I'm bi, but I've only ever been with my partner. Should I cheat?
A round-up of advice all about monogamy, kink, and the difficult work of treading one's own sexual path.
I have two quick Autistic Advice entries for you today! Though with the column’s increased focus on sex and kink, I’m really starting to bend the branding to its breaking point. That’s fine by me. This year (and this publication cycle) has been all about abandoning shame for me, and it seems like many readers have been following my lead and considering shucking off their own psychosexual hang-ups.
Regardless, if you have a question for me or a topic that you’d like to see me cover in this newsletter (whether it pertains to neurodiversity, sex, or something else altogether), hit up my Tumblr ask box.
Our first question comes from a bisexual AuDHDer who has only ever been sexual with their monogamous partner, but longs to experience a flirtatious dalliance with a sexy queer stranger:
Thanks for your question, Anon!
Because I am of the mind that the longing for queer expression/recognition/community cannot and should not be met with media consumption, I'm not going to tell you that there is any kind of game that can simulate queer erotic contact in a way that will be remotely satisfying for you.
Queerness is a thing you do. It is not a pin you can affix to your backpack, or a visual novel TikTok can sell you. We experience our queerness in relationship to others — not only via sex (though that’s certainly an important avenue for many), but also through conversation, mentorship, recognition, communal mourning and celebration, mutual support, and the shared making of art.
When a queer person tells me that they don’t feel “queer enough,” or that their queerness has never had the opportunity to be expressed, typically what they are expressing is that they lack a robust queer community, and they currently don’t get to live a queer life. Usually that must be remedied by forging more relationships with other LGBTQ people, and embedding oneself more firmly within queer spaces, so that they can be seen as they truly are, and appreciated as a valuable member.
If this is the case for you, Anon, a partial remedy might be something like volunteering to deliver meals to queer elders, or serving as a big sibling for LGBTQ youth, or even just joining a gay book club. Maybe you can enjoy some of those smutty queer dating sims together with other people! Once the appreciation of art is shared with other people who know your name and care intimately about you (and you about them), then it’s no longer passive consumption. It’s living out your queerness in a palpable way.
All of that said, your sexual desires and fantasies are unlikely to go away, even if forging more queer community ties is a bit of a balm for what ails you. You and your partner's desires for your relationship and its boundaries are important and matter, but so do your sexual fantasies and longing for queer connection. I would also encourage you to listen to the urge, Anon, that tells you that you'd love to flirt online with a sexy queer stranger as a way to let a little of the steam off. That fantasy provides you with valuable information about what it is that matters to you, what’s missing in your life, and how you’d like to see your own future unfold.
The wants you are feeling are real, and when disregarded, left unattended, or dismissed as “hurtful” or wrong, they can spiral out in all kinds of unpleasant ways, from just regular garden variety frustration, to resentment, to conducting years long emotional affairs with agoraphobic emo boys you met on Instagram (not that I know anything about that).
So please, do ask yourself, Anon: when you dream of having sex with another person, or even just experiencing their interest, what aspects of that are the most compelling or meaningful to you? Do you want to be recognized by another queer person as a sexually desirable, available person? Do you want to feel the rush of a developing romance? Do you want the future to be filled with possibility and excitement? Do you want to know that your life is not over, and that there's still more to learn about yourself and more experiences to enjoy?
Whichever of these desires resonate the strongest with you, they’re all perfectly good things to want. These are important aspects of life, and I promise you that it is very unlikely that you won't get to experience more desire, attraction, sexual contact, romance, and heartbreak in the years to come.
Most relationships end. Those that last more than a couple of years undergo dramatic shifts over the course of their existence. And so, it is very likely that you and your partner will either eventually split, or your various desires and needs will become incompatible in certain ways, and you will contemplate some kind of change to the relationship dynamic.
Or, failing that, someone will fail to communicate that a chasm has opened up between you, and cheat. Hopefully cheating is not what happens. But if it does happen, well, it's very common, and not the end of the world, or even necessarily the end of the bond.
How does it feel to confront this information? That in all likelihood, this relationship will either end, open up in some way, change dramatically in its dynamic, or be marked by one or both parties stepping out in some way, however small, be it an online flirtation or a kiss at a party or a sexual affair? Really think about these possibilities, Anon.
How you feel about all this information is important data, too. And regardless of what you and your partner decide your relationship is, for the time being, it is an important series of potentialities to reflect on and emotionally prepare oneself for.
