I’m a cis queer woman in my mid-twenties, and I’m mourning yet another 2-3 month-long relationship that ended unexpectedly, and this time it’s messing with me in the way the others haven’t.
To keep the background of it all short, before this I’d been single for about 4.5 years. Around the start of COVID, I realized I really needed to work on my relationship with relationships, so I committed to therapy and eventually started SSRIs. All of this has been super helpful, and about a year after moving to a new city, I decided to start dating again, but nothing stuck until this most recent person. We went on a first date, but a few days afterward, she reached out to tell me she had a lot going on and didn’t have the capacity for a relationship. I was initially upset but wanted to be friends, because we got along well, and we spent a few months developing a friendship I was really happy with. Then she confessed feelings, and I did the same, and we decided to try dating out to see where things went.
For two months, we’d started doing the stereotypical couply things: When we were visiting our homes for the holidays, we were always in contact, and she told me she couldn’t stop talking to her family about me. When I got back, we ordered a sex toy together (which we’d talked about doing a few weeks prior and I’d never done with a partner before). Then all of a sudden, after we got back to my place after a date night, she told me she has too much going on in her life and doesn’t have the capacity to be in a relationship with me.
I was and still am very confused by everything. I know we hadn’t formally defined the relationship yet, but she knew from the jump where I stood re:situationships, and I genuinely didn’t think she’d break things off so suddenly.
It’s been almost eight weeks and I’m doing better than I ever have after a breakup thanks to the work I’ve done on myself, but I’m honestly still fucked up about how I go forward once I’m ready to put myself out there again. I opened up to her in a way I never had with anyone and really put in work to be honest about my anxieties so they didn’t backfire on me like before. Now I’m not sure how I can trust anyone else to not break things off super suddenly when it happened with someone who made me feel genuinely safe and secure. I’ve never been in a healthy long-term relationship and thought things with her were going in that direction, and now I’m not really sure what to do. Some magic words of wisdom would be SUPER appreciated, it’s tough out here!
Thanks for listening!
Baffled & Bummed Out
Dear baffled and bummed out,
I’m baffled and bummed out for you, too! It seems like things were going so well, which makes the sudden breakup even more confusing. You’re definitely not alone in feeling torn up about a short situationship. Most of the time, the 2-3 month relationships I have are more difficult for me to work through than long-term full blown relationships. I think a big part of that has to do with closure. In a typical monogamous long-term relationship, there’s often a sense of if/when things might come to an end. You’ve known that person long enough to identify behaviors that may suggest changing feelings. In a short dating stint, it could be harder to read the signs or feel comfortable sharing uncomfortable feelings. Regardless, it sounds like you and this person were very close and shared many intimate moments, so you’re completely valid in feeling upset about this.
I don’t have any concrete answers for you, but I can offer another perspective. Sometimes people just can’t handle saying goodbye. Some people can’t even handle strong feelings. This could be your ex-situationship’s case. Often, relationship changes that feel sudden aren’t exactly impulsive for the person making the changes. She might’ve been grappling with many complex issues either within or outside of the relationship and didn’t have the tools to handle it and/or didn’t know how to communicate it. She might’ve been afraid to face her strong feelings and thought goodbye was easiest done in a quick, non-emotional kind of way. It’s also interesting that she stated her intentions/boundaries at the very beginning of the friendship, changed them via her behaviors in becoming more involved with you, and then broke up with you for those same reasons. She knew what she wanted (or didn’t want), developed feelings for you and pursued those (defying her own boundaries), and then realized one day that this dynamic isn’t what she wanted and hurt you in the process. This is why sticking to your intentions and continuously communicating is so important!! It seems like you were pretty clear throughout the relationship, and maybe she just wasn’t super honest with herself, and therefore not honest with you.
I feel for you in grieving this whirlwind relationship, but I’m proud of you for working on yourself! It sounds like you’ve set aside an ample amount of time to process your emotions and figure out who you are. Not many people take time to do this, especially before or after dating, so I want to commend you for your hard work on yourself. Trust in other people will take time, which is the most annoying answer to hear. Continue to trust yourself and tell people what you’re looking for. Ask for their expectations and intentions in return. Vet future dates based on these intentions and values and stick to them. You deserve a love that won’t leave you, including love for yourself. Have patience (even though it’s truly rough out here) and let yourself grieve.
Wishing you lots of love!
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
feature image by Marcos Homem via Getty Images
I’m a Millennial (born in the early 90s), and lately I feel like I was “raised” in old queer culture and as a result don’t fit in with young/newly out queers. I realized I was queer in high school, in the mid-2000s, when my family and friends still dropped slurs and criticized gender non-conforming clothing. I came to understand my sexuality by reading queer history and theory, and through sites like AfterEllen (before…everything) — all in secret. I was the classic “watched The L Word in secret and dreaded discussions about crushes” teenage gay just trying to survive the homophobia of high school and (for me at least) college.
Now it’s 2024, gay marriage is long legal, and suddenly everyone around me seems to be so comfortable with queerness, but in a way I find alienating. Several old friends who I have long forgiven for their ignorant, homophobic high school comments are coming out as queer while married to their cis straight husbands. I don’t want them to feel invalidated, so I bury the strange grief and anger that these coming outs trigger. It’s illogical, but I feel betrayed that they got to have a “normal” childhood and now wear a pride flag; I wouldn’t feel this way about just anyone, but these are the people who told me at a young age that my “not talking about boys” made them uncomfortable, and their comments shaped how I now navigate the world with caution. My younger coworkers come out as queer all the time, but we have nothing to talk about despite being only four to five years apart in age. All of their cultural references are 20-year-old pop singers, and they hate media that used to be a touchstone in queer spaces. I was chastised for calling Angelina Jolie a queer icon, for example. I know this isn’t everyone, but I feel like so many younger queer people don’t care about queer culture older than five years and are so unforgiving about the nuances of coming out. On top of that, I am a black woman, and I feel like with queer culture becoming more mainstream I am expected to only have white women and nbs as references, and when I don’t, my sexuality is called into question. I feel invalidated when I have known about my queerness for almost two decades, but because my references aren’t from trends on TikTok, I am suddenly performing my sexuality incorrectly.
I want to be very clear that I don’t judge other people’s expressions of their sexuality, but I am judging myself for being “old.” I was raised on Alison Bechdel and watching Queer as Folk on Putlocker. Now I don’t know how to interact with newly out queer people who have King Princess and their choice of queer content on Netflix. I was made for a world that disappeared, and my peers don’t see me as a “real” gay. I have hurt and shame deep inside because I was taught to be cautious for 15 years and then suddenly (or at least how it feels to me) all the old queer experience touchstones were gone and I was outdated. How do I stop grieving when I know what we lost is probably for the better? I feel horrible because I want to support all this new queer joy, but I feel like an outsider in my own community.
First off, I totally understand where you’re coming from. It’s hard to feel like the parade has passed you by and you’re left there alone holding on to that last piece of confetti. When that’s how you feel, it’s easy to think you’re the only one, but I can assure you that you are not alone in your feelings. I also think there are a lot of different factors at play when it comes to your feeling of displacement.
I’m a few years older than you, and we’re approaching a very important life milestone: the beginning of middle age. No one wants to hear or think this, but presuming you live to be in your 80s, your 40s are in fact, middle-aged. I think for Millennials more than any other generation, the thought of turning 40 is really unsettling. Because of the collective trauma our generation has experienced at the points in our lives that we did, we are living in a huge arrested development. On paper, we’re grownups, but because of things like the housing crisis and the economy and the pandemic, etc etc etc, we still feel like a bunch of kids playing house. Because of this, we cling that much harder to the cultural touchstones that were the most relevant to us. Millennials are in the unique position where when our nostalgia is held up to the magnifying glass and examined, many of us don’t know how to react, because as much as we know that, yes, it was problematic or not representative, it’s still ours. Reconciling our levels of understanding with our levels of comfort and safety from the things we loved is definitely challenging!
I will admit I’m coming to this advice from the position of someone who has one foot in each side of your dilemma. I too figured out my queerness at a young age in the late 90s, and things were SO different back then. There were so few references to queerness for women, and many of the mainstream ones were white. My earliest examples of lesbians were Carol and Susan on Friends and Ellen. As a Black girl, I didn’t have any references for queer women that looked like me. If I’m being honest, that is still a challenge for me personally. Maybe you’ve found someone out there who makes you feel seen and represented. We came into our queerness at a time where many queer actresses were firmly NOT OUT. It was dangerous for them to be. I don’t know how much you remember the Ellen backlash, but it was brutal and scary. Angelina Jolie is absolutely a queer icon for Millennials; Gia was the movie that made me realize I was attracted to women. I know a lot of other women who will say the same.
I also put myself back in the closet for many years, and when I finally was fully ready to be out, it was 2017. I was coming out into a world that was ready to have me but was so different from what I remembered. There were so many shows with openly queer characters! Hayley Kiyoko and King Princess were pop music icons, and they were out. It’s such a jarring thing to experience when you’re used to the world where you heard your peers casually say “that’s gay” if they didn’t like someone’s sweatshirt or something. And I can understand how it’s stirring up resentment in you. You’re still trying to adjust to a world that feels like it changed really quickly.
Younger queers and folks who are at the beginning of their coming out journey are a tough group to be around sometimes for the exact reasons you’ve mentioned. There’s ample research that shows Gen Z is a more queer generation than any previous generations. Many of them came of age in an era where you could find a queer woman on any variety of TV shows. There was significantly less searching for representation and being satisfied with lackluster representation. That’s not to say they don’t have their own struggles, but when you have a coming out experience steeped in shame, it’s hard not to resent that!
One of the best things I can suggest is finding ways to expand your queer community. Being around people who are closer to your age or experience level will help to combat those feelings of otherness you’re experiencing around your current queer circle. Sometimes there are meetups or events for queer women of a certain age. I don’t know where you live, but I live in LA and there’s a group here that puts together events for queers over 30 and over 40 to be around people their own age. My partner and I have gone to a few of these nights, and it’s really refreshing to be around people who are our age and will understand our cultural references. Plus, they play old Millennial music, and it’s way more fun to dance to the music of my youth than current music.
I wanted to address what you said about your high school friends coming out later in life separately, because my goodness do I understand your feelings. It’s not illogical to have big strong feelings, especially when you know that those people made you feel bad about being queer. This happened to me with my former best friend, and it’s a big part of why our friendship ended. Seeing them have the safety of coming out, especially because hetero-presenting relationships are still the default and queer women who are in those relationships get to move through the world differently, triggers the unsafe feelings you felt. I’m glad you’ve been able to forgive them for their ignorance when they were younger, but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t sting a little.
Do you have someone you can trust to talk through these feelings? Whether it’s a therapist or just a close friend who isn’t directly involved, I really think you need to give these feelings space so that you can feel a sense of peace about it. You may never be fully over it, but you may be able to pinpoint that discomfort and work through it a little more.
Being “old” isn’t a bad thing, and there is absolutely space for you in our community. I’m so sorry the people you’re around have made you feel unwelcome because you don’t follow their narrow definition of what being a queer woman looks like. You can listen to whatever music you want, worship at the altar of whatever queer icons make YOU feel good. No one can take away the things you’ve had to overcome to get to the queer life you’re currently living. I hope you have people who respect your journey and make you feel loved and supported for the moments when these other people make you feel less than. And if you need another, you know where to find me.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
My girlfriend and I have been seeing each other for about a year, longer if we count the beginning when we were in the talking stage and non-exclusive. She brought up moving in together a few months ago, and I told her I wasn’t ready. She respected my decision but recently she reopened the conversation recently and wanted me to elaborate on why I don’t feel ready. I found it hard to really talk honestly about my reasons and we ended up fighting but I think it was mostly a mis-communication.
I’ve never lived with a partner before, but I’ve had some bad roommate experiences in the past and saved money until I could afford to live on my own. I love living alone! I love when my girlfriend sleeps over, but I also like having my own space. It takes about 20 minutes to drive between our apartments but an hour for her to get to my place from her work. I’d admit we both spend a lot of time in our cars going between our places. And the idea of sharing rent is attractive. I have a second room in my apartment but I use it as a home office and studio space. When I think about what living together looks like, I have a hard time picturing it even just in a logistics way.
I asked her if there’s a world in which we always live separately but still spend most nights together, and she didn’t say no but she also said she was having a hard time imagining it. Do people ever do this? Is it sustainable? How do people know when the time is time to move in together? Even though I’m not ready now, it’s also might be because I think it’s too soon.
My suspicion here is just that it’s too soon, and that’s okay! Do people move in together after dating for less than a year? Most don’t, but some certainly do — according to our 2018 Lesbian Stereotypes Survey, 25% of our readers had at some point moved in with someone they’d been dating for under a year. Do people live separately forever and still spend most nights together? I’m confident they do, apparently these days there is a trend of even married couples living apart. But! Forever is a long time. Do any of us know what we want to do forever? You don’t have to know that just yet!
Often the decision to move in quickly is driven by factors that don’t seem to be heavily at play for you, like needing to save money, not having the time to shuttle between apartments due to work or school or family obligations, or just generally preferring co-habitation over solo living. You’ve saved up to live alone, you like living alone, and it seems like the middle-distance relationship thing isn’t putting too much of a strain on the rest of your life, so your drive to move in might not look like everyone else’s. You don’t express any hesitation about the longevity or strength of your relationship, nor does that seem to be a factor holding you back from signing that lease. You just… like living alone and want to spend more time doing this thing that you like to do. And listen, I can relate!
