My Boyfriend is a Hot, Traveling Musician. I Bet You Know Where This is Going.

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’m dating a musician. He makes a lot of his money by playing gigs in different cities. Because of this, he’s often traveling and playing shows at bars and other small venues. His band members like to hang out and drink afterward and mingle. I actually met him at one of his shows! But that’s where the problem comes in.

Since I met him at one of these shows, I have this fear he’s going to meet someone else this way and hook up with them. We’re still a fairly new couple (six-ish months) and he has a few shows coming up that will require a bit of travel in the fall. I’m worried sick and have no idea what to do about it. It doesn’t help that he’s admitted to me about not being the most faithful in past relationships, but that he’s done work on himself to not repeat those mistakes. How do I trust him? I can’t travel with him everywhere, and I don’t want to have to feel like I have to keep an eye on him!

—Music Man

Dear Music Man,

If you are approaching your relationship in an open-hearted way (which I would argue is the best way to approach a relationship), you trust your partner until they give you reason not to. That’s really all you can do. It’s all one big leap of faith. One of the reasons cheating hurts so much is that it’s an exploitation of that requisite trust. To love is to allow someone access to your heart, and with that can come misuse. This goes for everyone, by the way, traveling musician or not. A partner that you live with, who never travels without you, can cheat on you.

If you haven’t specifically talked to him about your fears, you should. Maybe he could assuage them. Though he has admitted to past infidelity, perhaps there were relationships where he stayed faithful despite his job that could be the model here. He’s not destined to cheat—“lose him how you got him” is an expression, not a law. Unfortunately, only time will tell you if your investment in this guy will pay off.

I get where you’re coming from, though—it seems like asking for fidelity from a traveling musician is a tall order, given the stereotypes. You don’t seem the non-monogamous type, but it could be useful to ponder whether an open arrangement would mitigate your stress. It doesn’t have to be a free-for-all, but you could have an agreement that “what happens on the road stays on the road.” If you eliminate the concept of cheating from your relationship, it’s a lot more difficult to be cheated on (though obviously, non-monogamous people still do violate their arrangements). It’s worth thinking about, at least.

Dear How to Do It,

What makes for “good” group sex? I’ve had one encounter in which my partner and I got involved with some friends of ours. It was fine, but I frequently felt overwhelmed in the wrong way. I actually like being pushed to the edge of tolerable sensations when I’m one-on-one, but the group sex felt different. Some of this might be that I know where to direct my response and attention when I’m just with one person. If I need to ground the sensation, there is only one human to focus my energy and feeling on. I’m not sure how to do that when it comes to group sex.

I wonder, from time to time, about group encounters as a means of pursuing that feeling of “overwhelm” and “taking me out of my head and skin” that I crave. (Current avenues of pursuing intense sensation with a single partner include impact play, the Violet Wand, and a hefty dose of edge play.)

That said, it’s been 20 years since my last group encounter, and I am growing curious again. I know I would communicate better about not being the carcass-under-vultures focus point that limited my ability to respond and hopefully find people who were just as interested in each other as they were me.

I am content with my long-term partner who gets my weird brain and reasons for having sex, but this whole multiple partners thing baffles me, even in conversations about speculative situations. So, please indulge me. What, in your expert opinion, makes for “good” group sex?

—But Where Do You Focus Your Energy?

Dear But Where Do You Focus Your Energy?,

The frustrating truth is that group sex isn’t for everybody, and I’m not sure that it’s for you. For one thing, the kind of sensory overwhelm you describe enjoying during sex is, I think, different from the kind of social overwhelm that you describe experiencing during group sex. Just because you enjoy one doesn’t mean you will like the other. Group sex/sex parties allow people to let go, yes, but in addition to the ample stimuli there are a lot of elements begging to be considered: Am I into that guy (or that guy or that guy)? How do I feel about people watching me? Am I adding to or subtracting from the vibe? These things can take you out of the moment and push you into a more cerebral space. That’s to say nothing about the consent matter. If the kind of gathering that you’re at is one where asking for consent is encouraged and people are actually following that guideline, you may be switching gears (however briefly) from feeling to thinking, which can also take you out. If you’re in the kind of space where opt-out consent is the de facto law (that is, in the words of Zachary Zane, a space where it is assumed that you can engage in certain behaviors without asking), and sex parties often follow this model regardless of what’s posted on the wall, it can be jarring to navigate these assumptions if you aren’t in an anything-goes kind of mood. I think you put it well: You can feel like a carcass under vultures.

