Estimated reading time: 15 minutes
Dear Doc,
So, I’ve got a ‘fun’ one for you. It’s going to have layers upon layers of bullshit, so please bear with me while I type it all out. Also, I get the impression that most of your audience usually skews pretty cis-het, so consider this one a variety offering.
How does one look for a partner while being well outside of anything resembling ‘the social norms’, and thus dealing with massively constricted pool of options -on top- of being involuntarily picky?
I’m a trans man, technically bisexual but with full romantic preference for other men. Being trans already tends to narrow down your options (often massively so, depending on where you live), even if you are otherwise a picture-perfect catch. Well, I am most certainly not that, using the normal metrics. I’m a full-service sex worker, of many years, and have no intention of changing my line of work. I am aware that it’s usually somewhat less frowned upon among the polyamorous community, but… Since we can’t have it too easy, I am extremely NOT polyamorous. I have a hard preference for romantically monogamous, open relationships. A potential partner having other romantic involvements is a non-starter – I am perfectly happy with them fucking all and sundry as long as they use protection, however.
To make this even more convoluted, I am also deeply, profoundly unsociable. I don’t really use the term ‘introverted’, because I don’t feel that quite describes the scope of what I am talking about. I am fortunate enough to have an extensive amount of genuinely good friendships, but I’m the sort of a friend who will help you move or will show up in the middle of the night due to an emergency. Not the one you invite to an activity. Those I am likely to outright decline. Put simply, anything I do is decidedly more enjoyable to me when done alone. My primary hobbies CAN be done with other people – and I usually have a shit time doing them when I have to account for presence of others. I go through cyclical, short lived bursts of social energy, but they do not occur in a predictable pattern and it can be literal months between them.
Obviously, this affects the “where” of meeting potential partners. I am very aware of the dynamics of meeting people in the “wild”, by means of getting involved in A Community. That is indeed how I found the relationships I did have while younger (I’m in my mid-30s now). Unfortunately, the vast majority of the time, I am -actively unhappy- when committing to any kind of organized/scheduled activities. I have gotten both less sociable and, of course, busier with age.
So, we have the “normal, sensible ways of meeting new people feel like a visit to the dentist” aspect. The final cherry on top is that I very rarely find myself sexually and romantically interested in others. I’m one of those people who -require- certain kink activities for anything resembling satisfying sex life (this has buried several of my serious relationships, before I figured it out). So, it is common for me to have a pang of sexual attraction to someone, then find out that what I am looking for is not on the table and poof, just like that it’s gone. Romantic angle is even harder – it is very rare that I relate or connect with people on a deeper level (autism doesn’t help). While even nowadays, I still sometimes find people who are interested in me, I usually don’t feel even platonic social interest in return.
Given all of the above, I am in all honesty increasingly leaning towards “you know what, you are just not built for any of this, focus on your hobbies and work and forget all that relationship shit”. But, inevitably, the “wow I wish I wasn’t single” brainwave returns whenever I am not completely absorbed in my projects.
So, I suppose the question is: How do I know if finding a decent match is so mathematically unlikely as to be not worth the price of admission in time spent? If I decide to indeed not resume actively looking, how do I deal with the recurring misery pangs? And, on the contrary, if I decide to start looking again, how do I do so as someone who actively dislikes spending time around others and is aware of this -from experience-?
A Weird Hermit
Not gonna lie, AWH, you do have a challenge on your hands. But something being a challenge isn’t the same as being “impossible”; it just requires reframing things. This is why the question is ultimately “what are you willing to do about this?”
Everyone who gets into a relationship – whether they’re cis or trans, straight, gay, bi/pan or anywhere else on the spectrum of sexuality – makes compromises, adjustments and changes in order to find, enter and maintain that relationship. Sometimes it’s a matter of compromise – what are they willing to give up in exchange for that relationship? Sometimes it’s a matter of changing their circumstances – are they willing to make the changes to themselves, their lifestyle or habits? Still other times it’s a matter of changing their expectations – including their expectation of how long they’re willing to wait to find someone.
So the question for you starts with “how badly do you want to find a partner?”
Now I realize this sounds like I’m telling you that you need to start changing everything about yourself in order to date, and I’m not. What I’m doing is asking you about where “don’t want to be single” fits into your priorities. Understanding that makes it easier to decide just how you want to proceed, and whether the changes that you might need to make are worth the result.
Is it high enough that you would be willing to try to work with or around your preferences and limitations and see if there are ways you can overcome them without breaking yourself in the process? Alternately, would you be willing to accept being single for longer than you might prefer, while you wait for things to line up in such a way that your challenges aren’t as daunting or don’t require as much effort to match and overcome?