I’ve lived with partners a few times — starting with a misguided college co-habitation with my then-boyfriend of nine months where I realized immediately after signing the lease that he was Not the Man For Me and promised myself to be more careful going forward. For my next four relationships I did the “living in different places but still spending every night together” arrangement. But a full decade later, in 2012, I moved in with my then-girlfriend after around two years together, which was preceded by over a year of living in different apartments in the same building. When we broke up in 2014, the real estate market in the Bay Area was bananas. The person I’d started dating couldn’t afford their own place in the area, so we made the very gay choice to move in together after six weeks of dating. It was pretty fun at first to be honest! We then got engaged, moved to the midwest and bought a house together. Although I clearly was still hopeful about our future when I answered this co-habitation question two months before we broke up, this situation eventually ended badly and I left it terrified of ever living with a partner ever again, certain it’d lead to them hating me and also me hating myself!
Which brings me to the present moment, which is like yours except we’ve had the value of two additional years together — my girlfriend and I have been together for nearly three years and we don’t live together. We live 30 minutes apart without traffic, 90 with traffic, and I spend a lot of time in my car and packing/unpacking. And I’ll tell you what, despite being a person who does enjoy living alone, I really really wish we lived together! But that overwhelming desire didn’t kick in immediately and it wasn’t until around a year ago — long after we’d started planning an indefinite future together — that we started talking more urgently about finding a place together. (Unfortunately, the Los Angles real estate market has yet to offer us an affordable option!)
So with the caveat that yes, I am projecting here based on my own personal experience — there will quite possibly come a time when you simply begin to desire more, when it feels like time, when it feels weird that someone your life is so intertwined with lives so far away. You may get tired, eventually, of all of the driving and shlepping and pre-planning involved in a mid-distance relationship. You’ll want to run errands together. You’ll wish it was easier to be there for her when she’s sick or sad, and vice versa. You may get tired of paying two separate sets of bills and buying two separate containers of peanut butter. You may want to be able to see your person in the in-between times and not just the times you’ve made a concerted effort to do so. You may want to be able to want to do different things on a Saturday night without that meaning you won’t see each other at all on Saturday night — you’ll want to be able to come home to her, or see her before.
But you might never get there, which brings me to: is there “a world in which we always live separately but still spend most nights together” is a sustainable option? I think so and I think it depends on the couple and the people in it. Famously, Annie Lebowitz and Susan Sontag lived in separate apartments directly opposite each other, but they had some coin to work with. Whatever you do, I’d ensure you live in at least a two-bedroom, if not a three bedroom. So you can have your space! (One thing I’ve never done is live in a one-bedroom with a partner, I think that can get very cramped, especially for anyone who works at home.)
My instinct is that such a thing might only be sustainable in the long-term for you and your girlfriend (who does want to live together) if you guys eventually find a way to live a little closer together. Would it be possible to live in the same building or on the same block, where you can still keep the solo space that you currently treasure, but can begin start sharing more of your lives with each other? Living an hour’s drive away from your girlfriend’s work is clearly less than ideal for her.
There definitely are people who want to live alone forever, even if they are in a serious relationship. If that turns out to be you, you’ll have to cross that bridge when you come to it and figure out an arrangement that meets your needs and hers. But I don’t think you’re at that bridge yet! I think you are still in the meadow, having a picnic. One year is really not enough time to know how you’ll feel about living together, especially if you’re still in the honeymoon phase with your own apartment after having difficult roommate situations in the past.
Finally; it sounds like your girlfriend took it personally that you didn’t want to move in together, so she might have some insecurities that your resistance is related to a lack of faith or interest in your relationship. From your letter, it sounds like that’s not where your resistance is coming from — so I’d suggest first and foremost communicating that to her. It could be helpful to talk through ways that she can feel more secure about your relationship despite living apart, or for her to understand that your love of solo living is simply a part of who you are rather than any reflection on how you feel about her.
The good news is that I’m pretty sure the longer you wait to co-habitate, the better it will be if/when you do — you’ll understand each other and your routines and habits better, you’ll be more adept at navigating the little squabbles that arise. You can figure out how to avoid the issues that plagued your previous roommate situations, and you’ll be less prone to question the entire relationship if you can’t agree about how often laundry needs to get done and who ought to do it. You’ll also have thoroughly rid yourself of the nagging concept that you wish you’d had a little more time to yourself first!
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
feature image photo by Mixmike via Getty Images
Have you ever been in a relationship with someone who doesn’t like you? I think I was in a relationship with someone who didn’t really like me. I think they found me annoying or maybe they changed their mind and held things in…I don’t know, it went on much longer than it should have and I get these like flashes of memories of things she’s said or done and it still really hurts. She broke up with me in 2020 at the start of the lockdown and I still get these flashes of painful memories.
After the breakup, we each took some space but eventually tried friendship but I felt miserable and like a doormat when we were “friends” so I’ve asked for no contact. That was 2021.
Last week, I went ice-skating and saw her at the rink and I still feel so emotional. Does anybody have experience feeling angry with a person after the break up and the anger kind of growing? With a therapist and through journaling I keep finding new things to be upset about and now I’m in a place where I’m like wow I really let her off easy and I’m angry about that. Does anyone relate to taking forever to get over a person?
I really feel like she didn’t like me and I don’t feel like my friends understand because she’s so nice to them but it was different in our relationship. Idk. I feel like an idiot for trying to be friends and I hate how angry I feel when I see her, especially when I see her having a good time. I feel pathetic! I’m hoping other people can share similar experiences and what’s helped them.
I’ve been where you are right now, and I’ve also been where (it seems like) your ex is. First things first: FEEL YOUR FEELINGS, and don’t feel bad about them. And don’t feel bad about not feeling bad about them. It sounds like you’re almost feeling guilty about being angry. As a person who was culturally raised to feel shame around anger, I totally get this. It can take me years before I realize I was wronged or something somewhat traumatic or unjust happened to me. I’m still processing a relationship from 2019! According to the many therapists I’ve held over the course of the past five years, we can only begin to process the deeper, more painful feelings once our bodies feel safe. It makes a lot of sense that you’re still mulling over the relationship. You’re finally in a place where you can take a step back from being in the intensity of the relationship.
The fact that you’re even processing in the first place tells me you’re not being pathetic have a right to be upset. You’re saying you felt hurt by them and that many moments of the relationship felt painful. You can’t blame yourself for staying in something you couldn’t see at the moment. When you tried to hold onto something you felt such real feelings for, you “felt like a doormat.” That’s not okay! That alone is something you should be mad about! Even though it’s felt like an eternity since the relationship, you’re only just now seeing the whole picture for what it was at the time. You’re learning new information you didn’t have access to before. Healing and grieving never have a timeline. It’s taken me one week to get over relationships, while it’s taken me almost a decade to get over someone I never even dated. The healing process is unique because all our wounds and vulnerabilities are all so different. If I were in your position right now, I would definitely feel upset by the resurgence of so not-so-fun feelings after I thought I gained closure with it.
Eventually, most people breaking off relationships end up with some hostility or resentment. Right now, you’re feeling a bit of that toward them. What’s more confusing for you is that they possibly didn’t like you while in the relationship, even before things started to turn sour. I can really only take guesses as to why this might be.
I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been this person in the relationship, and more than once. It was never something I was cognizant of at the moment, but months or years later, I reflect back and think about how I really didn’t like this person. I amount a lot of this to codependency and trauma-bonding. My very first girlfriend literally provided me housing and food in return for my emotional stability. We had many other toxic quid-pro-quo dynamics, but eventually I grew to resent her, because I felt like I was responsible for her emotional wellbeing. Part of it, at least for me, was also the idealization of the person that only falls flat when the honeymoon phase passes. It’s not uncommon to see relationships where one person puts the other on a pedestal or wears rose colored glasses. Only time reveals the truth of complicated dynamics and incompatibility. When this begins to happen, infatuation can switch to restatement quickly. It’s like that saying about how the line between love and hate is thin. I’m not saying it’s any excuse, but rather another perspective.
I can’t tell you why your ex may or may not have liked you. You might not even be able to discern that. You two started dating for some reason, and it ended for a reason as well. Maybe this person needed something from you at the time? Maybe they were looking for one type of relationship and ended up in another? Maybe they were still figuring themselves out and dragged you along for the ride? Maybe they were really into you and pulled away out of fear and insecurity? Maybe they were drawn to a thing in you that they hate in themselves? Relationships and attachments are messy, and until we learn to heal ourselves, we sometimes end up trying to get involved with someone who we think could heal us instead.
I don’t know the reason they may have disliked you, and it sounds like you might not even know the reason. What I would encourage you to do now is reflect on the reason this is important to you. More broadly, what would you need to find closure? Some people can get that simply by doing the internal work, while others need to hash it out with the person they were entangled with. Only you will have a better idea of what you need. Just know that moving forward you’re completely valid in your post-breakup feelings, no matter how long ago it was.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
feature image photo by Kent Andreasen for For Them
So I started testosterone as part of gender affirming treatment back in January of this year. Over this time I’ve started to realise that I might identify as a man rather than as non binary and the physical changes from the T has meant that most people now read me as male and use he/him pronouns for me.
The issue is that this should be a really positive experience, and in a lot of ways it is, but I’m also feeling incredibly sad because it feels like I’m giving up a big part of my identity. It took me a long while to come out as a teenager and ever since then I’ve been really proud to identify as gay. It’s a label that’s informed the way I move through life and being part of the queer community is important to me. Now I’m being read as a straight man with a girlfriend, it just feels really incongruent with who I am and my life experiences have been up to this point.
For example, I’ve definitely noticed the way people respond to me is different. Male privilege means that people interrupt me less/tend to be more helpful generally but conversely, I can see that women/non binary/queer people are more guarded around me – which I 100% understand because as I would be as well, but being on the other side of it feels really strange.
So even though I feel much more at ease with myself, I still feel like I’m going through a bit of an identity crisis. My girlfriend joked that she’s now the only gay one in the relationship (she’s bisexual) and that I’ll have to make peace with being a straight man – which now I’ve thought about it is true. I’m only attracted to women so it feels wrong to co-opt a word that doesn’t really apply to me anymore but I’m also genuinely a bit heartbroken to give it up. Equally, I don’t really know what spaces I’d be welcomed in anymore. For example when I was thinking about who to reach out to for advice, I immediately went to autostraddle as I’ve loved and donated to this site for years. But even as I’m writing this, I’m realising that I should maybe no longer be included in this community.
So I guess my questions are, is it still ok for me to use the word gay to describe myself even as a transmasc who’s interested only in women? And do I have to just make my peace with leaving lesbian spaces even though I’ve spent the majority of my adult life as part of that community? And is it ok to grieve that part of my life despite the fact that I’m now benefiting from male privilege? Is it ok to even submit this question to your website?
I don’t know. I’m just feeling very mixed up about everything — do you have any advice?
Hey friend! First things first, congratulations on starting testosterone. I know there’s a lot of thought and care that goes into making a decision like that, and it’s really cool to take that step towards feeling like your most authentic self. Congrats on one year. I’m in a very similar situation as you. I came out as non-binary in 2020, and it took me a long time to accept the “trans” label, mostly because I didn’t think I was deserving of it. Over the past three years, I’ve adopted the label “transmasc” and am slowly beginning to lean more binary as I prepare for top surgery and am considering starting testosterone, and I use they/he pronouns. I thought it might be helpful to know about my identity before I jump into advice.
You’re completely valid for feeling a loss of an identity that felt correct to you for so long. I still, to this day, cling onto my dyke identity despite also only dating women and presenting very masculine. You see, for me and you, dating women wasn’t the only thing that made us lesbians or gay. It’s an entire culture with a rich history of tradition, identity, protest, community, and so much more. Who we have sex with is just one piece of that puzzle, and maybe for you, it’s a small piece. It’s natural for us to want to hold onto that, and I don’t think anything we do with hormone replacement therapy or pronouns needs to take that away from us.
Where I do think we should be conscientious is why and how we experience privilege as masc-presenting folks in the world, and especially in the queer world. You’re already recognizing the ways in which you’re experiencing life as a passing trans guy, which is miles ahead of what most cis men are doing. It’s a tricky thing, because passing can be so affirming (while also recognizing it’s not a competition, it’s not the end-all-be-all, etc.) but can also mean we walk through life a little differently now. Perhaps there are ways you can signal your safety to folks without outing yourself or putting your mental or physical safety at risk. Maybe it’s a pin or a flag or just the way you handle the space you take up in lesbian spaces. You can even ask your lesbian friends about ways in which you can take up less space in those situations, and they may have helpful suggestions for you.
Because yes, sure, technically as a trans dude, a lesbian bar or event may not be the most accurate space for you. But…there are no trans guy bars. There are hardly any transmasc-specific spaces, and those become less and less abundant the further away you get from major cities. So we pivot, and we choose a space that is most comfortable or known to us, and that happens to be lesbian spaces. In my opinion, so long as you’re not hogging the pool table, mansplaining, or picking fights, you’re more than valid in being there. I live in New York City, where lesbian spaces are fading all around us, and me and my transmasc homies are always hanging at dyke bars. We patronize the business, we tip our bartenders well, we don’t get in the way, and we sing our hearts out to MUNA when it comes on.
On the other hand, there is something to be said about this limbo in community that you’re feeling. Why not lean a little bit the other way just to try it out? So, rather than bask in the comfort of the lesbian spaces you know and love, why not take a bit of a risk and try to make community with other trans guys? Again, there may not be physical spaces for us the way that there are for cis gay men and for lesbians, but there are online communities and other opportunities to engage with folks like me and you. I’ve made a ton of transmasc friends through social media, recreational sports teams, and hobbies like comedy! I know that making friends as an adult is already hard, but it can really make a difference to have folks in your corner who can relate to your day-to-day life.
