How to Do It is a column offering sex advice.Got a question? It’s anonymous!
Dear How to Do It,
My boyfriend and I have been together for about two years, and we’ve both wanted to explore a threesome. I found a trans woman I liked, and he seemed into her too. We went ahead with it, but it didn’t go as I imagined. He paid more attention to her than to me. I think I’ve also developed a crush on her, but I’m not sure it’s mutual; she mentioned being bisexual, but I have my doubts about her attraction to cis women—or me specifically.
Afterward, we talked, and he apologized, but I keep replaying in my mind how he essentially ignored me. It’s been pretty humiliating, honestly, and I’m unsure how to move on. Before this, our relationship felt really strong, but now I’m questioning whether I should break up with him over an idea I suggested in the first place. How do I get past this? Should I even try?
—I Hate It Here
Dear I Hate It Here,
Your boyfriend’s behavior wasn’t ideal. A threesome is supposed to involve everyone, and while you can’t expect perfect attention distribution, he definitely shouldn’t have focused solely on the new person at your expense. It’s concerning behavior that could make you hesitant about similar experiences in the future. His actions seem shortsighted, especially if he wants these kinds of encounters to continue.
Ultimately, it’s up to you to decide if you can move past this. He disappointed you, and you have every right to end things there. However, consider this: it was your first time in this type of situation together, and not everything can be anticipated—not even his reactions. Now that he’s aware of how detrimental his focus on the third party was, he might act differently in the future. The novelty could have distracted him from your connection, which is pretty common. And hey, if he had a good time, maybe you can find some comfort in the idea of ‘compersion’—feeling joy in your partner’s pleasure with others. But, that demands some ego-checking on your part, and it’s not something everyone can handle. You could choose to still feel hurt by this; you’re entitled to that. But if you’re considering forgiveness, perhaps share your feelings about breaking up with him. It might help him understand how serious this was for you. This kind of conversation could even deepen your bond—if that’s what you want.
Dear How to Do It,
I’m a 35-year-old woman with some genderqueer aspects who falls somewhere on the asexual spectrum. I grew up religiously, which led to a lot of internalized shame around sex. For a long time, I attributed my lack of sexual experience to my asexuality. Fortunately, I’ve shed much of that shame and now accept my asexuality with more peace. I have a healthy solo sex life, and I’ve even made significant progress dealing with vaginismus through my solo endeavors. However, I’ve never had partnered sex and I’m not really into dating.
Here’s my dilemma: I’m curious and playful when it comes to sex. I want to experience it with a partner, even though I don’t feel spontaneous sexual desire for anyone. That said, I’d be willing to use an app to find that connection. But what do I say to the person? Should I be honest about it being an experiment for me, and that they’re somewhat like a new “toy” (though I will absolutely prioritize their comfort and consent)?
Is that appealing to people? Can I skip the dating part and just meet up to have some fun? I’m open to any gender, but I think I’d feel safest with another woman or someone who identifies as genderqueer. And, is it foolish for me to contemplate this, with all the talk of STIs like herpes and syphilis? Is this little experiment I’m curious about worth it? What precautions should I take?
—Asexual and Curious
Dear Asexual and Curious,
Many people are excited about guiding those who are inexperienced, and you’re not alone. And honestly, lots of folks are okay without a traditional date before having sex. It might be worth noting that the more specific you are in your profile, the more likely you’ll attract people with similar interests—this can save you both from awkward situations that stem from mismatched intentions. You can absolutely specify that you’re interested in women or genderqueer partners. It sounds like you might find success on an app like Feeld, but there are plenty of other options out there.
Being sexually curious isn’t silly. Casual sex often isn’t strictly necessary for many, it can simply be a fun way to connect with others. Sure, there are risks with sexual activity, as with many things in life. You can take steps to protect yourself—like using condoms or dental dams and checking on STI statuses—but no method is more effective than a comprehensive approach. It’s why people now often refer to “safer sex” rather than “safe sex.”
If you prefer to minimize risks, then staying solo might be the go-to. But life is about experiences, and I believe sex is worth the risk. Just remember, if things don’t go as expected, it’s not the end of the world.
Have Your Own Story to Share With How to Do It?
Readers often have worthwhile tips for our letter writers. Sometimes you might find differing opinions or additional advice from them. Each month, suggestions and feedback will be addressed by our team.
Dear How to Do It,
I often find my mind drifting during sex. I’ll get lost in thoughts about chores, responsibilities, or even just noises around me. Are there any tips for staying present during these moments? Or does this simply mean the sex isn’t engaging enough?
—Somewhere Else
Dear Somewhere Else,
It’s good to reflect on the bigger picture. If your mind wanders, it could signal something about the sex or your connection with your partner. Consider asking yourself if this is the type of sex you truly enjoy. Sometimes, the most compatible partners might not spark chemistry in practice. It’s worth pondering, even if the answers aren’t clear.
The kind of sex where you fully immerse yourself can feel truly rewarding. To snap back into the moment, practicing mindfulness could be beneficial. Meditation can help sharpen your focus as it involves repeatedly redirecting your attention when your thoughts drift. Whether it’s breathing or a specific thought, the practice trains your brain to manage distractions over time. That might help you connect better during intimate moments.
—Rich
More Advice From Slate
I’m a man in my 50s in a wonderful relationship with a woman in her 40s. After dating for several years, our sex life has blossomed into something involving consensual desires, including bondage and domination, which I facilitate. I’m curious about why she enjoys pain. Should I analyze it too deeply, risking our great connection? Or should I just enjoy what we have and let things unfold naturally?