Another thing to consider is whether you even want a romantic relationship in the traditional sense. You’re someone who already lives outside of conventional norms and expectations; a “traditional”, heteronormative and amatonormative relationship may be a poor fit for you, even if you do address the aspects of your life that present a challenge. So it may be that the relationship model is the bigger problem. Trying to forge your own relationship model – one that actually fits your needs, wants and lifestyle – can be just as challenging, but it may be easier than trying to twist yourself into knots like a Cirque Du Soleil acrobat while also sanding down your corners and edges in order to fit into something that was never right for you in the first place.
For example, people joke about having a “outdoor cat” attachment style – where one veers between bursts of intense togetherness and disappearing for weeks at a time, but still caring for their partner – but that may be a mode that works well for you. It requires setting expectations and understanding that those relationships may be short-lived, especially if you require romantic fidelity, but it may be a much better fit for you and your lifestyle. The duration may not be as long as a more “traditional” relationship, but the value, meaning and importance of a relationship isn’t measured by its duration. A short-term relationship can be just as significant and meaningful as one that lasts for decades.
Or you may find that something more akin to a queer-platonic life partner is more your speed. Someone you can share your life and space with, where sex isn’t as much of a priority might well meet your needs. It might even be easier if you don’t live together, but within easy reach; you might occupy both sides of a duplex, or find apartments or condos in the same building.
If you do decide to actively look for a partner and relationship, then I would suggest starting with your top priority and working down from there. You mention that you absolutely need certain kinks for a satisfying sex life; that sounds like the place to start when it comes to meeting and qualifying potential partners. I’m a big believer that sexual compatibility should be a top priority in a partner; when the sex doesn’t work, the rest of the relationship tends to fall apart. Meeting someone who is right for you means going where they’re most likely to hang out; kinky people tend to hang out with other kinky people, so participating in the kink community (to the degree that you are able to) is a good starting point. It helps that the kink community has a lot of overlap with the ENM and queer communities, and they’re more likely to be comfortable with someone who does full-service sex work. A kink-forward dating app like Feeld might be a good supplement, especially for the times when you don’t feel like going and socializing in person. It’s no guarantee that everyone or even most will meet your requirements (or you, theirs), but it’ll be a lot easier to find viable candidates if you’ve already filtered out the ones who you wouldn’t be able to have a sexual connection with.
But even in those circumstances, you may be waiting a while to meet someone who is right for you and who you’re right for. You might – and I stress might – speed things up if you can bring yourself to be more active in the community… but that brings us back to whether trying to force yourself to be more socially active is something you’re willing to do.
And to be absolutely clear: the answer to “what changes are you willing to make?” may be “none” or “not these” and that’s ok! If you know yourself well enough to know that those changes wouldn’t be feasible or sustainable, then hey, it is what it is. That just means adjusting expectations instead, including possibly saying “yup, too much trouble, I’ll revisit this question again later,” which is also valid.
And revisiting the question later may well be the answer. Life has a funny way of looking like it’ll be one way forever and then radically changing down the line. If and when your circumstances change, your needs and requirements may well change as well. If that day comes, then it may be worth returning to the question of “is this worth it for me?” and seeing how things look.
But until that day comes, the best advice I can give is to make sure that the love of your life includes the love of your life – a life that you love, with meaning and satisfaction, whether you’re rolling solo or with a party.
Good luck.
Hi Dr NerdLove
I’m in my late 50s and newly divorced after decades of monogamous marriage. FWIW I’m a masculine-of-center lesbian, but I’m guessing my question is relevant to people of all genders and orientations.
My question is: how do older people with creaky bodies navigate having sex with new partners? The last time I was on the market, I was young, kinky, and flexible. Now I’m old, creaky, and rigid. I have joint problems, chronic pain, arthritis, asthma, and sleep apnea. I’m cancer survivor with a bilateral mastectomy. I’m post-menopausal with all the sexual challenges that come with that. I feel like I’d need to give someone a two-hour safety orientation before even cuddling.
Sex is supposed to be fun, but when I think about being physically vulnerable with someone new, it feels scary and not in a good way. I’m scared that even normal vanilla sex could result in a serious injury if my partner isn’t willing or able to be super cautious with my body. I’m anxious I’ll disappoint my partner if I don’t have the stamina or flexibility to have sex the ways they like. And I’m wondering, who would actually want to go through all this hassle just to have sex with me? Should I just focus instead on ramping up my solo game?
I can’t be the only older single person with an aging semi-functional body who has physical limitations around sex! But I haven’t been able to find any good guidelines about sex etiquette for people in my situation. When do I bring up my physical limitations? How do I talk about my mastectomy without killing the vibe? How do I learn to trust that my partners will care for and respect my body’s needs and limitations?
My worries about this are really holding me back from starting to date again. Any tips?