Recently, and with the expansion of queer discourse online, there’s been a lot of conversations around the definition of lesbian, and more specifically, who is allowed to be one. Some transphobic folks, and more specifically, TERFs, believe you must be a cis woman, others argue it’s for any non-male to claim, and a lot of the younger generation couldn’t give a shit who uses a label as long as they do so with respect. At the end of the day, labels are up to the individual. And yes, they change! I went from being a cis-het woman to a bisexual woman to a lesbian woman to a nonbinary lesbian to a transmasc lesbian. I think the most important thing about that evolution is that we try our best to live in authenticity, contribute to our communities, protect our siblings, and create a better world for new generations of queer folks to come.
While I still use the terms lesbian and dyke to describe myself, I have also really enjoyed using queer as a descriptor. It’s such a great way to make an umbrella statement: I am not cis-het. And maybe it describes who I have sex with, maybe it’s about my gender, but mostly it’s about living a life that is outside of pretty much every binary. Have you experimented much with using this descriptor/label? How would you feel about spending a few days or weeks using it as a label to yourself and to trusted loved ones and see how it feels? It might help you still feel the familiarity and comfort of identifying as gay while also more accurately and really, vaguely, describing your identity.
I truly admire how thoughtful you are as you navigate this new part of your life, this new way you’re being perceived by the outside world. As trans folks, we are constantly juggling multiple avenues of oppression, countless opportunities to feel dehumanized throughout the day, and, as you said, identity crises. The fact that you are taking others’ feelings of safety and comfort into account as you go on this journey is so beautiful and so representative of what being a part of this community is. I think all of your questions and concerns are valid, and you shouldn’t feel bad for having doubts or apprehensions about any of this.
However, I think you should give yourself some grace. I think you should take as much time as you need and even if it’s little by little, chip away at the root of some of your questions. Internalized transphobia could be at the root of not wanting to give up the gay label. Wanting to remain in lesbian spaces might be a self-preservation technique, because maybe you’re not ready to hit Buffalo Wild Wings for the Bills game with the boys just yet. You are quite literally going through, and please forgive the pun, a transition. These things take time. Don’t let the male privilege get to your head, and continue to have open, honest conversations with the queer folks in your life, even if you conduct little check-ins like “Hey, I recognize I’m the only guy here tonight, is that cool with y’all?”
As for your concerns with your belonging within the Autostraddle community, you are welcome here. You are celebrated here. Your being here is crucial in expanding the queer community as a whole, rather than one specific label. I’m going to link some pieces we have put out recently that are written by and for transmasculine folks, but I also want you to know that we don’t only have to consume content that is by us and for us (but it’s pretty dope when it is). Autostraddle is historically and famously a lesbian publication, but lesbians date trans folks, sometimes they become trans, sometimes they are trans or they have a trans best friend or trans sibling, and so on and so forth. We can all learn from being in community with one another, and I would go as far as to argue that it makes us all better queers when we can understand experiences outside of our own.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
Hi there,
I’ve been feeling pretty guilty, because I know us queer people pride ourselves on becoming friends with our exes…but I’m not sure I’m interested in this specific relationship without the intimacy of dating.
So I started dating this person last summer, and we had a pretty great time with it. I felt like we were moving not too fast, not too slow. But also, we were having a lot of sex; not to often, but enough that it shaped the relationship. I liked getting to know them but I have to admit that the physical intimacy (it’s been pretty rare in my life) was a good part of it, and there were a lot of great convos around sex.
Over a month ago, they came to me and said they didn’t want to have sex anymore, and to sum it up, wanted to start being friends (we were never really friends in the first place). It was not necessarily easy for me, but I wanted to respect their decision and give friendship a shot, so we kept spending a lot of time together, sleeping (actually sleeping) together and doing all sorts of activities. The problem is that recently I’ve realised it wasn’t working out for me. I still feel that I want something romantic with them, and I can’t seem to be satisfied with being friends. Also I’ve realized this person seems to mostly show their vulnerability during sex and is very hard to access emotionally outside of it. I feel disconnected from them and mostly sad, sometimes frustrated. I’ve tried to talk to them about it but they kept saying that they didn’t think about it, and everything felt fine.
I don’t know if this a good idea to keep trying, or is it okay to recognize that we worked as lovers but not as friends…or should I just take some distance and see how things change?
Queer culture all around us tells us we can be friends with our exes. For some people, this transition from whatever it was (romantic, sexual, etc.) to friends is pretty simple. That has never been the case for me, and I’m here to assure you that you don’t need to be friends with your ex. I’m not friends with a single one of my exes. While I admit that sometimes I’m jealous of folks who can stay platonically close to people they’ve dated, I look back on how all my relationships ended and can rest in knowing that person is out of my life for a reason. I realize my opinion is in the minority, but I’ll always stand behind folks who want to end relationships for good.
It’s particularly difficult to maintain a friendship with someone you have feelings for or someone whose intentions are mismatched from yours. From how you’re describing the nature of your relationship, it sounds like you had a great sexual connection. You found someone you had natural chemistry with and could talk to about any sex questions. I might be off base here, but I get the sense that these sexual feelings translated into romantic feelings for you…which is totally fine! What I’m noticing here is that this may not have happened for your partner. While I certainly can’t speak for this other person, the way you’re framing their reason for wanting to be friends makes me think that they consider your relationship mostly sexual. Many people enter into various types of dating/sex/situationships for different reasons, and it can be tricky when you and the person you’re in it with want different things. Even if you just enjoyed the sex and wanted it to stay slightly sexual/slightly romantic, this person wants sex or friends, nothing in between. Just like some people can be friends with exes, some people can have relationship dynamics that are just friends who have sex occasionally.
You mentioned your ex/friend mostly shows their vulnerability during sex “and is very hard to access emotionally outside of it.” They sound somewhat emotionally unavailable, especially since their response to you wanting to talk is “everything is fine.” Everything is not fine for you, and a friend with good intentions would respect your relationship enough to enter into this dialogue. Maybe they’re not ready to do this, and that’s okay, too. If they aren’t ready to even enter into an intimate platonic conversation, it makes me question if you’ll ever feel satisfied in any type of relationship with them.
You’re asking all the right questions; Should I keep trying? Should I accept closure? Should I wait it out and see how things change? I’m not going to tell you what to do. Only you will know what feels good in your body. Maybe get curious about how this is all making you feel. How is your body responding to to being just friends? Do you feel any sense of relief when you think about ending things for good? Do you feel like you want to gift them your patience while they figure things out? Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to lean into your gut feeling. As someone who puts off making decisions so much that the decision is often made for me, I can assure you that even if you wait for something to happen, that is a decision as well. Mull over how each of these options affect you and remember you deserve the love and time you’re willing to give to others.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
How do I go into the new year feeling anything other than dread and exhaustion? NYE/NYD has always been the most stressful holiday for me, and I’d like it to feel less scary. I want it to feel like an actual fresh start but I’m not sure how.
What you’re describing is so real. Everything from the economy to politics (especially as QPOC folks!!!), and even personal stuff like health and relationships feel so much heavier in the past few years than ever before. It makes us all wonder how any of us can go on into the new year with any sense of feeling renewed or hopeful. I get that sense that you’ve held New Year’s traditions in the past that just don’t sit the same, or maybe this particular holiday holds a certain collection of memories or expectations that aren’t serving you. Whatever the case, I can feel even through your message that no matter what you end up doing, you might be really struggling with your mental health overall. I’ve totally been there, and I have a few suggestions you can take or leave.
You’re holding the weight of the entire new year on your shoulders. No one is blaming you, though. Western consumerism is structured to make us feel like we should have our life together, planned, and ready for action on January 1. Frankly, this is some bullshit. We have an entire year to explore and navigate what life brings us or what we’ve been manifesting. However, there’s definitely a certain sense of relief that comes with the idea of “starting over.” What immediately comes to mind is the season we’re in: winter. Winter calls us to hibernate, reflect, and settle into routines or patterns we’ve carved out for ourselves throughout the past year. I find it odd that we, as a collective Western culture, place so much emphasis on change in the middle resting seasons. It feels counterproductive. I’ve spent the past few years reconceptualizing the structure of my own year based upon seasons. For me, it makes a lot more sense to do rituals that renew and reflect as spring starts to blossom from winter. It’s the season for new ideas, warmer weather, and taking smaller steps towards action. Even though the pressure of a new year tells us to rethink our lives, the first step could be reframing why that doesn’t work for you (and honestly for most people).
We may not be able to control the cultural and social pressures of what NYE/NYD brings, but we can tailor it to our own lives in smaller steps or traditions. One way to press pause on carrying exhaustion into the new year is to wrap up this current year with some closure. One of my intimate traditions is reflecting on the year’s ups and downs and molding it into one word to bring closure and perspective. Last year, my word was “closer.” Sometimes it’s overwhelming to move forward if we haven’t processed the past. Once you’ve processed 2023, take only baby steps to picturing your 2024. I know folks who create Pinterest mood boards to capture the essence of what they want their year to look like. I know other folks who get together with loved ones and share their intentions for the new year. My cousin and I actually agreed to have a little “powerpoint night” where we throw a bunch of images into a slideshow and describe what we’re feeling about this year, next year, or in the current moment. Having someone around to just process this with can make all the difference.
Finally, another option I always recommend to folks over the winter holidays is seeking mental health support. If you have a therapist, bring all the above suggestions to them. If you don’t have a therapist, consider what steps you need to take to getting one. You can also reach out to many different help lines at any time throughout the holiday stress.
Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – CALL OR TEXT 9-8-8
Talkspace
Trans Lifeline – 877-565-8860
The Trevor Project – 1-866-488-7386
This time of year inherently brings stress, so please treat yourself with kindness. Give yourself permission to rest, do nothing, or opt out of traditions that aren’t serving you. Seek the things or people that bring you comfort. Allow yourself to feel whatever you actually feel with the trust that a refreshing start is coming, just maybe not on January 1. I’m wishing you the type of New Year you need, whatever that is.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
A recent question about cats in relationships encouraged me to bring this question here! I’ve been seeing my girlfriend for a little over 8 months, and things are going well! We thought about moving in together around the six month mark. It was partially a financial decision, but we’re also both eager to live together as the back and forth between apartments is starting to feel silly and we’re really really ready for the next step! I was the one who put it on pause for a bit though, and I told her it was because I’m not quite ready to part ways with my personal space yet, and thankfully she was understanding but I feel bad because I wasn’t…entirely honest. It’s not so much that I don’t want to give up my space…it’s that I’m having trouble imagining sleeping with a dog in the bed every single night.
My girlfriend has a super sweet lab mix who I love dearly, but I’m very new to the concept of sleeping with a dog in the bed. I thought they made dog beds for this exact reason?! I’m not even grossed out per se…it’s more like I just wake up a lot when sharing the bed with her dog because he snores, gets up to move around, and makes me overheat. It’s fine for sleepovers here and there at my gf’s but I greatly prefer when she sleeps at mine for this exact reason. (She brings the dog over, but he sleeps in a dog bed when at mine which she was super open to from the get because she understood me not wanting him in my own bed.)
It makes sense to me to set my own rules about the dog in my place, but if I move in with her, I don’t think I’ll have as much of a say over what the dog can and can’t do especially because the dog is used to sleeping in her bed at this point. But I genuinely am not sure I can imagine sleeping with a dog EVERY NIGHT for the rest of my future! Am I overthinking this? Will I just get used to it? Is there specific etiquette for moving in with someone when it comes to like new house rules or something? I love my girlfriend and I love her dog! I just also love sleep!
I honestly love that people are bringing me their pet drama! And fortunately, I can answer this one pretty easily as I too was someone who as a bit hesitant about sharing a bed with a dog upon moving in with my now-fiancee.
First of all, I think it’s totally normal to have reservations about this. I’m not surprised you delayed the move-in process because of it. It’s a big deal! Mixing sleeping patterns and habits is one of the harder parts of moving in with someone. And mixing pets or starting to live with a pet full time are big deals, too. I actually want to start with one of the questions near the end of your letter: Is there specific etiquette for moving in with someone when it comes to like new house rules or something? I think this is an interesting and complex question! I have almost always been the person to move in with a partner rather than them moving in with me. The first time I did it in a serious way, I didn’t vocalize any of my preferences for house rules. I just fully adopted my ex’s way of living. Part of this was because I was young — both in terms of literal age but also in my queerness. I hadn’t been out for very long, and I struggled to really advocate for my true wants and needs in a relationship.
When I moved in with my current partner, I had more confidence and understood myself better. A lot of this actually came from a bout of acute insomnia I experienced at the end of my last relationship that affected me on so many levels I was determined to never let myself fall back into it if possible! So one of the first things I said to my girlfriend as we were moving in together after being long distance for a while was that I didn’t want a television in the bedroom. She agreed to adhere to this even though she was sacrificing something she’d always lived with. And it’s not like I would have ended the relationship if she hadn’t agreed; but her willingness to bend a bit was deeply meaningful to me. I think the partner who is moving in with someone should get some say in the living arrangements and rules and this shouldn’t be seen as an imposition. Because sure, the other person has already been living there and has their habits and preferences, but introducing a new person to a space fundamentally changes the space. You’re the one moving in, but both you and your girlfriend are taking this step together.