One way to get around this is to potentially organize. A themed party like all-oral or a circle jerk can reduce the number of variables. A gang bang isn’t probably something you want (the ultimate carcass-under-vultures experience) but going into something along those lines, with a little more form, might make for a less daunting experience. Also, you don’t have to have sex with everybody or even multiple people at a sex party. You can use it just as a reliable cruising spot, hone in on a person or two, and play with them during your time there. They may have designs to hook up with others, so you just take it as it comes, adjusting your focus moment to moment but breaking up the crowd into bite-size chunks (with your body).

Regarding your other question, what makes for good group sex  is, broadly speaking, the Venn diagram (hi Kamala Harris!) of what makes both a good party and good sex: Good communication, connection, friendly vibes, and a sense of excitement. (Granted, there are sex parties whose participants are there not to connect, and they have their own good time. I’m just being general here.) It helps if everyone is, to some degree, attracted to one another—that’s the big difference between a well-curated orgy (perhaps by someone who has had sex with all or many of the attendees) and a public-ish sex party, which can be a real grab bag (emphasis on the grab). The former might be more your speed—perhaps if you do the organizing, you’ll have a greater sense of control and an easier time finding the right kind of overwhelm.

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Dear How to Do It,

My straight-edge partner recently joked that “downers make you horny” because for me, they do. It was a weird realization to have to explain that’s not the main outcome, it’s just the outcome for me. It’s pretty much the only time I can be relaxed enough to actually feel aroused. It’s the same whether alone or with someone. I’m wound so tightly that no matter how hot a person or an idea or an image is, I’m not getting turned on until I can relax. I’m a light drinker and light weed smoker, and I take drugs even less often than I drink or smoke. This means that I just don’t get turned on much even though I know I’m not asexual.

I don’t want to feel like I’m dependent on something to have sex or masturbate, so I don’t consume often. I’ve also always been this way. I’m in therapy to deal with other more pressing issues, but we also do breathing exercises and talk about anxiety. I took prescription anxiety drugs in the past but the brain fog and drowsiness were worse than the anxiety with benzos and my blood pressure is too low to take the other types. What are other tools or techniques I could use here? I’d love to be able to just enjoy sex and get into it without feeling like it has to be a whole process. It makes me feel like I’m abnormal and cold and I hate it.

—Anxious

Dear Anxious,

In a previous column on this topic, I corresponded with Georgia State University professor Amanda Gilmore, who has conducted research on the subject of alcohol use and sex. Based on the data she collected, Gilmore concluded that, “Although alcohol may increase self-reported arousal, it decreases physiological arousal. That means it has more to do with thoughts, attitudes, and expectancies than biological effects of alcohol.” Your letter suggests that you have assumed as much. The upside, according to Gilmore is that, “expectancies can be changed if needed.” Which is what brings you here.

It’s great that you’re in therapy. Some things you might also want to look into for stress reduction include: exercise, yoga, meditation, and general mindfulness. Tantric/erotic massage could help you relax while keeping things in the realm of the sexual or sensual. If you’re kinky, or curious about BDSM, entering into subspace—a pleasant state of altered consciousness that is deeply relaxing and euphoric—could be another hot, substance-free way to get into the downer-like headspace that turns you on. Receiving impact play is a popular way to get there, but there are many others. (Of course, you’re going to want a safe, trustworthy partner and lots of consent for that).

In her email, Gilmore recommended Better Sex Through Mindfulness: How Women Can Cultivate Desire, which I haven’t read (but have been meaning to). I think it’s right to want to turn away from substances and look for natural anti-anxiety methods. At the same time, you describe light drinking and smoking, which does not strike me as a huge problem. Light drinking and smoking—or social lubrication—have been helping people get in the mood for … centuries? Many people probably wouldn’t even identify such behavior as an issue, which means you’re aware and, well, already mindful. If you’re not already on your way, you’re at least pointed in the right direction. Keep it up.

Dear How to Do It,

I finalized my divorce at the end of 2019. My short but very toxic marriage to my ex wife left me and my life in total shambles both mentally and financially (she was abusive as well as manipulative and narcissistic.) At the end of 2018 I started therapy to help with the mental health issues that I was struggling with. Two years into therapy, I started thinking and talking about sex again. I had trust issues that I was working through, but I craved intimacy and closeness. My therapist helped me appreciate that it isn’t just sex I was after but all the warmth and intimacy that can come before, during, and after sex.