Also worth asking: are these potential futures ones that you can speak to your partner about? One of these outcomes will likely be headed for you in time, not through any fault of your own, or due to lack of love, but simply because people change and relationships develop, in much the same way that an individual person develops. Whether or not these are subjects that can be broached in your relationship is itself valuable information, too.
Now personally, I am very biased, but I think there is very little harm in having some virtual sex with a consenting stranger, roleplaying sexy interactions online, or even getting on a cruising app and posting a few anonymized photos and seeing what kind of attention you get, then enjoying the rush. I think that kind of thing is all within the realm of the harmless and forgivable, but I’ve seen people end engagements over even less, so I respect that you and your partner might not feel the same way.
But I think it is worth at least contemplating that there is a full, long continuum of infidelity that exists, from having a whole secret marriage and family and keeping a partner in the dark about it on one end, say, and making bedroom eyes with a cute person at the bar and fantasizing about fucking them, on the other. If your partner did anything along that whole continuum, you might be hurt, and likewise they might be if you do. But you probably also recognize that not all activities pose an equal relationship threat.
Your partner would probably consider the online flirting that you’re fantasizing about to be cheating, but on some level, you clearly think that it’s a relatively lesser offense that does not truly threaten the relationship, and that it could bring you some welcome sexual relief (if you could get away with it). That is valuable information! It means that you can at least mentally stretch the boundaries of your monogamy a bit, but you’re not sure if your partner would.
You say you love your partner more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. But you can't promise yourself that. Every partner hurts one another in some way or another, sometimes even intentionally, over the course of a long relationship. But hurting one another in a relationship is, also, not the end of the world. We all make mistakes, say things we regret, lose control of our faculties at times, or are simply forced to reconcile that what we need conflicts with what another person does. Sometimes we put our needs first, even though it's uncomfortable.
I don't regret the times I’ve strained the boundaries of my relationships and cheated (which has happened in both monogamous and nonmonogamous arrangements of mine, over the years). I regret the lack of communication and my cowardice, which brought me to a hasty, unarticulated decision that hurt everyone involved. But I don't regret ever having chosen to listen to the needs that had been powerfully screaming inside of me, typically for years before I attended to them. And I don’t think you need to be ashamed of wanting a few things that your partner might not want either, Anon.
I think you and your partner should continue having very frank conversations about these topics, and do your best to regulate your own anxieties and feelings of relationship threat when the other party brings up an activity or an idea that makes the other feel scared. The choice isn't to remain monogamous or to become fully polyamorous with no hierarchy. There are a lot of activities you can both decide are either okay or not okay, and conditions under which you will engage in them.
Even what counts as "monogamy" is subject to fierce debate — that's part of why so many jealous straight people lash out in rage at one another for violating expectations they never articulated but feel very passionately about. Is texting someone you think is cute in a flirtatious but ultimately just friendly way cheating? Is dancing with someone else cheating? What kind of dancing is okay and is not? Is cuddling on the couch cheating? Working on erotica together? Kissing? Is watching porn with someone else cheating? Is masturbating to a video they sent you infidelity?
You might have a very visceral response to these questions, Anon, but you could just as easily find another monogamous person who is as adamant about completely opposing rules and definitions of what monogamy means to them. And so, it's worth talking with your partner and really being honest with yourself about what it is you want to do, what is decidedly off the table, and what the hell it even is that you two are talking about when you discuss your relationship and its limits. What does your monogamy mean?
There are lots of things you can do to scratch your queer sexual itch that are not having sex or dating someone else. Things like:
LARPing (yes, there is LARPing that has a sexual or romantic component!)
Tabletop games
Acting or improv that incorporates romantic or sexual elements
Going to a sex party and just WATCHING people fuck
Going to a gay bar and just hanging out and socializing
Going to a cruising bar and watching people fuck
Going to a dungeon for a class or a demo
Going on gay speed dating, but secretly agreeing that you're not actually going to take anybody home, you're just gonna see how it feels.
Wearing a slutty outfit to pride and waving and winking at people.
Exchanging heartfelt letters with a queer friend with whom you have chemistry, but who respects your relationship.
And yes, your aforementioned flirting with queer strangers on Fetlife/Lex/Tinder/whatever.
These are just some ideas, Anon, but the possibilities are limitless.