I had no clue what I was really getting into by living with my girlfriend’s French bulldog. I hadn’t thought about it much early in the relationship, because in addition to being long distance, I also assumed when we moved in together that I would be bringing my cat from my previous relationship. Maybe this would make some people more anxious — I know mixing pets can be hard! But in my mind, it was more of a level playing field; we both would have a furry companion with us during the transition to living together. I wasn’t bringing much from my previous life: no furniture, no kitchen things, just clothes and books really. But my cat felt like an important tether to my life before and like a sense of stability during major change.
Things didn’t go the way I expected. My ex kept the cat. I freaked out. I didn’t have my tether anymore. But then I turned a corner and just decided to lean all the way into change, into uncertainty. I moved in with my partner and her dog under pretty high stakes conditions: We were moving across the country to a city neither of us had ever lived in for a semester-long residency she got that then turned into a much longer residency because it was early 2020. I like to say we went from long distance to lockdown.
We nested when we first got to her residency, excited to make things cozy and ours. But then the pandemic began and there wasn’t really time to figure out how to live together under normal circumstances, so we got a crash course in cohabitation. All during this time, I was indeed adjusting to the fact of the dog and the fact of her sleeping in the bed with us.
I grew up around dogs but never with one in the house. The dogs I did know slept in dog beds. Now, this French bulldog might be small (and probably is smaller than your gf’s lab mix?) but she is not exactly a silent, still presence. She snores. She gets cold and then wants to be covered. She makes her presence known. And I love her dearly! I was calling her my “stepdogter” within the first month of living with her.
But I won’t lie: Adjusting to having her in the bed was hard. Here are some things I wish I’d had a better understanding of when moving in with a dog: You can definitely be strict with them about which part of the bed they occupy. I sort of just let the Frenchie smash up against me if she wanted to, and my partner was like “you know you can make her stay at the end of the bed right?” I did not know that! Having a blanket that’s specifically hers at the end of the bed helps with this, too. And then it’s easy to wash that blanket separately from your own bedding if you want.
Another thing that helped immensely: upgrading from the full-size bed we had at the residency to a California king. I’m not sure what size bed your girlfriend has but…for as expensive as they are, a giant bed is well worth it when there are bed pets involved.
But something that gives me a lot of hope about your specific situation is that you haven’t actually moved in together yet, which means you are absolutely in a perfect place to actually talk about this with your girlfriend and see if there are possible compromises or solutions to be made. How much does she know about your reluctance to share a bed with the dog? If she’s being an understanding and reasonable partner, she won’t take this reluctance as some sort of indictment of her dog. If she does, that’s a problem honestly! It should be perfectly fine for you to say you’re unsure or nervous about sleeping with the dog every night. This was a literal conflict on The Ultimatum: Queer Love, and I do not think Tiff handled it very well when Sam said she didn’t really want to sleep with the dog. Pets are important parts of our lives, of course. But it should be normal to expect some growing pains when asking a partner to move in with your pets. There will be an adjustment period, and there will likely be some concessions or changes that need to be made to make everyone comfortable. That’s just part of moving in with someone in general.
I’m glad to hear there are at least different sleeping arrangements when you sleep at your place, which makes me think your girlfriend does have some knowledge of your preferences but also makes me think it could be possible to shift the dog’s behaviors if that’s what you and your girlfriend decide to do. If he can sleep in a dog bed at your place, it might be an easy transition to get him to sleep in a dog bed all the time or at least part time. It’s of course possible your girlfriend won’t want to change the dog’s behavior. Perhaps she actually sleeps better with him in the bed. But I think she should at least be open to hearing your thoughts and should take this seriously; your sleep is important, too! And once there are sleep-related problems when it comes to living with someone, I feel like that can be a really slippery slope into bigger issues, because sleep really affects so many parts of of health and lives!
I don’t think you’re overthinking this. I think it’s a really significant thing. But I also don’t think it has to be some automatic relationship dealbreaker. I do think you should talk about it before you commit to moving in. You were ultimately right to delay that timeline, but you should definitely be more honest with her about why you delayed.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
Can my spouse and I boil our menstrual cups to sanitize them at the same time — like in the same pot in one go? To me it feels unsanitary, but as they point out, anything in or on the cup has been in or on our hands and mouths, so…is there any sanitary reason NOT to?
Let me preface this by saying: I am not a medical professional! But I am someone who menstruates, and while I do not personally use a menstrual cup (didn’t work for me!), I have loads of people in my life who do, and I spoke to some of them about if they have specific experience with co-boiling menstrual cups and shall now present that information to you to do with what you will!
While I was met with a lot of “it’s probably fine”-style answers, one immediate hesitation from folks was the question of whether you and your spouse are perfectly synced. It’s possible you are, and if so, wow kudos on the queer magic of that! My partner and I are synced not in the sense of starting/stopping our cycles at the same time but rather in the sense that we almost perfectly take turns so that at least one of us is almost always on our period except for MAYBE a week-ish a month. FUN! (Okay, partially exaggerating, I’m also kind of irregular so sometimes it’s not as all-consuming). You really should be boiling your cups right after your period so you’re not allowing bacteria to build up. Even if your cycles are ending only a day or so apart, it would be advisable to just boil separately, timed to when you each end.
But assuming you are ending on the same day and the cups are ready for boiling at the same time, again, the opinions of my non-medical but queer and cup-using pals were basically that it’s okay to do if it’s okay with you. Assuming you already engage in regular fluid exchange with each other, this isn’t really all that different and in fact isn’t really the same as fluid exchange during sex because you are sanitizing both items. (I assume you use the pot you boil the cups in for other purposes, because it’s not like the pot is being contaminated during the process.) It’s advised to clean your cups before boiling, so they’re already going in with some level of fluid removal, too. Someone else I spoke with said she puts silicon-based sex toys in the top rack of her dishwasher and still puts dishes on the bottom rack. Everything is getting cleans/sanitized together like one big happy family.
Of course, technically any time you’re inserting something into your body, there’s a risk of bacteria. But I haven’t been able to find compelling evidence anywhere online that boiling two cups from two different people who are already regularly exchanging fluids would increase this chance.
All that said, if the idea of it simply doesn’t sit right with you, then I think it’s perfectly fine to tell your spouse you’d rather just boil them separately! We all have little things we’re particular about, and if this is your thing, that’s okay! As one of the people I spoke with put it: There are other ways to save water. And boiling them separately doesn’t amount to LOADS of extra time.
And if you have further questions or concerns, please do reach out to a health professional — especially one who specializes in sexual health or menstrual health — for for information. I’m kind of surprised I couldn’t find any instances of people asking this exact question anywhere else online! It does sound like a uniquely queer conundrum. Would love to hear what people in the comments might advise based on personal experience or knowledge!
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
I know that as a lesbian this is sacrilegious, but I don’t really like cats. I have tried to fight this feeling for much of my life, tentatively patting friends’ cats and smiling at funny videos, but much like my sexuality, no amount of faking it could change me. My family always had several big, friendly, cozy dogs when I was growing up and just don’t really ‘get’ cats or why you would want one in your home.
The issue is, my girlfriend and I moved in together a few months ago after three years of dating, and she has a cat — so now, by default, I have a cat. I’ve tried, genuinely really hard to warm to him. He’s a sweet enough cat and I’ve sometimes had fun playing with him, and I do enjoy when he curls into a little loaf.
But I just can’t get past this negative feeling towards him. I don’t like the way he climbs all over the furniture, don’t like having to hide my stuff so he won’t scratch it, don’t like having a litter box in our living room, don’t like the creepy way he stares at me…I could go on. I recognize these are all pretty minor things, but it all just makes me that bit less comfortable in my home and I feel my mood darken when I hear his meow. I am aware that I sound like a terrible person and this is why I can’t discuss the issue with friends.
My girlfriend is aware I’m not the biggest cat person and we talked a bit about my concerns before we moved in together. He’s not allowed in our bedroom, and she’s conscious of dealing with his litter etc. But I don’t want to tell her that I’m struggling now because she’d only be stressed and upset and there’s nothing she could do.
I don’t want my girlfriend to get rid of her cat, of course, that would be a horrible thing to do and our relationship definitely wouldn’t recover. I just want to learn to love (or at least like) this creature who will now be part of my life for the next ten or so years (all being well with my relationship and the cat’s health). How can I do this?
First of all, I just want to affirm that it is perfectly okay to not like cats. I say this as a cat person! It is okay to not like cats, and it is not required of gays to like cats despite any stereotypes that might exist. You are also not a terrible person, and if you do want to talk about this with your friends, I think they would be open to it. Who knows — some of them might be able to relate and offer advice! Because I think your situation is perhaps more common than you realize. Merging pets — as with a lot of the things that come with moving in with partner — can be tricky to navigate.
You already did things right by talking about this before moving in together. So great work on that front! I’m glad you talked about your concerns with the cat ahead of time, and I’m glad there are already some solutions in place like not allowing the cat into the bedroom. If anyone else is reading this piece who might soon be a similar situation, DO WHAT THIS PERSON DID! Talk about it before you move in with someone. That’ll make it so much easier to have ongoing conversations.
So, on that topic, I know you probably see this coming, but you do have to talk about it again with your girlfriend. You can preface this by telling her you really are trying (it sounds like you are!) and that you’re grateful for the ways she’s already being accommodating about making you feel more comfortable in the house. But sometimes it takes a while to truly get used to new living situations, and sometimes it takes renegotiating compromises.
It sounds like you’ve made a genuine effort with the cat but things are still bothering you. So, now is the time to talk to your girlfriend about how you’re really feeling. This might be a very difficult conversation. Pet people tend to be intense about our pets. But I hope you can both approach the conversation from a place of mutual understanding and a desire to figure out ways to cohabitate with minimal friction — and when I say cohabitate I also mean you and the cat not just you and the girlfriend!
Some if not all of the things you outline do sound like they could be addressed in a conversation with your girlfriend. Let’s go through each one and see if there are possible solutions or compromises to try out!
I don’t like the way he climbs all over the furniture. This is a possibly solvable problem. While it can be difficult to train cats, sometimes people are actually the stubborn ones when it comes to training cats — not the cats themselves. It’s worth asking your girlfriend if she’s open to incentivizing the cat to no longer be on the furniture as much. Or maybe not to climb on particular pieces of furniture. If she agrees to it, then you can both test out some methods of enforcing new rules for the cat. Don’t spend a bunch of money on the sprays that are supposedly deterrents. Most of them are kind of scammy. You can Google all sorts of cat training tips and tricks. Focus on the ones that prioritize rewarding the cat rather than punishing; they’re usually more effective. We’re still in the process of trying to get our cat to stop scratching our couch, and so far the thing that has worked best has been moving a cat scratcher to right next to the couch and moving him to that any time he tries to scratch the couch. It has helped a lot. Again, while it can be difficult to change or redirect a cat’s behavior, it’s not impossible. And even if you can’t prevent the cat from being on any furniture, it’s possible there are some compromises here! Did you bring some of your own furniture into the space? Since that furniture is newer to the cat, it could be easier to make it off limits.
I won’t lie: It’s possible none of these things will work or at least not work perfectly. And it’s kind of up to you if it’s worth the hassle and time to even try. There’s only so much we can control pets, especially cats. But I think anything that might make you feel more comfortable in what is now your home too is worth at least trying.
I don’t like having to hide my stuff so he won’t scratch it. Yeah this one is definitely tough! Would love to hear if any cat owners have suggestions in the comments. I wonder if this speaks at all to any broader issues: Do you have places in the home that feel like yours? Do you feel like adequate space has been made to store your stuff? It can be hard to be the person moving into a partner’s space, and I hope you have things and areas that do feel like yours, which sometimes gets complicated when there’s a pet in the house since they tend to, well, treat the entire place like it belongs to them, especially cats.
I don’t like having a litter box in our living room. This is the one I actually feel most confident about coming up with a compromise for. Understandably, I do think litter boxes are one of the biggest sticking points when moving in with a cat when you’re not really a cat person. Is there any other room that would make you feel better for it to be located? For most cats, it’s pretty intuitive for their litter boxes to be moved. I’m not sure what kind of litter box your girlfriend currently has, but is it worth it to look into other options that reduce smell, dust, etc? There are self-cleaning ones and some that use alternatives to traditional litter. These higher end litter boxes get pricey, but it could still be worth trying out. I also have friends who got really creative with hiding their cat’s litter box: They bought a small cabinet from IKEA with a door (something like this), placed the litter box inside it, and cut a hole in the back of it so the cat could easily get in and made that back part face a wall with enough room for the cat to still maneuver into it. Then when they need to clean it, they open the door at the front, slide the box out, clean it, slide it back, and close the door. They did this so their dog wouldn’t be able to get into it, but it also doubles as a creative way to keep a litter box unseen in a home. The cabinet also lends an extra protective layer against smells.
I don’t like the creepy way he stares at me. This one, I gotta be real honest, is probably the least solvable one of the list 😭 cats do indeed just stare creepily sometimes. While I don’t see this as likely to change, I think it’s possible that if some of the other things on your list are addressed and your girlfriend works with you to reach compromises about the cat then it’s possible this won’t bother you as much as it currently does! This one might not be worth bringing up with your girlfriend since I don’t really see a way to shift it, and I think part of what will help with your girlfriend not getting stressed or overwhelmed is sticking to focusing on reasonable shifts that can be made. And I don’t say that to make you feel weird or like you’re being unreasonable! In fact, I’m confident from your letter to know you’ll understand why it probably isn’t reasonable to expect this one to change.