I knew I wasn’t in any place to date seriously yet, but my sex drive and the rest of me seemed to be returning to health. I knew from past experience that casual sex often causes issues because one or both partners end up with more complex feelings at some point. More importantly, my confidence and mojo was all fucked up from my toxic marriage, and I hadn’t been on a first date in almost 10 years. Somewhere in all this I stumbled across sugar dating and a site that facilitates these arrangements. Even though I was still financially recovering from my divorce, I was aware women often viewed me as a provider-type. So I decided to lean into this a bit to get my needs met and try sugar dating. I knew from the jump I was only a visitor in this space but I was losing my mind after not having any sex for over two years and I needed to do something to get some confidence back.

Over an 18 month period I participated in four arrangements and went on a few other first dates through the sugar dating website. This also gave me a chance to explore ethical non-monogamy because I participated in sugaring on and off, while also dating other people in the non-monogamy/poly space. All of this did wonders for my communication, my confidence, my understanding of relationships, my understanding of what I want and need, advocating for myself, and maintaining my boundaries. Also, I participated in all of this with a lot of emphasis on sexual safety: regular STI tests, only getting physical with partners after we traded results, condoms, and a general respect for myself and my partners. I also remain friends with two of the sugar babies I met on the site—one who has quit sugaring and another who is still participating (not with me).

Now, I have not participated in sugaring for over six months, I do not intend to again anytime soon (if ever), and I am starting to want to date with more intention. I have had multiple STI tests since leaving that scene, and all is well. My wallet took a minor hit but otherwise I consider this experiment a success.

However, I’m now wrestling with a couple of questions:

1. How honest am I obligated to be about all of this with future partners? Obviously I am in favor of full transparency and radical honesty, but I do feel some amount of shame about participating in sex work, even though I don’t think it’s my own shame. More of a “I know some people will be judgmental of this and draw wrong conclusions.” I tried to participate as ethically as I could. I treated all of the women I’ve dated with respect, I also helped and supported them in ways outside of just money. I don’t judge or shame sex work in any form, and given that two of the women I dated still maintain friendships with me I don’t think I behaved in a way that was problematic. Also, I’m very grateful for everything I learned.

2. Something that has come to my attention through therapy and all of this dating is: I really like sex. What does it look like in 2024 for a man to stand comfortably in his masculinity, desire for sex and physical intimacy, and feel comfortable and unashamed that this is not only part of who I am, but a meaningful part of who I am that needs a healthy outlet for me to feel healthy and feel whole? I’m not trying to be coercive or say I’m entitled to sex, but I also don’t want to hide this part of me.

I have received a lot of feedback over the last couple years that I’m a good communicator, supportive partner, and I have my mojo back. But any resources you might suggest such as books or podcasts to help me fully embody all of this and not feel ashamed would be greatly appreciated.

—Sexually Awakened But Still Feeling Some Shame

Dear Sexually Awakened But Still Feeling Some Shame,

Here’s my philosophy on sexual-history disclosure: You are under no obligation to tell random partners anything outright, but don’t lie. In the event that someone asks if you’ve patronized a sex worker in the past, you may get rejected, and said rejection may well be for bullshit reasons. But I think someone who rejects you for bullshit reasons is doing you a favor by filtering themselves out. Otherwise, tell as much or as little as you like. Your past is what led you to this point and your experience with sugaring, as you recount, helped you in the areas of communication, confidence, self-advocacy, and understanding relationships. All great things.

They’re so great, in fact, that I think that if you lead while centering those qualities, you’re already way ahead of the game in terms of standing comfortably in your masculinity. Treat your partners like people and read the room. Different women will want different things in men. It’s OK for you to be sexual and to want that in a relationship. It’s better for you to be upfront about that than to obscure it—that will only lead to frustration. I think the idea is less about managing your sexuality than it is finding a partner whose libido and desire is a good match for yours. It might take a while to find one, but believe me there are women out there who will appreciate a horny, confident guy.

I’m only going to give you reading suggestions because I don’t listen to any podcasts on this matter. I encourage you, though, to seek out podcasts by women (or prominently featuring them) that are focused on women’s issues or that interrogate men through a female lens. To that end, books about how boys/men are socialized may be useful for background: Peggy Orenstein’s Boys & Sex: Young Men on Hookups, Love, Porn, Consent, and Navigating the New Masculinity and C.J. Pascoe’s Dude, You’re a Fag: Masculinity and Sexuality in High School immediately spring to mind. There’s really good stuff about male socialization in Walt Odets’ Out of the Shadows, but that’s a book about gay men, so you’re likely to find the majority of it doesn’t really apply to your life. Still, a good read. A few other suggestions: The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love by bell hooks, Who’s Afraid of Gender? by Judith Butler, and The Man They Wanted Me to Be: Toxic Masculinity and a Crisis of Our Own Making by Jared Yates Sexton.

—Rich

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