anonymous!
Dear How to Do It,
My boyfriend and I started attending social clubs for people who are into kinky sex (they’re called “munches”) after he discovered I have some unconventional sexual preferences. He is very cerebral and is an extreme empath (sometimes he knows me better than I know myself), is extroverted (I’m not), and can understand a person within minutes of talking to them. He sees that I’ve come out of my shell and that I’m having fun talking to other like-minded people, and he wants to support me as I explore my kinks. The problem is, he doesn’t really have any kinks and feels that he’s not getting the same enjoyment out of this endeavor as I am—he’s basically my wingman. How can I make these outings fun for my boyfriend, so we’re exploring as equal partners? He’s so desperate to have fun and I just don’t know how to help him.
—Desperate Muncher
Dear Desperate Muncher,
Well, this was a journey. Not a very long one, but a journey all the same. I was surprised at the end of your letter to learn that your boyfriend is “so desperate” to have fun in this social scene; up until then, I thought everyone was on the same page that this was about you, and not him. Basically, your wingman sounds about right—I read his accompanying you to these munches as an expression of his extreme empathy and assumed that whatever pleasure he got from this was going to be either vicariously or of the compersion variety. It just doesn’t make sense for him to expect to score in a kinky environment if he’s not kinky. Who goes to a dog park and asks around if anyone’s holding catnip? It’s true, that some kinky people do have vanilla sex (and enjoy it), but he could only really discover that possibility by talking to people.
Otherwise, I think there just needs to be an understanding that what you’re both doing here is to scratch your itch. This is an act of generosity on his part and a very good way to manage a mixed-interest relationship. Perhaps you can help him explore what he’s into in another arena, but whatever fun he does have as a result of the munches is probably something he will happen upon, not necessarily manifest or dictate.
Dear How to Do It,
My wife and I are both 61, in mostly good health with good jobs. We both exercise regularly.
About 4-to-5 years ago, my wife started losing interest in sex, always saying she just wasn’t in the mood, until I stopped asking. We are close and affectionate empty-nesters. We are quite comfortable financially—we have a weekly cleaning service, so no major household tasks. We have shared interests, lovely vacations, cuddle and kiss. I very much love her. It’s just all very PG-rated.
Maybe this hits me especially hard because of my background. I was probably what is today called “on the spectrum.” I went to a sophisticated college where I was awkward socially. I had a dozen women friends, none of whom had the least bit of romantic attraction to me. (I’m no movie star but at least average looking and was a varsity athlete.)
My future wife and I met a couple years out of college. We were each other’s first serious partner and at 24, both virgins. We were awkward at first, but we enjoyed sex, even during the busy years with young children. With my wife’s agreement, I happily got a vasectomy later to make sex more spontaneous, as her doctor advised against the pill.
Now, I’m wondering, as I did in college, what I was doing wrong. I don’t even know how to bring it up to her when she clearly doesn’t want any physical relationship—I’m afraid even my query would build an emotional barrier between us. I guess I’m feeling like I was the last person to have sex and the first to give it up! Not a world-ending problem, but these “bookends” make me feel unattractive. Any ideas for next steps? Or should I just accept that no marriage is perfect and suck it up?
—Missing Part of Our Life
Dear Missing,
Whatever your next step is, I don’t advise taking it without accepting the idea that your wife’s current lack of interest in sex may have nothing to do with you. For some people, libido simply fades with age. Others discover aspects of their identities that make proceeding as usual difficult or impossible. Your feelings are your feelings, but they may very well be based on a false premise, so if you go into a conversation already assuming that you and your attractiveness are to blame, you may miss something or risk turning her off from communicating. It’s better to ask questions with an open mind and a willingness to have your perception informed by her experience, should she be willing to share it. Don’t impose your insecurities on a discussion of your wife’s sexuality.
You said that you were awkward and that your women friends in college had no attraction to you. I wonder how you knew this. It’s of course possible that you hit on them and were told no directly and repeatedly, but it’s also possible that you didn’t do much to facilitate action. Sometimes charisma and interest are necessary to woo others. Very few people get to elicit fawning by just showing up. Some pairings require a catalyst to make sparks fly; if neither party is willing to be that person, the sparks skip the party. Attractiveness is about more than just looks, and if you weren’t particularly engaged or engaging, well, maybe you weren’t getting any kind of message across.
You also need to figure out what you want. Do you want more sex with your wife? Are you looking to explore outside of your relationship? Would it be better for you to stay in this relationship, sexually unsatisfying as it may be, than to take a chance on your own? Try to get as clear on this as you can before talking, as it will give you a sense of direction—if for some reason you weren’t willing to take control of your college-years interactions with prospective partners, well, make up for it now. Be tactful, but don’t over-worry about provoking an emotional barrier; your anxiety is understandable but, like all anxiety, it may not be warranted and so it shouldn’t dictate your self-expression. If it does, you’d be making that imagined barrier real. You. Start off by inquiring about her—what does she think of your sex life as it is? Is she willing to talk about her apparent lack of desire and what she believes is behind it? And finally, what does she think you should do about it? Does she actually expect you to be celibate? If she does, getting her to verbalize that may be the first step on the path to reconsidering.
