My Job Takes Me Away to Sea. I Gave My Boyfriend Permission to Use a Coping Mechanism. I Wish I Hadn’t.

How to Do It It’s a choice between a relationship like this or my career. Photo illustration by Slate. Photo Drazen Zigic/Getty Images Plus. Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily. 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 a 29-year-old female marine biologist. Due to the nature of my job, I often spend a lot of time at sea and away from everyone else except my research team for months at a time. Which is why my relationship with “Charlie,” male, 30, is a non-exclusive one and has been since we started seeing each other about two and a half years ago. Put simply, if I’m away for four months at a time, I figured he wasn’t going to stay celibate away from me, which meant either the relationship had a shelf life until my first assignment, or we could do it this way. So I know he’s with other women when I’m not around, and he makes sure to keep me informed in general terms about how things are going and regular STI results for when I’m about to get back. He’s careful, and given the circumstances, I couldn’t really ask for more. I was fine with it, at first. Lately, though, thinking of him with someone else has been bothering me. But I don’t really feel like I can change the terms of the relationship on the basis of, “I know I said X at the time, but now I don’t want to do that anymore, so let’s do Y instead.” I suspect he wouldn’t want to anyway, and I don’t really like the thought of making him go without. Still, I can’t get the intrusive thoughts out of my head. I want to keep him, such as it is, but I also don’t want to keep doing this, which would probably mean leaving my job. But my specialty is a niche one, and that would mean essentially giving up my entire career. I don’t want to do that either. Help! —Can’t Think of a Way Out Dear Can’t Think of a Way Out, Beliefs about heterosexual men that lead to assuming they won’t honor commitments around monogamy, or simply need to have constant sexual interaction in order to stay faithful in a relationship, are sometimes true and far from always the case. There are plenty of men in the world who only want or enjoy sex when there’s emotional investment, who are monogamous to such a degree that it seems more like an orientation than a preference, or who are willing to engage in the widespread adult practice of tolerating discomfort and the absence of an ideal out of gratitude for what they have, and respect for the feelings of the person they have it with. Sometimes (though there’s no guarantee that this is true for Charlie), straight dudes are going through the motions of hooking up because their partner introduced an open relationship structure and they feel that this is what’s expected of them, but don’t, inherently, want the openness or are happy for their partners to have lovers and have no real interest in lovers of their own. To me, what Charlie wants and would accept is a massive question mark with a wide variety of answers. You assumed that fidelity wasn’t on the table, didn’t seem to have directly inquired, and started by offering a compromise you didn’t fully want. You asked for what you imagined was possible, without finding out what actually was. You found the situation tolerable, no longer do, and are avoiding the discussion because you believe—again, with no mention of any discussion where you would have been able to find out facts of Charlie’s position—he won’t agree to change the structure of your relationship. Talk to Charlie, let him know what’s bothering you, ask what he wants, and think together about scenarios that are likely to be a better fit. Consent is an active and ongoing practice. In the same way that anyone is free to say, mid-thrust, that they want to stop, pause, or change something about a sex act that is happening, you do have the right to say that you’ve realized X is not working for you, in this way and that way, and need something to change. How Charlie responds is likely to let you know a lot about whether the relationship is worth continuing, and how much he’s willing to make compromises to keep things reasonably feasible. Regardless of how things go with Charlie, take a long look at why you’re considering sacrificing your career in order to “keep him, such as it is.” Talk it over with friends. If you have the appropriate kind of rapport with colleagues, get their insight on how different types of relationships work (and don’t work) for marine biologists. Consider your values and tendencies with romantic partners in general, the relationship you have with Charlie, and also how these long periods of isolation affect the rest of your social life and your emotional well-being. Get a deeper understanding of why walking away from your speciality feels like an option before you make any moves that risk your professional standing. Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don‘t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication. Dear How to Do It, I, a 38-year-old woman, am a collared submissive in an amazing relationship with the man of my dreams, my Daddy Dom. We have a full-time D/s dynamic that is incredibly fulfilling and rewarding for us both. Our kinks and limits are fully aligned, and we bring each other so much joy. I have never felt love like this before and have never been loved so well. I have always considered myself a complete submissive, with not a single bratty bone in my body. However, my Daddy has awakened a switch side in me that we both LOVE. It’s rarely a planned event, and when I switch, it is very intense and feels very natural. I am submissive almost 24/7, so slipping into and coming out of the dominant persona is very challenging. It can take days to feel “normal” again and properly return to our dynamic. During this transition time, I feel quite uneasy and uncertain about myself and my place in the world. My anxiety really flares up, and daily life becomes quite difficult. We usually handle this by backing off from some of our rules and protocols until I feel like myself again. Ideally, we would love to explore my dominant side more often and more easily. The anxiety and disruption to our dynamic, my sense of identity, and life make me reluctant to switch, but it’s something we both enjoy so very much when it happens. We have discussed Daddy asking me to switch as an explicit direction from him to help me feel more secure about it. But then it doesn’t feel natural or authentic. We don’t enjoy “role-play,” so it just doesn’t feel good. Might you have some advice on how I can transition from sub to Dom and back again more often, safely, and easily? Or do we accept that it needs to be an occasional special treat with plenty of time to transition back to our rightful places? —Seldom Switchy Submissive Dear Seldom Switchy Submissive, For help with your letter, I reached out to Lola Jean, co-founder of 7DaysofDomination and an experienced BDSM player, who sent several thoughts over email: Do you and your partner have