I think being open and honest with your girlfriend — if not sharing all of it — could lead to some further compromises which could in turn lead to a better relationship with the cat. I think it’s important to temper expectations. You might not fall in love overnight, so I like that you’re already striving for at least liking if not fully loving right away. It’s true that living with your girlfriend requires living with the cat, but loving your girlfriend doesn’t necessarily require loving the cat. It just requires making an effort, which you’re already in the process of doing. For what it’s worth, it sounds like you live with an easy-ish cat, so that’s good! If you don’t like cats, you don’t like cats. But you do like your girlfriend, and the cat comes with her. You can treat this as an ongoing process and open ended conversation. Letting things bottle up might make it so much worse.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
I have been at my job a few years and have been assigned a new hire/recent graduate to mentor, which I’m really excited about! It was something I really enjoyed at my old job.
I am a queer 30-something who is not really sure how they identify. I’ve been out as something for nearly 20 years, survived losing jobs, being denied housing, threats of conversion therapy from family members, and countless conversations about how I’m going to hell. And I’m working on all of this with a supportive partner (and intermittently with therapists).
My new mentee has come out to me as bisexual. And I didn’t come out to her.
I have come out to some people at work as bi, a member of the lgbtqia community, “clearly not straight if you Google me,” and “yeah, I date women.” These were all people I met once/twice who no longer work there or regularly interact with me. There is a possibility she told me this because she knows! But I really want our mentorship to be work focused. I don’t want to be the center of the conversation, and I at times have a hard time relating to other lgbtqia people whose parents aren’t fundamentalist Christians because of everything above. Is the risk of that worth it to come out to her specifically? How could/should I come out to her and make sure to center her experience?
Ultimately, this comes down to your own boundaries. If you don’t want to be out to your mentee, I think that’s a perfectly fine choice to make. I do, however, hope you’ll consider the other side of things.
I think especially because of some of your own personal experiences of being out in the workplace — including losing jobs, being denied housing, etc. — you could be a really good source to speak with your mentee about the realities of being out. I’m not sure where geographically you work or what your industry is, but if it’s one where it’s complicated to be out (and hell, that’s most places and industries if we’re being honest!), but it’s possible your mentee could benefit from knowing she can talk to you safely at work if need be. You don’t have to get into your own personal history if you don’t want to. In fact, you can say pretty much exactly what you wrote in your letter and be like “I’m also queer, and while I want you to feel like I can listen to workplace-related challenges pertaining to your identity, I’d like to keep our mentorship work-focused.”
It’s possible your mentee can’t really separate her identity from her work life. I know I’ve struggled with that in different situations. The mentor-mentee relationship can be really special, and I think you could run the risk of suggesting talking about sexuality is inappropriate in this context (I don’t think that’s what you’re saying for the record! I just think it could be interpreted that way).
It’s fine that you don’t relate to LGBTQIA folks who didn’t grow up in fundamentalist Christian households. I think that’s a pretty common thing for people with your background to feel. I don’t think your mentee is looking for someone to perfectly relate to or even confide in on a deep level but rather just seeking some connection and figuring out if she can talk to you openly about any discrimination, microaggressions, etc. that she might encounter in the workplace. I’m not totally sure what you mean by asking about the risk of having a hard time relating being worth it. I think it’s totally possible to give meaningful advice — including workplace advice — to folks whose experiences diverge from your own. My guess is you don’t have to perfectly understand her perspective in order to be a helpful mentor.
Again, it’s your boundaries. You always get to choose who you are and are not out to. Especially at work. I do think there’s a way to maintain some of your boundaries while still opening the door a bit to your mentee to be able to talk about workplace-specific queer issues. There’s definitely a middle ground here: You can come out but also be clear about your boundary of not wanting to discuss your own identity in depth.
You mention using a few different ways to label yourself and also that you’re not really sure how you identify, and I wonder if that might be part of the root of why you’re hesitant to come out to her. That’s totally fine! You don’t have to be sure, and you don’t have to be specific when you come out if you don’t want to. I saw you wrote queer in your letter, and that is indeed a useful umbrella term if it feels alright. You can even be more vague if you want and say something like “I’ve experienced workplace discrimination because of my sexuality” or something like that. It can be casual; it doesn’t have to be a big thing. But I think it could deepen your connection with your mentee in a really meaningful way. I know I would have benefitted greatly in the beginning of my career if I’d had mentors I knew shared at least some aspect of my queer identity.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
I have a dilemma that you all might have advice on.
I’m an agender, biromantic asexual in my early 30s who would love to be in a relationship. I’ll admit I’m not great with flirting or initiating relationships, but I’m wondering if I give off “straight vibes” or something. Nobody comes up to flirt or ask me out either in general life or at queer events.
I’m an introvert by nature but years of customer service work means I can pretend to be more outgoing, and I’m a pretty warm and friendly person, or so my friends say. I have even tried dressing ‘more queer’ but I still seem to fly under the radar.
My question is: How can I make myself more obvious to the girls, gays and they’s around me? How do other people usually attract others?
Hi! Believe it or not, this is a pretty common dilemma for LGBTQIA folks of all identities and personalities! While I do think extreme extroverts sometimes have it easy because they’re willing to walk up to strangers and say “hi I’m gay” or can more comfortably “make the first move” in flirting situations, I consider myself to be somewhere in the middle of the introvert/extrovert spectrum and still intermittently struggled with flagging as queer in dating/flirting contexts when I was single.
As far as wanting more people to come up to you and flirt or ask you out, confidence and having a strong sense of self goes a long way. Be yourself. Don’t change aspects of your personality. I already see you identifying some of your own strengths in this letter. You say you’re warm and friendly, so lean into those things. I do think dating and “putting yourself out there” does often necessitate stepping outside of your comfort zone a little bit. Sometimes, you really do get what you give. What I’m saying is you might have to occasionally approach people instead of waiting for them to approach you. The more you do it, the more practice you’ll get. But it’s also possible that if people see you going up to others at queer events, they’ll feel more comfortable coming up to you, too.
There isn’t a secret formula for attracting others, but again, confidence does go a long way. Think about the things you like about yourself. Write them down even. Those things you like about yourself are things someone else could like, too. Assume everyone thinks you’re hot. These might sound like silly little self-love exercises, but they indeed will build your confidence muscles, which will in turn help you when it comes to meeting people.
I wouldn’t take it personally that people aren’t approaching you first. To be honest, I think everyone is struggling with social skills and meeting new people these days, something I usually connect back to periods of isolation during the early parts of the ongoing Covid pandemic.
As for making yourself “more obvious to the girls, gays, and theys” around you, this is something I still struggle with sometimes. Even though I’m monogamously partnered now, I still like flagging as queer in social settings, especially because I’m trying to make more queer friends. That has felt even more urgent to me but also more complicated since moving to Florida. Having queer friends here feels so meaningful. But I also can’t always flag in the easy ways I did before, like when I would wear my Autostraddle DYKE DRAMA shirt to bars in New York. There are plenty of safe spaces where I could wear that shirt here in Orlando, but there are also contexts where I wouldn’t want to have my queerness on as big of a display. That said, I’ve found a lot of ways to subtly flag, like wearing a beaded bracelet that says DYKE (which would only really be visible close up) or tbh by wearing my Yellowjackets letterman, which has led many a queer to approach me to talk about the show. My friend made really cute earrings for herself that are in the colors of the ace flag, which her fellow ace folks are usually able to clock but which just sort of look like funky earrings to those not “in the know.” You can definitely get creative like that!
It’s truly that sometimes ace folks can feel invisible in queer spaces. Ace writer and academic Ela Przybylo wrote a really great essay about it and other discrimination ace folks face for Ace Week this year. If you don’t already have a strong community of ace friends in your life, I highly recommend working in that in tandem with your efforts to date. Dating and seeking out relationships is always easier when you have a strong network of friends and sense of community.
Good luck out there! I promise you’re not giving off straight vibes, because that’s not really a thing. Dating is hard, and sometimes you really do have to take risks and get uncomfortable in order to connect with strangers. It’s okay to wait for people to approach you, but I think a mixture of being the person to approach someone else and letting people come up to you might be the way to go here. Have fun, be yourself, and show off the parts of your personality you like best.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
I’m a queer cis woman in my late twenties and I feel completely undateable and with no idea how to get around it. When I try to put myself out there it typically has the effect of getting my hopes up and letting me down again, which leads to a few months of rocky mental health where I’m too afraid to try again. I can’t do this forever. I want to meet someone and at very least I’d like to have some kind of sex life, but every attempt seems like 1 step forward and 2 steps back.
I have lots of fantastic friends who are really supportive, but most are long-term coupled straight friends or queer friends who seem to find dating extremely easy, fun and plentiful, and neither group’s advice/ half hearted belief in my dateability really works for me. I have had two very short gay relationships that both ended making me feel worse about myself and dating in the long run. I hate clubs and bars, and every social attempt I’ve made to meet more queers has just made me feel like I’m not doing queerness enough/properly. I feel like I’m running out of ideas and am starting to feel the jealousy and difference from all my loved up/sexed up friends. How can I stop myself becoming a bitter single hag with dreams of queer love that are too painful to pursue?
I think the best thing you can do for your dating life right now is to actually take a break from dating.
I don’t buy into the idea that you can only find someone when you’re not looking for them. But I do buy into the idea that our bodies and minds are often trying to tell us things and it’s hard to listen. It really does sound to me like dating has put you in a bad place mentally. Dating is hard, and it’s fine for it to feel hard! But it shouldn’t lead to this much mental unrest. If every time you jump into dating it leads to rocky mental health, then I think taking a very intentional and productive break might be what’s best for you right now.
Now, you may be wondering how that differs from other breaks you’ve taken from dating as you imply in your letter that you intermittently put yourself out there, hit that bad mental place, and then stop before putting yourself back out there again. But I think deciding to take a break before getting to that point of rocky mental health that forces you to take a break will make a difference. And the words “intentional” and “productive” are important here, too. The break should feel like it’s on your terms and it should also be a time where you actively work through the feelings that make dating hard.
You are not undateable. I promise. But feeling jealous of friends and also like you’re not “doing queerness” properly are deep-rooted insecurities that are likely holding you back from living your best dating life. I sense an internalized fear that you’re not “queer enough,” and let’s just toss that out the window, okay! You’re queer enough, and there isn’t a “right” way to be queer. If queer bars and clubs are uncomfortable for you, then don’t force yourself to go to them. There are other places and ways to meet queer people, I promise. But also, that’s not what we’re doing right now. We’re focusing on you and on addressing these underlying insecurities.
I feel like it’s common for people to talk about the societal pressure placed on straight women to find a lifelong partner, get married, etc all before the age of 30, but I think there’s often just as much pressure on queer women — plus some additional pressure that feels unique to our community. I don’t know everything about your life, but I do know it can be hard to be queer. Having a partner can feel like a lifeline for queer folks who have complicated relationships with their families or otherwise face social hardships in life. Queer love seems like the obvious antidote to queer suffering. On top of that, I know a lot of people feel like their queerness is somehow inferior or needs to be “proven” to others when they don’t have a partner. But I think all these pressures are bullshit! 1. You can find queer love outside of a romantic relationship and 2. Your queerness is valid and complete whether you’re single, dating, in a long-term relationship, married, etc.
But I also hear you. You want a relationship. Or at least you want to meet someone you have a connection with and also have some sort of sex life. You’re not asking me to present an alternative to any of that. And I promise I’m not! I’m just asking if you’re actually getting anything out of forcing yourself to date right now. I’m just asking if you might have a better shot at dating in the future if you focus intently on yourself and on unlearning the roots of your insecurities and fears. And I’m also telling you firmly that late twenties is not too old. As queer people, we can sometimes feel like we’re somehow “behind” our queer peers, but that feeling is definitely rooted in broader societal pressures and expectations.
It makes a lot of sense to me that you’re especially feeling this way after damage done by two relationships that didn’t pan out. It might help to do some reflective journaling on those relationships. But then feel free to relegate them to the past. Those two relationships do not define you, and they do not doom your future dating prospects. Even though you say they were short, it’s possible you haven’t taken enough time to heal from them.
You won’t become a bitter single hag. I’m bolding these affirmations in the hopes you’re able to really ingest them. Vanessa’s self-work homework assignment to assume everyone thinks you’re hot and desirable remains forever useful. Start small with your self-work: Make a list of the best things about yourself. Start with five things. Then do ten. Then do 15. It will feel hard, and it will feel awkward. But the things you love about yourself are the things someone else can love, too.
I hope you have friends who let you complain to them. I hope you don’t feel like a burden when you do. Dating is hard, and I feel like it’s important to talk about it being hard. You’re allowed to complain about it, to commiserate. Because that’s the other thing: You’re not alone in this feeling. You’re not the only person who thinks this is hard, who gets stressed or sad during the process of going on dates and trying to meet people. After you’ve taken some time to really focus on yourself, I encourage you to think of any of the parts of dating you do like. How can you approach dating in a way that feels the most comfortable to you? I have a friend who hated apps, hated going out due to her super busy work schedule, but still wanted to meet someone and deeply connect. She ended up using a matchmaking service, which costs money and therefore isn’t an option for everyone, but I’m just sharing because she basically had to slow down, step back, and think outside the box about how to make dating work for her. I think there could be other options out there for you, too. But first I think you need to step away from dating before you can figure out how to crush it.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
Hi!
I’ve been a relationship with my girlfriend for 2.5 years. We met 3 years ago during while I was living in Germany (though a train ride away, which was basically long distance for months at a time due to restrictions), but then I moved back to my home country to finish my studies. After 2 years we decided long distance was too much and I have moved back to Germany to do more study so we can be together.