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Dear How to Do It,
I am an adult woman in her thirties who has never had sex. This isn’t for lack of interest, more lack of opportunity and a social anxiety disorder that makes me freeze up a bit in unfamiliar situations. I haven’t dated since before the pandemic, but I moved to a new city last year and I want to try dating again. However, I’m struggling to find my confidence as a sexual partner. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve encountered more and more people who have made casual remarks about people who are inexperienced or bad in bed and how they expect better partners at their age. Even my last partner, who was very kind and respectful, expressed notable surprise and hesitation when I told him that I was a virgin at 26. It just makes me feel like an ice skater who is expected to do jumps the first time ever on the ice, and it’s making the prospect of dating after a long romantic dry spell even more anxiety-inducing than it would be otherwise.
What should I do to help get over this mental hang-up over my lack of sexual experience? Should I be as up front about it as possible with prospective partners so they know to keep their expectations low? Should I go with a more “fake it ‘til you make it” approach and keep it to myself, hoping they don’t notice?
—Shy and Severely Single
Dear Severely Single,
Well, look, you’re already tried option A, and that’s gotten you nowhere, so maybe dip your toe in option B. I’m a big fan of “fake it ’til you make it” when it comes to confidence, as synthesized confidence (that doesn’t go overboard, lapsing into self-delusion) is often indistinguishable from the real stuff. Posed confidence can also help you generate the real stuff—a positive response from your put-on confidence may enact actual confidence, and voilà.
Don’t assume you’ll be bad. Yes, technique is something that can be accrued over time and there are certain acts (like giving blowjobs) during which inexperience tends to be clear. But keep in mind that every sexual meeting is an origin story, and things like passion and chemistry tend to be just as (if not more important) than learned form. Experience can give you a hunch on what will work for pleasing your partner, but because everyone is different and sexual taste ranges so widely, it always ultimately comes down to that particular person’s individual proclivities, and those can only be learned through discussion or direct experience. With new partners, we’re all newbies in a way.
Your virginity may be useful information to some partners, but if you feel like it’s too much of a distraction, skip the conversation and plunge right into it. With that kind of approach, you won’t be a virgin for long. Render your own concern moot.
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Dear How to Do It,
I’m a trans man in a long-term (about 12 years) marriage with a woman that’s recently opened up. One of our motivations for opening up our relationship was discovering we both have a very intense interest in BDSM … both as dominants. She’s having a great time, and I am genuinely happy for her; we’re both very communicative about our feelings; and we still have a shared romantic life and vanilla sex life that makes both of us happy.
However, I’m having a bit of trouble navigating my own side of things. While I am bisexual, I haven’t dated men since I was early in transition. Because of that, my sexual experiences with men were a lot of “men who, in hindsight, were clearly misgendering me in their heads.” As a result of this (plus being repulsed by bottoming for PiV sex, which the cis men I’ve been with have pretty much all expected me to do), I’m always a bit on edge with cis men who express interest in trans men, especially me specifically. It doesn’t help that the kinks I want to dom for really fall into the classic“what male subs interested in femdom tend to be into” package—CBT, ballbusting, chastity/keyholding, etc.
Obviously, there are women who are into bottoming/subbing for all of these, and I have no opposition to playing with them (and to be honest would strongly prefer it). However, a) there are fewer trans women within my dating/hookup range than cis men just because of population statistics and b) most of the trans women I’ve met who are into these things are either exclusively into other women, or tend to only like men who are a lot more feminine than I am.
Logically, I know that if I want to play any time soon, it’s probably a good idea to start opening up to playing with cis men. However, the “always on alert” part of my brain is always a bit suspicious when cis men approach me.
To be fair, this is less of an issue with people I meet in real life, as I am cis male passing and am usually assumed to be cis. But in spaces online or where I feel I have to disclose my trans status before playing/hooking up, it comes into play. A solution I have thought of is to just have a “no straight/heteroflexible/curious men” rule, but I did have some of that misgendering experience with bisexual/pansexual cis men, so I’m not sure that’d be enough to make me feel comfortable.
How can I get over my discomfort? Should I every try and get over my discomfort? I don’t think I’d be unhappy to just not pursue this part of myself in terms of feeling like my relationship with my wife is unequally open, so I wonder if I should just let it remain fantasy until the time if/when I find a woman who’d be down.
—Aspiring Dom
Dear Aspiring Dom,
It seems like you know the right path forward for you, which is to mitigate risk of misgendering in partner selection. Do keep in mind that the process of finding casual partners or just dating in general is uncomfortable for a lot of people, regardless of gender identity. Strangers say shitty things to each other from behind their screens, whether intentionally or because they simply aren’t aware of individual sensitivities. Intimacy that fast tends to get messy.
I think the issue for you is that the stakes are higher because of the pain (and potential for triggering dysphoria) of being misgendered. So it makes sense to be careful—the reward has to at least match (and hopefully supersede) the risk. Sluts put up with bullshit because good sex is worth it, though given your life experience, I cannot fault you for being particularly averse to insensitive and/or ignorant feedback. You may find a middle ground via online screening, like the type you suggest. Have you noticed patterns in the type of guys who misgender you? Do they have other related beliefs that you could ask them about in attempt to get a better picture of how likely they might be to misgender you? Perhaps even asking them, “Have you ever been with a trans guy?,” will be a decent preliminary way to weed out the real ignorant ones.
That said, you “strongly prefer” being with women, and as of now, it seems like you’d be happy without pursuing the partners that pose more of a threat to your emotional well-being, so this is a case where the path of least resistance is actually the more scenic route anyway. It’s good to challenge yourself, and new experiences are fun, so just proceed with caution and screen diligently and you may actually find some dudes worth your time.
—Rich
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