Signed, Old Dog Needs New Tricks
Age is the great leveler, ODNNT; time, entropy and gravity take their toll on everyone, whether prince or pauper. Until the day we get fully functional artificial bodies a la Commander Data, we all face days when our bodies aren’t going to work the way we’d prefer and we have to work around those limitations.
But it’s worth noting that people already face these issues and still have sex – especially as average lifespans grow and modern science makes it possible to mitigate some of the age-and-infirmity related roadblocks to sex. Retirement communities and assisted living communities are hotbeds of sex, as seniors – in varying degrees of decrepitude – continue to bang out. Similarly, people with a multitude of disabilities and handicaps that run the gamut of severity also date and have sex. Does it mean that people have to make adjustments and allowances and find work-arounds? Of course… but that’s precisely part of what makes all sex work.
Now, one of the benefits of the fact that other people also face these challenges and difficulties is that people have been there before and have drawn up maps and wrote guides to help others find their way through, too. I highly recommend that you check out The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability: For All of Us Who Live with Disabilities, Chronic Pain, and Illness by Miriam Kaufman, Corey Silverberg and Fran Odette – a medical doctor, a sex educator and disability advocate, respectively. It includes not just practical advice on positions and acts, but ways of seeing yourself as a sexual person, discussions on desire and suggestions on how to find partners and discuss your needs and restrictions.
I would also recommend Naked At Our Age: Talking Out Loud About Senior Sex by Joan Price. While you may not be a senior citizen yet, this is a great resource for addressing feelings and concerns about sex as we age and why getting older doesn’t mean having to resign yourself to a sexless existence. I think these two might pair well and give you both practical advice and vocabulary to communicate with your future partners.
However, in addition to the assigned reading, I think you should reframe how you see yourself and your body, especially in relationship to the partners you will have in the future – specifically the question of trust and comfort and how to communicate your needs to potential snugglebunnies.
You have limits, and any partner you have is going to need to be aware of them and sensitive to them. Those aren’t problems, per se, they’re facts. They’re just who you are and how your body works. Treating this as a problem or something you have to apologize for puts you in a poor place for finding and vetting a partner, in part because you’re talking about coming to them and saying “I’m sorry I’m broken in these ways, I hope you still like me.” You don’t have anything to apologize for; these aren’t flaws or defects, they’re just your body aging, like bodies do. Moreover, many of them are signs that you’re a survivor, bearing the scars of many hard-fought battles with Death himself. That’s not something to apologize for, that’s something that cultures used to brag about. Cancer couldn’t kill you! That’s the sort of battle that earns you a seat in Sto-Vo-Kor, win or lose.
(I’ve been binging Deep Space 9 and Lower Decks lately, does it show?)
So, I would suggest reframing your thinking about how to roll things out to your partner. A key point to remember is that people will look to us to understand how to react to information we provide them. You don’t want to apologize for how your body works, or for what you need for sex to be satisfying to you, you want to roll it out as “here’s how I work, here’s what I like, here’s what I need, here’s what I have to be careful with, and here’s what I can’t do, full stop.” You aren’t apologizing, you’re handing your prospective partner the “here’s how you win with me” guide.
How they respond to this information is going to be like the filter that tells you whether they’re a good fit for you or not. Someone who’s worth having sex with will take this information on board and use it appropriately. Someone who’s mature and kind, but finds that maybe this doesn’t work for them will bow out gracefully – no harm, no foul, just not a good fit. Someone who has a problem with this, on the other hand, disqualifies themselves and does you a favor in the process.
The same applies to the process of getting comfortable enough with a partner to have the kind of sex you want and enjoy. If you don’t want to kill the vibe by talking about your mastectomy, then I’d recommend talking about it beforethere’s a vibe to kill – that is, when there’s enough mutual attraction that sex is a possibility, but before you’re having to hit pause in the middle of a make-out session. I think an Awkward Conversation to cover “Hey, if we go forward with this, here’s what you should know” is a good idea – marking out time specifically to talk about it and answer questions without feeling like you need to rush through to get back to the hands and mouth action. Both of the books I recommend have suggestions on how to conduct those conversations.
Similarly, I understand being concerned about needing trust and security with a partner because of your challenges as well as the actual risks, and I would say that this is as good of a reason to keep many, if not most forms of sex off the table until such a time that they have built that amount of trust with you. There may be things you can do – mutual masturbation, for example – but other forms may have to wait until later down the line. This, too, is a filter; folks who are going to be right for you will be ok with this. Folks who aren’t, won’t be.
(And to be clear, that doesn’t mean that they’re bad people if this doesn’t work for them. It just means that you two are a poor fit!)
I completely understand why your worries are making you hesitate, ODNNT, but I promise you that you’re traveling a path that many people have traveled before, and they’ve left advice on how you can follow it through successfully too. The worries are large and in charge, but I promise you: they only seem larger and scarier than they actually are.
You’ve got this.
Good luck.