She’s wonderful and has been really attentive to helping me settle in. However, now the dust has settled I feel like she barely has time to see me and is often too tired from all her commitments to do anything other than chill when we do see each other.
We don’t live together and our schedules are quite mismashed. I have a lot of independent study time and she has lots of meetings and classes plus a job. I’ve always loved that she is an ambitious person but now I am (maybe hypocritically) feeling that she does not really want to prioritise our relationship or adjust anything that she was doing when we lived in different countries to make time.
I know part of the issue is that I am adjusting to a new country and language and that I will feel better once I’ve made friends. However this all takes time and is difficult in a culture that is more reserved than I’m used to and where I’m not a native speaker.
What should I do? I don’t want to stop her living her life or make my loneliness her problem, but I hate having to schedule two hour time slots to see her in the weekday and having to rush when we have evenings together. She’s been really emotionally supportive and has taken on a lot of admin and stress about me moving here and being happy (much more than I realised before I arrived) and I know she cares about our relationship, but she’s also just never free!
I think this is absolutely a conversation you can have with your girlfriend. You’ve been together 2.5 years, and I think it’s reasonable that you want to spend more time together. If you mutually decided long distance was too hard (which is what it sounds like), then I think you can also mutually work toward an arrangement that suits both of your needs.
This doesn’t have to look like you asking her to stop living her life. But I do think that when a long distance partner moves to be closer to another partner — especially given that that’s what both people wanted — then sometimes the partner who did not have to move does have to be open a bit to change and to figuring out how to make space for that person. You shouldn’t be the only person adapting right now. You’ve made a major life change by moving, and while I’m not saying your girlfriend needs to completely change her life or give up parts of herself on your behalf, there does need to be a sense of compromise and an acknowledgement that this is a major transition for both of you. It’s great that she’s providing a lot of emotional support and is generally helping you with your adjustment period. But if you have additional needs like wanting to spend more time together, I think it’s fair to ask for that. In many ways, it makes it easier that it’s such a specific ask.
I don’t think needing to schedule specific time together is in and of itself a problem, but it sounds like it might not be working the way y’all are doing it right now. Does she cancel or cut short those scheduled times? If so, it’s worth emphasizing that you only want to commit to scheduled time if you know it’s going to be honored in full (barring any genuinely unpredictable situations, of course, there should always be a bit of leeway because life is chaotic, especially for someone who’s balancing classes and a job). Is the time you spend together intentional and intimate? If you need to ask for things like her not being on her phone or other stipulations that might make her feel more fully present, those are also worth bringing up.
In a lot of ways, I can relate to your girlfriend. I’m often exhausted by my various commitments in life, and it can make it hard to have fun with my fiancee. Instituting regular date nights helps, especially when we can share the responsibility of planning said date nights or take turns. Something that is true for me that I’m sure is true of your girlfriend — especially, again, if she also wanted you to move closer — is that I genuinely want to spend as much time as possible with my partner. Being busy isn’t being avoidant for me. I just sometimes go down the rabbit hole of my own work. It’s a balance I struggle with sometimes, and I think one thing I’ve really realized helps is maintaining an openness to shifting and adapting as needed. There are times when it’s easier to set weekly date nights, and there are times when it’s harder, so during those times when I can’t make weekly date nights happen, what else can we do to spend meaningful time together? Breakfasts together? Walks? Something else?
It’s great that you’re supportive, but I don’t think you have to see your own needs and your desire for more time with her as working against her ambitions. There are always ways to compromise, always ways to try new things. You’ve had to make a lot of adjustments to your life (a new country and a new language are HUGE), so I think it’s okay to ask her to make some, too, especially if it’s all in service of overall relationship health. It might take a while to figure out exactly how to make it all work, but so long as you’re both working toward the goal of more quality time together, you’ll get there.
It is not hypocritical to ask her to prioritize the relationship and also do things differently than when you were long distance. Even though you’re not living together, moving to be closer to her represents a new phase of the relationship, and both parties should be feeling that. Long distance is hard, but there are also some benefits to long distance in the sense that it’s “easier” to be super present and attentive when you’re together because those moments are so rare. I’m not saying she’s taking you for granted, but I do think it could be beneficial for you both if you initiate a conversation about what you want from this relationship and why you moved closer. The person who moved shouldn’t be the only person experiencing change. I hope you both can be open to talking about this and figuring out solutions that feel good for both of you.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
Hello! I’m relatively young and for years I’ve imagined myself as bisexual because that was what seemed to fit me at the time. I’ve used the label among friends and LGBT peers for a long time, and I’ve always stressed it in conversations regarding sexuality and dating. However, recently I feel as though I wouldn’t actually be able to have a relationship, romantically or sexually, with a man in any capacity. I want to dip my toes into trying the lesbian label, but I am aware of the stigma surrounding bisexuality, especially of the idea that it’s a “phase” to “grow out of,” and I fear that if I were to proceed I would only support this harmful notion. I understand that human beings are not stereotypes in and of themselves and that individual experiences aren’t the be-all and end-all for an entire group, but for some reason for me specifically I can’t seem to shake the idea that I’m doing something bad by doing this. How can I figure out what the right path is? Is there a right path? Why can’t I treat myself with the same grace I give others when they’re also trying to figure themselves out?
There are many people who will try to be strict about the definition of “bisexual” and “lesbian.” At times, I have been that person. I have also been a person who identifies as both at different points in my life. I know you’re not asking about me and my journey, but I think that’s important context to start with while we’re getting to know each other.
I think the real reason I’m telling you this is to get at the final question you’ve asked, which I think is the crux of the issue: Why can’t you grant yourself the grace that, I assume, when reading the sentences above, you gave me? I think it’s hard to shake ourselves out of our own heads long enough to stop beating ourselves up about any multitude of things, but one way I’ve found works for me is to quite literally look at the things I’m beating myself up about as if a friend had brought them to me and asked my opinion. If I had a friend who had previously identified one way and, when given more time and space to understand themselves and their desires, realized that label may no longer fit, how would I react? Probably, mostly, with joy they were one step closer to feeling comfortable with themselves now.
Because really, I think that’s all we can be: comfortable with ourselves now. I don’t really want to spend too much time on whether you are “doing something bad” by getting closer to feeling comfortable with yourself, though I deeply understand.
Bisexuality is stigmatized, misunderstood, and often maligned, and I also will staunchly defend it, stress it in conversation, etc. But there were also times where I doubted whether it was the right label for me, where I decided it was not, and then where I returned to it again.
Do people think I am a phony or furthering stereotypes, or or or? Maybe! But people also think I am straight sometimes (I’m not), people also think I am white sometimes (I’m not), people also think I like mushrooms sometimes (I do not!). Another stereotype about bisexuality is that it’s actually just straight girls looking to ~fit in~ or attract the attention of men: Should that stop anyone who has previously identified as straight from coming out as bisexual once she knows that she is bi? What else are we supposed to do but try to wear what clothing fits us best every day.
People identify all sorts of ways for all different reasons, dating back as far as language has existed, probably. At the end of the day, our labels are a shorthand. You could start calling yourself a lesbian immediately, or start telling your friends you are moving away from dating men, or start using words more like “sapphic” or “queer” or just “gay,” or even continue to use the word bisexual without ever dating another man (that’s allowed! There are no rules that say who you have to date to be bisexual!). All of these, potentially, could encapsulate the way you see your sexuality playing out in the world, and only you can choose what feels good to you. Your life is yours, not a poster for bisexuality or lesbianism or any other label that feels like it might fit.
Now, if you started claiming bisexuality isn’t real, a different conversation might need to be had. Barring that, I say the right path is whichever one you choose, whether it’s dipping your toe, diving in head first, or any number of ways to behave at a pool, all of which, most importantly are supposed to be fun.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
Hi, so I’m a 24 yr old white/cis lesbian who got out of my parents fundamentalist cult when I was 18. I’ve spent a lot of time working on myself to feel comfortable being around people, and I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been. Most people would describe me as sweet, cheerful, and very sincere. However, there’s this desperate loneliness in that I don’t know how to really date?
When I’m attracted to someone irl, I can think they’re cute and funny, but if I get a chance to know them better and have the possibility of being friends, all attraction shuts down like I’m putting up a defensive wall. On dating apps, I’ve had a few dates and one ‘talking’ phase with someone for three months (I thought she was going to kiss me, and then she told me she thought we were better as friends).
Honestly, at this point it’s like I love the idea of romance, but being unwanted makes me flinch. I’m not particularly the prettiest or skinniest girl either, and I try to be confident instead of worrying over my flaws, but I genuinely feel like there’s a gap between me and other gay girls I don’t know how to bridge. I feel like I’m running out of time somehow.
First of all, I want to commend you on the work you’re already doing on yourself to feel comfortable around others. It’s huge that you say you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. You’re clearly working toward growth, healing, and self-acceptance in a really meaningful way.
That said, the thing about doing work on ourselves is that there’s pretty much always more work to be done. This is especially true when growing up in traumatic religious environments like the one you’ve described. You’re unlearning so much, and it doesn’t happen overnight. I know you know that, but I think it’s worth saying, because I think sometimes when we make a lot of progress in our self work then it can be really easy to be extra hard on ourselves. It’s easy to think: I’m good now, so my anxiety about dating shouldn’t be so big. But just because we’ve made progress in some ways doesn’t mean everything is suddenly easy. Dating requires so much vulnerability, and a fear of rejection can be such a roadblock. So, what can we do to confront that roadblock?
It does sound like you might be struggling with some internalized fatphobia and negative self-talk, especially at the end of your letter. You are not flawed. Assume everyone thinks you’re hot (that piece has so much great, actionable advice for working on self-esteem and self-image). Working through these negative perceptions of yourself and deeply internalized ideas of beauty standards isn’t just a matter of trying to be confident. It requires a lot of introspection and active work. Therapy can definitely help here. But also just trying to identify the root causes for why you feel some of these things, which you can do by journaling. There are indeed a lot of outside, systemic forces that can make us feel like we aren’t pretty enough to be loved, and as individuals we don’t have the power to destroy those systems entirely. But we can shift the ways we look at ourselves and refuse these negative narratives. We can tell ourselves we deserve love, because we do. And anyone who would reject us for how we look isn’t someone who deserves our time, energy, or love. Yes, our society puts thinness on a pedestal, but being skinny is not requited to be loved.
I’m also curious if journaling about your fears and that defensive wall you feel yourself putting up could also lead to some revelations about how your time in the cult shapes some of these views. Were there specific beliefs imposed on you that are manifesting now in your fears about dating and getting closer with people? How do you feel about intimacy in general and what things do you still have to unlearn and investigate that could be rooted in your past?
Dating apps can be a really brutal space when it comes to insecurities and internalized beauty standards, because so many of them really do hinge initially on looks and superficial details. Rejection sometimes feels even worse on these apps because it can feel constant. I would actually maybe recommend stepping away from apps for now while you do some work on yourself so you can get to a place where it’s easier to sit with those rejections. I know you’re worried about running out of time or being behind fellow gay girls, but I assure you there isn’t a simple timeline when it comes to these things. In fact, it is better to slow down than to rush.
I don’t think you need to get to a place where you’re totally okay with the idea of rejection — tbh, a lot of folks never get to that place! rejection sucks for everyone! — before you jump back into dating apps, but I do think from the sounds of your letter that it might do you good to pause, to connect more with yourself, and to figure out what it is you want. Again, journaling can be so helpful here. What is it about the idea of romance that appeals to you specifically? What kind of relationship are you looking for? What do you hope to get out of dating? Finally, what are your specific fears around dating? And what are the true roots of those fears? Instead of holding what you call flaws against yourself, identify where the sentiment that these are flaws in the first place comes from.
It’s also possible you need to do some work toward figuring out how you feel about attraction in general. What is it that shifts once you start getting to know someone better? Even if you don’t identify on the aro/ace spectrum, I think there are a lot of great ace writers who are doing work that complicates things like attraction, like this recent piece by Ela Przybylo.
Dating is hard, and dating is scary. Six years on the other side of a fundamentalist cult you were raised in isn’t a tremendously long amount of time. It sounds like you’ve made a lot of great progress, but there’s still room for introspection and growth as you unlearn being hard on and critical of yourself. Refuse to accept the narratives that have been impressed upon you and work toward a sense of self that is constructed by you, not by others. Also, remember that dating does not have to lead to a relationship to still have positive meaning in your life. You can learn so much from dating others — about yourself and about what you want — even if the conclusion is just friendship or going your separate ways. If your fear of being unwanted is making it difficult to connect with people, investigate that fear. You might not be able to banish it entirely, but you can come up with ways to battle it, especially if you start giving yourself a little more compassion and grace.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
feature image photo by Maskot via Getty Images
I’ve had short relationships here and there with girls but when I met this one we fit almost perfectly it seemed. She was unique and liked her own things different from me, but we also shared interests and had great sexual compatibility — and she was the first and only person I’ve slept with. Even then, we only slept together twice because of circumstances before she called things off. It felt like a sudden uprooting and I felt like a new door was just opened up and then slammed as soon as it opened.
I should’ve known better because she had just gotten out of a bad relationship with a biphobic and mentally abusive ex (she’s bi herself) and she said she wasn’t sure she wanted anything — especially since she’d be going to another state for six months. Despite all of that I got feelings for her and it seemed like she returned those feelings — talked about me visiting her, things we should buy for sex, everything. Then one day I think she got overwhelmed because I sent too many memes on Instagram — I scroll through it to pass the dead time at work and send things that remind me of my friends to them.