One day, you and your partner might agree that you are open to having sex with other people, but not to your partner forming lasting relationships with other people. (I am nonmongamous but decidedly not polyamorous, and so this is the type of arrangement I favor). Maybe you'll have threesomes together, or your partner will agree to watch you fuck a casual hook-up. In time your partner might decide they’re fine with you having virtual romances, or they might want to embark on sexual adventures of their own. Or maybe you'll just break up!
Who knows what the future holds! No matter what it does, you can figure it out with a spirit of love and commitment to your partner, but also the courage to name what you are feeling and to honor your desires. None of those things have to be incompatible, and monogamy doesn't have to be incompatible with getting a little thrill here and there either.
Good luck!
Our next question comes from a kink-curious asexual Autistic person who wants a lascivious partner with a virgin fetish to fall into their lap:
Anon, I will have to recommend that you abandon your fantasy that anything sexually fulfilling will occur without a massive amount of work. Running one's own sexual life requires a high caliber of communication, negotiation, and (frankly) self-promotion skills, as well as a significant amount of time and experience. If this is worth it for you, venture forth! If not, maybe now is not the right time.
I am working on a gay Autistic trans guide to cruising, and will have it run here sometime soonish, but in the meantime I do have some tips.
Do not use fucking Tinder. That is an incredibly vanilla, heteronormative site. You might have a negative impression of your chances of finding what you want because you've only had a glimpse of the most normie dating apps, and your friends' experiences with them. Tinder is a nightmare, do not mess around with it if you are looking for anything remotely kinky or non-heteronormative. To find the kinky, experimental kind of sex you want, you'll instead have to educate yourself, and go looking for the freaks.
Fetlife is a good place to start. It will be overwhelming to navigate at first, with all its early 2000’s internet jank, but keep pressing. It’s mysteriousness is part of what makes finding a partner on there so fulfilling when it happens. And there are some truly unique individuals out there worth learning from, in ways both good and bad!Fill out your profile with your interests, take a few sexy photos (whatever that means for you), and join local groups. Follow people who post about activities or topics you find interesting. Read lots of posts on people’s walls, and in the forums.
While you’re doing that, pick up some books on leather and kink history and study up. Jack Rinella is a favorite author of mine (and his stories of long, protracted courtships with potential submissives that often go awry might give you some perspective). Cruising: An Intimate History of a Radical Passtime by Alex Espinoza is a really valuable and more recently published history, and the tenacity of our queer ancestors in finding one another may inspire you. Classics of the kinky fiction genre like The Story of O, Justine, 9 1/2 Weeks, or even Jane Delynn’s Leash will help make you more conversant in the scene, making it easier for you to connect socially. And then there’s the buffet of informative online options, like
and Aurora Laybourn’s Drunk Church podcast, or ’s incredibly informative series of cruising how-to’s.I could go on and on, and you’ll find lots more recommendations in my Tumblr archive, but I am deliberately keeping my recommendation list lean, so that you will dig for what you are interested in, yourself.
After you’ve informed yourself a bit about kink and queer sexuality in the abstract, it’s time to get more concrete: look up local groups interested in rubber, leather, pup play, bondage, or whatever else intrigues you, find local dungeons, and see if there are any kinky social events in the area. Attend local munches (these are low-pressure social hangouts with no kinky play, designed for kinksters to meet one another at), and find out where the gay bars are in your area that have backrooms in them, as well as cruising spots. Cruisinggays.com and Sniffies have maps.
Check out spaces where people do kinky or sexual stuff together and just watch. Most dungeons have classes you can attend, for instance, and there are even rope-tying and bootblacking demonstrations you can find advertised on queer event boards, at queer bars, or even sometimes on places like Meetup or Eventbrite.
After considerable information gathering and self-searching, put yourself out there and take agency over your own sexual life. Message the people you find interesting, and I do mean just interesting. Learn from other bottoms, if you're a bottom. Trade stories with other subs. if you're a sub. Learn techniques from other Doms, if you're a Dom, or some combination of all these things if you're verse or switchy.
The leather world has a robust history of mentorship and apprenticeship, and these practices stay alive so long as we continue to respect them. Beyond that, it’s just good to get to know other people in the scene so that you can learn from one another’s mistakes and know whom to avoid. Much of this socializing can be initiated online, at first, or at structured events, both of which are more Autism-friendly.
