Believe me, it’s not pretty.
How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Jessica and Rich here. It’s anonymous!
Dear How to Do It,
I am a 43-year-old single woman. I never liked sex when I was younger. At around 31, with the help of a serious boyfriend, I learned that I had been disassociating during it and was so thankful I learned how to stop. We had maybe three months of amazing sex before we broke up. Since then, I have only been able to meet men who are not at all passionate or caring in bed so it’s been almost worse than my 20s. I noticed something weird going on with my vulva last year and decided it looked, well, smaller because I had gained some weight.
Recently, I seriously looked down there to see what was going on because I kept having trouble bringing myself to orgasm. I was horrified that I was unable to find my clitoris, my inner labia was half gone, and there were large bruise-like lesions and white spots both between my inner and outer labia and in the middle, inside of where my inner labia is. I look so mangled. I was diagnosed with lichen sclerosis, which is a condition I’ll have for the rest of my life. I believe I can stop it from progressing further as long as I can get it into remission but that’s no guarantee. Of course, my insurance will not cover removing my clitoris from beneath the hood or fixing my labia as they said it could just happen again and that labia surgery would be “cosmetic.”
I haven’t tried to date in close to a year and I’m scared to do so ever again. This is crushing. How in the world do you broach the subject of a mangled vagina that looks like it is rife with STIs with a prospective partner? It’s not actually contagious. But believe me, it is not pretty. Do I just accept I will never have sex again? How would I even let someone know? I’m scared they might say it’s OK, see what it looks like, and go running. I would if I could.
—Horny But Mangled
Dear Horny But Mangled,
There is absolutely a chance you might have sex again, but that chance comes with a risk of rejection. Before you go putting yourself out there though, consider whether you’re in a place to bear a bad reaction from a potential partner. When you do feel ready, I’d give folks a longer explanation before anyone is even partially nude. Actually, if you’re comfortable, have the conversation at a coffee shop before you’re even in a private area in case the person reacts poorly and you need to leave quickly.
Spend some time alone coming up with phrases you might feel comfortable with. You might go the direct facts route and say, “I have an autoimmune condition called lichen sclerosis.” Depending on your sense of humor, you might make a joke about it. You might start soft with an admission that you’re anxious because of fear of rejection. It all comes down to what you’re comfortable sharing and how.
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Dear How to Do It,
I am a 30-year-old female, and all my life have struggled to be completely comfortable and in the moment. For some reason, I have needed to be alone to come. I never orgasmed with a partner until I met the man I’ve been with for the past two years. He was a bit of a noob and that made it easier to “let go.” He is an out-of-this-world boyfriend, and I’m able to come with him when I use my fingers during sex. I’m uncomfortable with oral and vibrators. I don’t have any complaints except that I can’t seem to not completely clench my whole body and go rigid. For some reason, I can’t come when I’m not completely still. Also, I end up with a tension headache from trying to be absolutely still and it sort of dampens the moment. I don’t come as hard as I do when I’m alone. I don’t know what to do. I have been tense my entire life and would love to feel the way I do when I’m alone… but with him.
—Paralyzed Pillow Princess
Dear Paralyzed Pillow Princess,
I think fighting the tension is causing more tension. Muscle tension of some sort is pretty integral to the process of orgasm, though the amount of tension you describe needing does sound like it’s on the far end of the spectrum. It’s worth trying to see whether you can relax into the tension. It’s also worth taking orgasm off the list of goals and seeing what might sneak up on you, as it were, while you’re focused on plain old pleasure.
You also might ask yourself why your boyfriend’s low experience level made it possible for you to relax around him to some degree. Are you concerned with impressing people? Worried about maybe looking weird while you’re orgasming? If you can figure out what’s up with your difficulty letting loose, you might be able to work on that issue in particular.
Finally, consider that this might just be the way you’re wired. People often write in with this idea that they ought to find everything pleasurable and orgasm in all the ways, and that simply isn’t how most people work.
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Dear How to Do It,
I’ve never had an extremely high sex drive, but it was there if you looked. Nearing 40, I have been taking medications for bipolar disorder for the better part of my 30s, no longer drink very much, and recently found out I not only have PCOS but was blessed with early onset perimenopause, which I am treating with an HRT patch. However, my partner is understandably frustrated—his sex drive is that of a much younger man. I’ve read all the books and nothing much is helping. Any thoughts?
—Deader Than a Doornail
Dear Deader Than a Doornail,
If you aren’t interested in sex at all but you’re comfortable opening up the relationship and your partner is open to other sexual partners, that might be just the solution.
If you’re interested in sex in theory but can’t seem to find the spark, you have some options. You can try sensate focus or the “fake it till you make it” approach, which involves morning and writhing like you’re turned on in the hopes that it’ll jumpstart your desire. You can have a conversation with your psychiatrist about whether your medication can be adjusted or supplemented. Also, consider ways to platonically connect with your partner while he masturbates, such as holding him.
Dear How to Do It,
I am a 32-year-old, bi male and I have a secret strong fetish for nonconsensual porn, which surprises me and makes me question whether something is wrong with me. I’m not talking about role-playing porn either. I tend to get off to nonconsensual scenes in movies and TV shows featuring both men and women. But I’d be horrified by the prospect of this actually happening in real life.
I’m a very respectful, empathetic, caring, and overall mild-mannered person…but I question if there’s a demon lurking within. Am I a bad person for thinking these thoughts and why does it turn me on when there’s ZERO chance I would ever try in real life? Overall, I would describe myself in bed as a mostly passive top role with occasional spanking, hair pulling, and light choking. Sometimes my sex partners want to be choked even harder but this always makes me quite uncomfortable, so overall, I don’t think I ever manifest any real Dom desires in my actual sex practices. I also have an almost zero interest in BDSM, although multiple sex partners are so into it, that my curiosity is somewhat piqued. Maybe my nonconsensual fantasies arise from porn boredom? I have noticed that my porn tastes have evolved into more and more novelty. Is this indicative of anything and is therapy recommended?
—Movies Aren’t Real Life
Dear How to Do It,
Spanking, hair pulling, and choking all fall under BDSM. One note on the latter though: Please get the idea of any choking being safe or a “light” form of play out of your head. While I support the right of consenting adults to make dangerous decisions, the information aspect of informed consent is crucial and all we know at this time is that strangulation is associated with immediate health problems and may have long-term consequences—including damage to the brain.
As to your question, rape fantasies are pretty common. We usually hear about them from women who imagine themselves as the person being raped. But it’s not unheard of for people to fantasize themselves as the rapist.
I don’t know whether there’s “a demon lurking” inside you. That is not something an advice columnist can answer. If you’re being literal about the demon thing, a priest may be in order. If you’re being metaphorical, do some introspection around the issue, or yes, go see a therapist—not because fantasies are necessarily problematic but because this is worrying you.
—Jessica
More Advice From Slate
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