We lasted as “friends” for a little less than a month — her level of communication greatly decreased while mine stayed the same. Eventually she stopped responding all together and when I asked if we were good she said to send less stuff, so I did. But I didn’t realize she meant send nothing at all. Eventually I asked if anything changed and she said I wasn’t matching her energy at all, but I had kept the same energy we always had. I asked her a week or two later if I could fix things so we could still be friends and she saw my message and never responded, then removed me as a follower and unfriended me on everything. I was at a bar partying with some friends when I noticed and I followed her again because my drunk self thought maybe I accidentally unfollowed her, and the next morning she blocked me.
It’s been 4 months now, but I still feel the same as I did day one. A month ago she blocked me on Spotify (I still listened to our mixed playlist, but I don’t know how she’d know I did), and then last week she friended me on tiktok (I already followed her long ago, she followed me back last week) and then blocked me. It feels like she hates me, and hates me as much as the first day she blocked me since she keeps dragging it on. I’ve not tried to reach out, but I constantly think about how when she’s back to our state I want to reach out and text her asking what’s up, I guess in some vain hope that the time and distance may have given time for things to settle down. I think these feelings are made all the more worse because she was the first person I’ve slept with, and it feels like a harsh case of right place, wrong time.
Would it be wrong to reach out? If/when that happens, or even if I don’t do that, how do I get over her? It felt like we fit perfectly like puzzle pieces until I suffocated her.
I’ll start by saying I don’t think you should reach out. I just really don’t think it’ll give you what you want, and I think the only way to truly get over this person is to create a lot of space and distance — space and distance she seemingly wants as well.
I have a lot of empathy for you in this situation but also for her. I don’t think she’s been super direct in her communication, and some of her actions have technically been confusing or contradictory, like blocking you on some platforms only to then follow you on TikTok…and then block you again. But I think you have to accept that blocking you on a platform in the first place is a pretty direct sign she doesn’t want to speak with you. It doesn’t necessarily mean you did something wrong or she has super negative feelings about the relationship you had. I think sometimes people just cope with their emotions by taking extreme actions. Now, she probably was frustrated by you following her back after she soft-blocked you, but I also understand why one might do that accidentally. Being soft-blocked is not a super direct form of communication and can be more ambiguous than a full block. But I’ve been soft-blocked by folks before, and sure, it can hurt. But I ultimately have to just accept it as a boundary someone is setting.
Her telling you you weren’t matching her energy is similarly a somewhat indirect way of communicating. She asked you to send less things, when really what she meant was send nothing. She should have been clear about that, but I also think it’s possible she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted or didn’t want to hurt you. Ironically though, it’s more hurtful to not be direct and then to lash out at the other person for not honoring a boundary you didn’t really know was set in the first place. While I wish she’d been a bit more direct, I do think that her decrease in communication was the first signal to maybe pull back a little. I do think sometimes with early relationships, in casual dating situations, or even in friendships it can be important to pay attention to communication cues, especially because we all are at different places of how well we communicate our needs/wants.
I think she wants time and space, and while I don’t think her ways of communicating that have been perfect, I do think they’ve ultimately been clear. You don’t block someone who you want to continue a friendship with. If I’m being honest, I doubt sending her too many memes was the original turning point for her when it came to your relationship and dynamic. It sounds like something else may have been going on there, which is especially hard for you to know given the combination of 1. not a ton of direct communication and 2. long distance.
Whatever her reasons are for not wanting to pursue a relationship with you, I think she has shown repeatedly now that she doesn’t want to talk. Unfortunately, closure can be elusive in situations like this. Do I think she owes a bit of communication to you, especially since you were friends before? I do. But I at the same time think it’s acceptable for her to set boundaries with you if she isn’t ready to talk or if she’s dealing with complicated emotions she’s still working through. I think it’s complicated and nuanced. And I really just think you have to let her come to you next instead of trying to talk to her. Which means you also have to accept that she might never reach out. You can also feel free to set your own boundaries though! If her following you after blocking you makes you feel weird/bad, you can ask her not to. You get to have a say if she tries to come back into your life and it gets confusing or feels fraught. It never feels good when it feels like someone is merely keeping us on the backburner.
For now, I think you need to focus on yourself and not on her. She might not give your closure, but you can seek closure on your own. Send the memes you would have sent to her to your friends. Try to minimize speculation about why she’s making her choices and focus on your own choices. Sometimes, the fit can feel perfect but it isn’t, especially when a relationship is cut short at the beginning, when New Relationship Energy is at its strongest. I don’t think you need to blame yourself for “suffocating her.” Again, I doubt that’s the main reason she started pulling away in the first place. Blaming yourself for the dissolution of the relationship isn’t going to get you anywhere. But neither will repeated attempts at contacting her, which at a certain point becomes you ignoring her boundaries. I know this relationship didn’t last very long, but I think you should take the time to grieve it like a proper breakup. Focusing your energy on moving on and healing rather than trying to reconnect is the best path forward — and not just for you, but for her, too.
I think you can hold and honor the incredible experience you had with her and how meaningful it was for you to sleep with her without needing to continue to pursue communication. What’s happening now doesn’t have to take away from how special that was for you. Hold onto your truth and remember the good parts instead of focusing so much on the aftermath. Just because it ended doesn’t mean it wasn’t a meaningful thing, one you can carry with you into the future as you work toward moving forward instead of only looking back in frustration and confusion.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
My wife and I have been together for almost 10 years. When we first started dating, I had very little romantic/sexual experience, all of it almost entirely with other women. My wife came into our relationship with a ton of experience, but all of it with men. At first our sexual intimacy seemed normal — not the most frequent, but we were both enthusiastic and putting in effort and enjoying ourselves, even if we were both shy and anxious. Since then, things have deteriorated. I want to make it clear: I love my wife. I have never loved anyone in the way I love my wife and I don’t think I ever will again. I’m demisexual, meaning it’s hard for me to find someone I’m attracted to in the first place, and before I met my wife I never knew I was capable of feeling this depth of love for someone. My wife also loves me in the same surprising way. I love her so much and I love the life we’ve built together. But we basically don’t have sex anymore. I feel like I should have known something was off early into our relationship when I would want to have sex or make out like once or twice a week and she wouldn’t and just the act of me asking or trying to initiate reset some sort of counter in her head. Like talking about having sex was the same as having sex, so if I brought it up a few days later it’d be like “no, we already did that this week.” And she’d feel so pressured and like I was asking for too much. I was really inexperienced and shy and anxious and I thought that I was the problem, that I was some huge hulking horny sex monster. That me wanting more was too much, that I was too much. It got to the point where she didn’t even want to make out with me because she was worried I would want sex.
I‘ve been fat my whole life and have dealt with a lot of rejection, both romantic and otherwise, because of it. I don’t have a wealth of romantic or sexual experience outside my marriage. I’m also autistic and find it very hard to know what “normal” is — not that that should matter, since every relationship is unique, but when I was younger this was a big source of my feeling othered and rejected. Despite doing my best to work through this, I’ve spent most of my marriage still feeling this rejection. My wife has made it clear that she DOES want me and she DOES find me hot/beautiful/attractive… but the follow through just isn’t there. There’s always so many perfectly reasonable explanations: she has chronic pain, she can’t breathe easily through her nose which makes things difficult, she used to get frequent migraines, she has sexual trauma from a past relationship, she has ADHD and has trouble staying in the moment.
After the first couple years, most of the sex we did have ended up being me eating her out and then having to masturbate on my own. I found out through lots of conversation and trying to work through this that she largely dissociates through sex and the reason she was able to have a slut era before we met was because she would just lie back and take it and think about other things, but with me she wants to try and be active and she just… can’t. Which means we mostly don’t have sex. And when we do, it’s still mostly just me being active. I enjoy being the more active partner — to an extent — but when it’s all we do, I feel like it’s because I don’t deserve to be on the receiving end. That sex with me is only worth it if she doesn’t have to do anything. I know that’s not the truth and a lot of that feeling comes from how much difficulty I have orgasming (because I feel like if I could cum, then she would find more satisfaction from being active because she would find fulfillment in getting me off). I have a lot of empathy for my wife and I try my best to be understanding, but it hurts so much. We have a very open and communicative relationship. We talk through our problems and we work together and usually that works, but every conversation about sex seems to put more pressure on my wife and make her shut down even more.
We’ve tried opening up our marriage and that was its own special disaster. I don’t know if I just didn’t like our third or if I can’t feel that way for anyone other than my wife. He was more interested in me than in my wife, but I stepped out relatively early to let them be together (even tho that hurt SO much and was so hard to work through) because I wasn’t comfortable being in that kind of relationship with someone other than my wife. I’ve thought about trying it with a different person, but I just can’t see myself wanting anyone other than my wife and at this point, my wife also doesn’t want anyone else.
We’ve tried a sex calendar. It started as a day of the week. Then every other week. Then once a month. Then… never. There were always perfectly valid reasons why it couldn’t happen. Life or health or work got in the way. I manage our schedules and calendar (my wife has ADHD time blindness) so I would always be the one reminding her that it was the day we were supposed to have sex, and then when it didn’t happen (however valid the reason) I would feel double rejected. Rejected first because we weren’t sleeping together, rejected second because we had specifically agreed to this thing to try to improve our sex life and she couldn’t even stick to that. It was so much more crushing than I could have expected, to the point that I ended this arrangement because I couldn’t handle it anymore.
I’ve brought up couples therapy, brought up sex therapy, and she’s not against it but she’s never followed through and I think neither of us even know where to start looking. I don’t think a straight or neurotypical therapist would Get it. I’ve practically begged her to at least bring it up during her normal therapy and she won’t because she’s too anxious. I tried to bring it up with my therapist but her reaction was so incredulous I just shut down and eventually ended that relationship because I lost trust in her ability to help me. Our sex life has gotten bad to the point where we only had sex twice in all of last year and I couldn’t enjoy either time. I’ve become so anxious about sex that I feel totally numb to everything but my own anxiety. I’m so desperate to try to make the experience enjoyable for her that I can’t enjoy any of it. I can’t even enjoy making out anymore, which used to be one of my favorite parts of intimacy.
And despite this I still WANT sex. I’ve spent so long trying to love myself and my body and this makes me hate it because I feel like maybe if I was better, if I was more attractive and appealing, if I was more sensitive and could cum more easily, then maybe she’d want me. At this point, I’ve told her that I cannot handle rejection anymore and that if she wants to sleep with me, she needs to ask for or initiate it. And I just don’t think she ever will. I think in the almost 10 years we’ve been together that she’s initiated sex… maybe twice? I don’t know what to do. I feel like our sex life is totally broken, but at the same time I can’t seem to give up that last kernel of hope. I think the icing on top is that despite all this, my wife does not consider herself to be asexual.
And here I am, actually ace, and I’m despondent over a lack of sex in our relationship. I feel ridiculous and pathetic. I hate feeling like this and I think the worst part is how much I resent her. I don’t want to resent the person I love, but I feel like our sex life is irreparably broken. I feel like I’M broken. I don’t know what to do.
Dear friend, you wrote in a while ago with this, so I hope it finds you well and perhaps no longer in this relationship. That’s correct. I do think you two should break up. I’m certainly not in your relationship, but there are a number of things I can see from your very detailed message that raised some red flags or concerns for me.
First, from your perspective, you say: “I’m demisexual, meaning it’s hard for me to find someone I’m attracted to in the first place, and before I met my wife I never knew I was capable of feeling this depth of love for someone.”
The ‘sunk cost fallacy’ seems relevant here. In your statement, I’m seeing that you feel like you’ve invested so heavily in this relationship, that you are better off sticking it out, even though it’s not working. The thing is, it’s better to be alone alone than alone in a relationship. It is. Trust me. You will feel so much better about yourself, so much less anxious, so much more able to focus on other things besides romantic love that can make you happy. So, even if you might never find romantic love again or feel it at this depth again, what I’m hearing about the relationship has made me concerned about your well-being within it and I do think that you’re better off taking that risk and going it alone.
You say: “I feel like I should have known something was off early into our relationship when I would want to have sex or make out like once or twice a week and she wouldn’t and just the act of me asking or trying to initiate reset some sort of counter in her head.”
You are absolutely right that this dynamic was an early warning sign. Look, people have different relationships to sex and their sexuality and all that can be negotiated and talked about within a relationship. But in this part of your letter, notice that you are reporting to me that you are not talking about this dynamic, and in fact, even talking about sex is now taboo within your relationship. This is unfair to you, and frankly what you’re describing here is verging on the edge of gaslighting. I do not like this for you. Your partner should be attempting to stay grounded in the same reality as you, but instead, here, she’s making a new reality. She’s saying that talking about making out or your asking to make out is the same thing as making out. That’s not true! That’s not reality! She is keeping tabs and has a “counter” in her head, which surely makes you feel watched, monitored, surveilled, less empowered in the relationship than her. That’s an unfair power dynamic! Your partner also has found a way to make you feel that you expressing your needs to her makes you into a “hulking sex monster.” I’m sorry, but sex is a part of life, and if you are a person who enjoys sex and desires sex and sexual contact within a relationship, it does not make you a monster. My intuition is telling me that there might be aspects to the ways that she’s reacting to you that leave you feeling this way. She is not having productive conversations with you. Instead, she is allowing you to or contributing to you feeling shame for feelings that are perfectly natural, normal and valid.