Ultimately, though, you will have to practice the skills of recognizing what you want, and articulating those wants to others in some way.
If someone shares some kinky interests with you and seems compatible, make a specific suggestion for play: Want to meet up and practice our rope tying? Would you like to practice your spanking technique on me? or, I don't like having sex, but I'd love to use you as my personal footstool.
Remember that you and your partner get to set the terms for the engagement. Sex doesn’t have to happen, and it doesn’t have to mean anything other than what you want it to mean, and the play can be as intense, silly, brief, or long as you’d both like for it to be.
If you approach a prospective partner (either online or in person) and they reject you, that means consent has successfully happened. Everybody gets a pat on the back for that. Good job. There is no failure in articulating what you want and hearing what another person wants (or does not want), in return. That is how the enjoyable kinky play happens: by shooting your shot and negotiating around another person’s interests over and over again. There’s no skipping it, and no avoiding that often, interests just will not align.
Remember throughout all of this that your boundaries matter just as much as a partner’s does. If all you want is to drag a human puppy around on a leash, don't settle for someone who keeps pressuring you for sex. Just end the interaction. There are a whole lot of freaks out there with a whole array of interests, and most people who are kinky eventually learn to be gracious and work with what a prospective partner is into where possible.
But we also all have our dealbreakers. That's fine. You shouldn’t play football with someone who insists on tackle when all you want is touch. It's the same thing here. Kink is just silly pretend games. So find someone who wants to play a game you like to play.
Finally, please be patient. You can expect it to take at least two years to really find your footing in the kinky, queer world, really know what you want, and figure out how to articulate it successfully. That doesn't mean you won't have enjoyable (or at least interesting, informative) experiences along the way. But it is, undeniably, a lot of work.
I find it is better to lead off with realistic expectations here, because many people rush out hoping that a perfect partner will just magically appear who will fulfill all their desires and have no sexual hang-ups or limitations of their own. That is not how the world works. Every person that you speak to in a kinky context is a full human being with their own anxieties, sexual traumas, shame, areas where they lack experience, and desires they might believe are impossible to realize.
In kink, you have to learn to navigate really complicated interactions with each new person as its own independent thing. A lot of us make the mistake early on of thinking everyone else out there is a more seasoned, confident, and sexually voracious being than we are, and that all we have to do is find the partner who will “give” us a good time. But with our actions and negotiations WE make it a good time, together.
About 70 percent of the time that I go to a leather bar (like Chicago’s Cell Block), nothing particularly exciting happens to me. I stand around with a drink in my hand, wearing my little fetishy outfit, and I look at people, and watch others have sex, but never work up the courage to hit on anybody. Sometimes I don’t get approached, or nobody there is appealing to me, or a brief encounter starts and then stops very suddenly, and I go home.
But I have ALSO had incredible threesomes, and pup play scenes, and hypnokinky brainwashing sessions with people I’ve met there, or gone followed random dudes into alleyways or penthouse apartments and fucked their brains out. It’s a roll of the dice every time that I go out (and indeed, every time that I open up the Grindr app). You never know what will happen, you are owed nothing, each person is a mystery unto themselves, and all of that is part of the thrill.
Cruising is an exercise in patience. Men will wait in parks for literal hours, just watching the birds, hoping they get the chance to jerk off with another dude. As Leo Herrera has written about outdoor cruising, you never know what nature is going to give you. You have to learn to accept what she has to offer as it is.
The beautiful thing about sex that keeps us chasing after it again and again is that it’s far more interesting than it is satisfying. I highly recommend cultivating an outlook of curiosity and interest, and prioritizing being interested by things over trying to be made happy. You don’t have control over whether you'll get to have sex, or even have a good time. but you can always choose to try something new, learn about a new topic, explore yourself, study other people, and find something, anything, interesting about the experience. You’ll end up chancing upon exciting and pleasurable experiences so long as you keep going out into the world, finding all that is interesting to you.
When it comes to kink, if you don't put the work in, you get nothing out. But the more you reveal of yourself and stay present in the interaction, and really honor it as the specific, unique thing that it is, the more benefits you will reap -- not just sex or kinky play, but friendships, community ties, self-knowledge, and social skills.
I hope you have fun out there! But more importantly, I hope you learn a lot.
Love this. I didn’t even notice you had gone ‘off-brand’ 😆☺️