any rituals you do—either separate or together—that get each or both of you in a submissive or Dominant mindspace? Perhaps you don’t because those roles come so much more naturally to you, but it could be worth adopting a role you embody less. This could be an outfit, a playlist, an entry activity that you do with your partner like slow sensation play.If you already have an idea of your persona and who you are as a Dominant, this can probably cue you into what kind of ritual would be suited to your needs. If not, I encourage you to be inquisitive about what parts of Domination appeal to you. What do you like about Dominating and what are your characteristics when you do so? Are you more sensual? Do you enjoy being worshipped by your partner as a submissive or probing him like a little experiment? The former would suggest to make a ritual out of your submissive dressing you, massaging you, while the latter could pair well with performing sensation play on your partner as a bridge activity. If you are more chaotic, how about an unhinged playlist? If you’re more physical than psychological, maybe it’s about taking your time with picking out every detail of the outfit and giving a “look but don’t touch” tour. Like all of BDSM, there are a million options that go as far as your imagination can carry you. The hope is that this can come more Pavlovian to you and you can shorten the ritual over time. Much like putting a collar, latex, or sometimes removing all of their clothing on can help people drop into their space instantaneously.Similarly, you’ll likely want to add bridge activities to help you transition from a Dominant headspace to submissive over time, in addition to aftercare, both with your partner but also on your own. It sounds like you may not be giving yourself enough aftercare when you are in a Dominant position—which makes sense; we tend to focus more on aftercare for submissives, but the comedown from top drop can be quite heavy! Get to know your pacing. Some people may be able to bounce back within a day of the last scene, but others have quite the hangover and need more energy or time in between to puddle jump from each side of the slash. There’s no reason your bridge activities can’t be fun or a part of your dynamic to help you along the way, so figure out what works for each of you and take your time in getting there and figuring it out! For ideas on how to handle aftercare when you’re coming out of the dominant role, you have a great resource in your partner. The more nuance you can bring to your understanding of what makes that shift difficult and contributes to the anxiety you feel, the more information you’ll have about what you might need afterwards. What makes the shift in roles so unsettling? What are your anxieties focused on? And what is the rest of your identity, outside of these sexual power dynamics, that might be able to support you when you’re shifting from submission to dominance and back? Good luck. Share Your Story With How to Do It! Readers often have great suggestions for our letter writers, occasionally disagree with a point our How to Do It writers make, or simply want to provide some additional advice. Each month, Jessica and Rich will be replying to some of these comments and suggestions from readers. Write to us! Dear How to Do It, I have a diaper fetish. The trouble is that every time I get into a relationship, my significant other ghosts me as soon as they find out. Am I going to have to abandon something I love if I ever hope to find romance? —I Guess You Can’t Always Get What You Want (he/him) Dear I Guess You Can’t Always Get What You Want, Your phrasing here strongly suggests that you’re waiting until you’ve built a significant relationship to reveal your fetish. Most people, especially with age and life experience, can at least sense on some level when someone is hiding something important. So, you’re (possibly, at times, literally) sitting on a big secret, which you describe as a fetish, and, once your partner has become emotionally attached and you’ve become part of each other’s lives, you’re expecting them to roll with a big reveal. Whether you’re eventually disclosing this information directly or passively waiting for them to stumble across some hint, that sort of behavior is seriously off-putting to even the most open and generous partners. Even if they’re open to participating in your fetish, or politely ignoring the signs of your solo practice, it’s unreasonable to ask someone to look past what is likely months of willful omission. If you’re using the word fetish in the dictionary sense—meaning a rigid requirement for sexual arousal, gratification, or fulfillment—that feeling of betrayal on their part is compounded. If that’s the case, you didn’t leave out something that can be incidental to your life or irrelevant to a sexual partnership. And it begs the question of whether you will be able to abandon this practice while engaging in what is usually meant by romance. Think it through: If that definition rings true, consider whether you want to pursue treatment with a sex therapist to understand what your options are and work toward your preferred outcome. If you can find a way to be upfront enough to leave your prospective partners feeling as though you’ve been honest, there’s probably more wiggle room than you think, especially if your situation is less stark than it seems from what you’ve written. Depending on your desires, and the desires of people you come across, you might be able to build a romantic relationship with someone who is asexual. If you’re able to be present, connected, and intimate during sexual interactions that don’t involve diapers or associated themes and objects, you can carve out privacy to cater to that fetish on your own, or you may be able to take turns being indulged and indulging your partner in something they love that you don’t find very enticing. Especially if you’re speeding up the process by being honest up front, or searching in the fetish community, you might find someone who shares your fetish for diapers, along with compatibility in the other areas that are important for a relationship. Or a person who isn’t squicked out by your personal particulars and is turned on and fulfilled by supporting the erotic joy of others. What you have to abandon if you hope to find romance is your tendency to withhold relevant information. Long-lasting and healthy relationships are built on trust, and you’re undermining that. Everything else is a matter of looking in the right places, luck, and the patience to keep searching until you find the right match. —Jessica More Advice From Slate I’m a college-aged, assigned female at birth, bisexual person who has so far only had relationships with women. I’ve had sex with women and trans men, but never a cis man, and though I’m not opposed to the idea, one thing, in particular, stresses me out. Never miss new Slate Advice columns Get the latest from Prudie and our columnists in your inbox each weekday, plus special bonus letters on Saturdays. Advice Sex