Similarly, not wanting to make out with you because she is worried about you wanting sex is messed up on a number of levels. 1) This indicates to you that your wanting sex is “wrong” within the context of your relationship. It isn’t wrong to want sex. It might make her feel uncomfortable, but again, that’s a conversation you need to have and that she needs to be open to having. 2) This would make me feel like the other person thought I had no self control or ability to regulate my emotions, that they think if I make out with them and then want sex and they don’t, that I’m going to react poorly or immaturely. Thus, we’re returning to a world where she is contributing to your internalizing shame about yourself that honestly doesn’t sound based in who you actually are as a person.
You write that your wife has talked about dissociating during sex, but has there ever been a conversation about or effort — on either of your parts — to understand or unpack that further? Identifying dissociation as an experience is just one step. Has there been any movement toward figuring out where it stems from or additional communication between you two about how to grapple with it? Real open communication would work toward that.
“I’ve been fat my whole life and have dealt with a lot of rejection, both romantic and otherwise, because of it. I don’t have a wealth of romantic or sexual experience outside my marriage. I’m also autistic and find it very hard to know what “normal” is — not that that should matter, since every relationship is unique, but when I was younger this was a big source of my feeling othered and rejected.”
I am concerned for you. You mention a history of rejection, which your partner does not appear to be sensitive to with her actions and words. To heal from that, wouldn’t it feel good to have someone who didn’t reject you so frequently? You also mention that you’re autistic. I’m also autistic! And I can tell you it does leave us more vulnerable to manipulation within romantic partnerships and also that, again, I do not like the way that your partner seems to be so unwilling to meet you halfway in terms of making sure the relationship dynamic is one that feels comfortable and supportive to you, as opposed to one where you feel like you’re constantly haunted by feelings of rejection. Notice that I am not saying she is obligated to have sex! No one is. But the way this is playing out on an emotional and communication level is a concern.
“We talk through our problems and we work together and usually that works, but every conversation about sex seems to put more pressure on my wife and make her shut down even more. We’ve tried opening up our marriage and that was its own special disaster.”
I’ve already said I don’t like the way these conversations are going. It sounds like your wife has something going on when it comes to sex that she is having difficulty resolving. I also can understand why opening up the relationship in any way (although I would not necessarily have gone head-first into a threesome) is difficult for you as a demisexual. Again, I feel like the way this threesome went, though, is indicative of something more insidious. You are telling us that your feelings were hurt “SO much” when you stepped away to let your wife have sex with the other person. Honestly, in a situation like this, things should stop if one person feels as uncomfortable as you’ve described yourself being. If I was having a threesome and a partner got upset, it’s not time to keep going while they leave the room! It’s time to check in! Maybe it’s time to stop things altogether, put some comfy clothes on, get everyone some tea, and talk things out. You are telling me one thing, which is that your wife and you communicate well and she cares for you, and then I am seeing something different, which is that your needs are continuously deprioritized in the relationship, and that seems to be how things play out when it comes to your wife’s actions.
“We’ve tried a sex calendar … I’ve brought up couples therapy, brought up sex therapy, and she’s not against it but she’s never followed through and I think neither of us even know where to start looking.”
Everything you’ve described in this part of the letter is so helpful, because this shows me your wife is not willing to put in any kind of effort or move into a space of discomfort in any way for you. All the while, you are the one who is perpetually in a space of discomfort. She won’t bring sex up with her therapist because it gives her anxiety? What about the anxiety you feel All The Time? Why won’t she push herself outside of her comfort zone for less than an hour, in what is presumably a safe space, and talk about something that would massively improve things for you (AND for her) if she could find a way to work through her feelings on the subject? Also, I am sorry, but there is time blindness and there are issues with scheduling, and then there are excuses and not caring. She’s had enough time and enough chances that if she cared about doing something like finding time for sex, initiating sex, seeking out a sex therapist, figuring out her relationship to sex and how she can show up for you in the relationship — she would. If she cared, she would be trying to find a solution with you. Instead, it’s all on you and you’re left holding the bag, wondering what’s wrong with you.
This is about sex, yes, because sex is a thing many people — including some ace people — need and a thing many people look for in relationships, but this is also about how you are being cared for, how you are being treated and what you’re going through. I don’t see this dynamic improving. You have exhausted so many different paths for remedying this problem. You have given your wife so many chances, and she has squandered them. There is trauma, there is neurodivergence, there are hangups we all have — but none of these things are excuses for treating a partner poorly or perpetuating a dynamic in a relationship that tanks one person’s self esteem and fosters the kind of anxiety you’re describing here. It’s going to be so hard. It’s been ten years. Divorce really fucking sucks and is scary, but I sincerely think you should move on. You are worthy of love and intimacy and, I am so sorry to say this, but this treatment does not sound like love to me. You might love her, but she is not showing you the kind of care in return that would indicate actual love. Her words are not meeting her actions. It’s time to break up.
I am sending you so many good thoughts as you go through this. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t offer you easier news or a happier solution. Still, I know that you’re strong, that you can do this, that you’ve got this.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
feature image photo by Manuel Arias Duran via Getty Images
I’ve recently started dating someone and it has been lovely. They are super chill and really caring at the same time, great at communication (at least way better than me), and the physical intimacy has been pretty awesome (which is rare because I’m gray asexual and it’s alway tricky for me). We have had great conversations without rushing into things. It’s fun. Basically, it’s the loveliest start I’ve ever had to a relationship and yet I feel like I’m going crazy.
My previous relationship was completely messy. He kept blowing hot and cold, could be super intense and a week later seem completely indifferent. He cheated on me in front of my eyes with a cis person when I had just talked about struggling with my transition and heaving feelings of inadequacy (we are both trans). He was not honest about what was happening, and it started a heavy circle of anxiety and depression for me. In summary, it was very toxic and traumatic.
We have repaired some stuff over the years after breaking up, and I felt like I had overcome the biggest part of it and was ready to start something new. But the last few weeks, I have been feeling so insecure and needy, so distrustful of this genuinely great new partner, that I’m wondering if this is worth it, if I can handle it. I overthink every text, feel abandoned when they don’t reach out for a couple days. I’m also worried that if i tell them what’s going through my mind they will run for the hills because it is not for them to deal with the consequences of my ex’s behavior. I don’t feel like I have much to offer except my insecurities (I’m also really struggling with dysphoria at the moment).
Am I really ready? Should I be honest with myself and take more time to heal, even though I want to experience this relationship?
At the end of every episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race, RuPaul famously asks, “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you going to love somebody else? Can I get an amen?” “Amen!” the rest of the cast shouts.
Sorry to disagree with drag icon RuPaul Charles, but I think that’s bullshit.
I’m not someone who jumps from relationship to relationship. I like having time between partners to be alone and work on myself. But over the years I’ve learned a hard truth: Sometimes there’s a limit to what we can do on our own.
It makes sense, right? If you get into a car accident and develop a fear of driving, the options are never drive again or get back in a car. Sure, you can work your way up to conquering the fear. Maybe you start by driving on side streets or in a parking lot. But if getting on the highway is something you want out of life, your only option is to get back on the highway.
When I first started flirting with my now partner, it had been about a year and a half since my last relationship. I still didn’t feel ready for something serious and circumstances made it so serious wasn’t an option. We lived in different countries and it was peak pandemic. This lowered the stakes and lowered some of my emotional walls. Before I knew it a year had passed and I was driving nine hours across the border to meet her. I still had anxieties from my last relationship, but I’d let myself fall hard enough that I pushed through them.
She and I had spent the previous years growing a lot on our own. Now we were ready to grow together. This is where it gets really scary: Growing together requires communication.
I understand the impulse to not want to scare away your new partner with your anxieties. That is the exact kind of vulnerability I struggle with too. I’d rather keep a feeling to myself especially when I think it’s irrational. What I’ve had to learn is there’s a big difference between pushing your anxieties onto another person and letting them know you’re feeling anxious.
An example. Let’s say, you text the person you’re dating and they don’t text you back right away. I’m not suggesting you let the wounds of your ex bleed into a frantic message like, “I haven’t heard from you and it feels like you don’t like me anymore.” That’s not productive. But, next time you’re with them, you can say that sometimes you feel insecure when they don’t text back right away because of your ex. You can tell them you know it’s not rational but it’s just a feeling you have and you might need a bit more reassurance. Maybe they’ll say they just aren’t great at texting while at work or with friends and then you can figure out new communication expectations that work for both of you.
Conversations like this don’t even have to be A Thing. Trust me. You will not be the first queer person to talk about your ex with a person you’re dating. That’s like queer culture. You can let your new person in on your history and what parts of that history still weigh on you without passing on that weight.
I’m really sorry your ex cheated on you and made you feel inadequate. I know that hurt is even greater since your ex is also trans. We want to feel safe when dating within our own communities and sometimes that’s not the case. It’s hard to get over a hurt like that. But it’s possible. By yourself or with a new, loving partner, it’s possible.
If, ultimately, you decide you just need more time for solo growth before being in a new relationship, that’s okay. I just want to offer the possibility that you could keep growing alongside this new person who you seem to really like and who seems to really like you. I promise, they have more growth to do too.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.
feature image photo by praetorianphoto via Getty Images
My girlfriend and I got together about a month ago, after years of friendship and many months of secretive hooking up (very hot). The sex felt really awesome and explorative and most importantly: safe and intimate. I have only had one actual relationship before, and for her this is her first relationship. We went to university together for the last 4 years, and the “secretive hookups” started right after we graduated this year in April. We decided to be official about a month ago, and had sex a bunch right after that, but after about a week she told me that the idea of sex suddenly felt really unappealing and that she abruptly didn’t want to have sex. She assured me that no boundaries were ever crossed before, just that for the moment she didn’t want to have sex. Maybe for a few days, could be like a week, she couldn’t say.
I honestly am really glad she felt like she could talk to me about this so openly, and we seemed to land in a good spot with me saying that her not wanting to have sex for a bit didn’t change anything or make me feel any less attracted to her. I honestly did feel that way, and I never want her to feel like she isn’t enough if we aren’t having sex.
However, it’s now been about 2.5 weeks, and we haven’t really even been making out or doing other sex-adjacent things, even though we have been spending lots of time together. The hiatus from sex has really revealed to me that I think I find a lot of affirmation about being desired through even just kissing/making out — so not even doing much of that has left me feeling like maybe she doesn’t ever want to have sex, and in some way maybe that’s my fault.
Anyway, would love any input about how to talk to her about this and whether or not I even should? I just want to have sex with my girlfriend, but the last thing I want is for her to have sex with me if she doesn’t fully want to.
This is absolutely something you can — and should — talk to her about.
I agree that it is good that your girlfriend felt comfortable enough to express this shift in her needs/wants to you, but it also doesn’t really sound like she gave much by way of an explanation. There are a lot of reasons people’s sex drives change; I do think you both owe it to each other to talk about it, even if this leads to uncomfortable or uncertain waters. I think it is totally reasonable and appropriate to do a check-in where you ask where she thinks this shift might be coming from. Has anything else shifted for her about the way she sees your relationship? What changed for her?
It’s possible she herself doesn’t know where this shift is coming from, and that’s okay, but when you initiate this conversation, she has the opportunity to say that. The question of why is really important here, even if there isn’t a concrete answer yet. Asking her why she has changed her mind about sex isn’t pressuring her to do something she doesn’t want to do. It doesn’t signal that something is wrong with her. It’s just an opportunity for conversation, and it’s one she should be willing to have if you are in a relationship. She is entitled to her own needs and desires — or lack thereof — but she doesn’t get to overwrite or dictate your experience in this relationship either.
You write that this has all made you feel like she doesn’t ever want to have sex and that it could be in some way your fault, and while I understand that impulse, it doesn’t sound like you’ve done anything to cause this, especially if she has assured you that her boundaries have been respected throughout this.
I don’t want to answer for her as to why this shift has occurred, because again, it could be so many things! But I do wonder if there’s something about the transition from secret hookups to “above board” hookups that has caused some tension or uncertainty for her. Sex within a defined relationship can feel really different than sex in a more clandestine arrangement. You could ask her if she has specific feelings about that and if there’s a way to cultivate a sense of secrecy and exploration that defined your sex together before within your new arrangement. Again, she might not have answers right away, but I think getting that conversation started would be a good step, especially if you’re feeling insecure or undesired. Both of your needs and desires are important here. It’s also possible that this exists entirely outside of your relationship; she could be discovering new aspects of her sexuality, especially if this is her first relationship.
To me, both of these things are true: 1. People’s sex drives can change for any number of reasons, at any time and 2. If sex is important to you, that’s valid, too! It’s all about balance, compromise, open communication, and making sure both of your needs are met. I know your mismatched desires are causing an uncomfortable incompatibility, but I don’t think it helps to pave over your own needs/wants on her behalf. Again, this does not mean you’re pressuring her. Saying sex is a priority for you is not inherently manipulative, especially if you approach the conversation from a place of wanting to really understand where she’s at. You can ask about the sex-adjacent things like making out, too. Is she comfortable with bringing that back into the relationship? What does and does not feel off limits to her right now?
The hardest part of this is having to accept that the conversation could lead to really tough choices and considerations. It’s possible you might have to redefine/restructure your relationship in some way that works for both of you. It’s also possible she really does just need some time. But you’re never going to know without asking open, honest questions or without talking about your own feelings about sex and intimacy in a relationship. Addressing all these things as early in a relationship as possible is really important and will make it easier to have tough conversations down the road. You are allowed to value your desire to have sex while respecting her lack of desire for sex right now — even if it means that your mis-matched needs might not be compatible longterm.
You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.