How-To

4 Things to Consider When Choosing a Sex Therapist on lifesexplicit

Kate Sloan
I don’t have a suitable photo to go with this post, so let’s just pretend this is me in my therapist’s waiting room…

Sex therapists are so fucking cool. I would say that they’re “doing the lord’s work,” if I were religiously inclined; instead, I’ll just say that they save lives – because I truly believe that they do.

Sexual shame and sexual trauma are so insidiously evil that they can go unexamined for years, even decades – festering inside, often ruining relationships along the way. Sex therapists help their clients exhume and examine these forces, and hopefully heal from them.

As I’ve told you before, finding the right therapist can be really tricky, especially when you’re queer, trans, kinky, and/or non-monogamous. That’s why I’m so thrilled that there are searchable databases of sex-positive practitioners online now – such as the sponsor of today’s post, lifesexplicit, a hub for sexuality and relationships experts, including coaches, therapists, and educators. Yay!

If you’ve been thinking about hiring a sex therapist, sex coach, or similar, there are a few questions you might want to ask yourself before you start your search, to help clarify what you’re looking for…

 

What do you need help with?

Seems obvious, perhaps – but sometimes our issues can feel so overwhelming that we may not actually have a clear sense of what those issues are. Maybe spend some time journaling, or talking with a friend or partner, about the experiences/thoughts/feelings that have led you to consider sex therapy. Having clear language for your current struggles will be super helpful when you reach out to practitioners.

It’s okay if the scope and focus of your therapy end up changing, down the road. For instance, when I started working with a new therapist in 2020, I thought it was mainly to address issues around polyamory, but the deeper we went, the more it became clear that the roots of my struggles were childhood trauma, codependency, and people-pleasing – so that’s what we ended up working on most. Try just crafting a sentence or two about what you think your issue is, at the moment, to give potential therapists an idea of what sort of help you’re looking for.

(If you’re looking for a fun way to clarify what you struggle with, lifesexplicit has a bunch of quizzes about sexuality on their website that might get your neurons firing. For instance, their “Do I Have a Healthy Attitude Toward Sex & Intimacy?” quiz told me that I probably have issues with sexual insecurity and shame, which is… sadly accurate!)

 

What modalities are you interested in?

You might not know the answer to this, and it’s fine if you don’t – but it could help you narrow down the available options to decide on what type of therapy you’re seeking. You might know, for instance, that cognitive-behavioral therapy has not worked well for you in the past, so maybe you want to explore a more offbeat modality.

Worth noting here: While professionally accredited, board-certified therapists can be great, they are not the only ones who know useful things that can improve your sex life. Some of my most important lessons have been taught to me by relationship coaches, sexological bodyworkers, sex workers, and even tarot readers. I love that lifesexplicit includes conventional psychotherapists as well as polyamory coaches, Tantra teachers, sex educators, breathwork facilitators, and more.

 

What’s a dealbreaker for you?

Choosing a therapist or coach is a deeply personal process, and it’s perfectly okay to have high standards (as long as they aren’t limiting you so much that you’re unable to access care you urgently need!). Spend some time thinking about your must-haves and your dealbreakers, so that you can convey that information (if needed) when communicating with a practitioner you’re considering hiring.

For instance, some people might prefer to work with a therapist who has lived experience in queerness, transness, kink, polyamory, etc., while for others, the practitioner’s firsthand experience may not be as important as the types of clients they have worked with and the knowledge they’ve accrued. Some therapists list this type of information on their profile on sites like lifesexplicit, but if they don’t, you can usually ask them about it in an initial consult call.

 

What would “healing” ideally look like for you, and why do you want to heal?

Before I started trauma therapy, I thought a lot about the symptoms I was experiencing – dissociation, conflict avoidance, intermittent panic, etc. – but hardly gave any thought to what the opposite of those symptoms would be: peace, calm, strength, self-sufficiency.

I’m no therapist (not yet, anyway…), but I imagine it’s helpful for them if you can specify your desired outcome – whether that’s something tangible, like preventing a looming divorce, or something more abstract, like feeling confident. It’s always easier to work toward goals when you know what those goals are, and that’s doubly true when another person is helping you achieve those goals.

But consider, too, why you want to heal. There were times, early in my therapy process, when I felt like I was being dragged kicking and screaming to every session (metaphorically), and like I was only working on my issues because it would make me more palatable to the people in my life. This isn’t a useful attitude to take, though, and it’s certainly not an attitude that encourages growth and healing. I needed to figure out the reasons why I wanted to get better, for me. Other people might enjoy the effects of my healing secondhand, but first and foremost, my healing needed to be something I was doing for myself – and once I figured that out, I could reassure myself whenever it got hard, reminding myself of what, exactly, I was fighting for.

 

This post was sponsored by the lovely folks at lifesexplicit! Check out their quizzes, books, resources, and their database of sex-positive providers if you’re looking for a great sex therapist or other sexual health practitioner to speak to/work with. As always, all writing and opinions in this post are my own.

5 Ways To Tap Into Your Dom Energy

Kate Sloan

Being sexually dominant was an acquired taste for me, like coffee or scotch: it took some time for me to understand what was so delicious about it.

While I’m certainly no expert, I’ve experimented with various forms of dominance over the past several years, from verbal humiliation to financial domination, and I’ve gained a lot of confidence since I started. I can’t always conjure up a confident, dominant mood from thin air, especially when I’m stressed out or having a chronic illness flare-up, but I have learned a few tricks that make it easier for me to get into that dommy mindset. Here are some of them…

 

1. Unpack your people-pleaser tendencies

Not everyone struggles with this, but for some of us, it’s all too easy to get stuck in old people-pleasing patterns. While it’s possible to dominate someone based entirely on what they want, ultimately it’ll likely be a more satisfying scene for both of you if you’re able to tune into what you want, too.

Therapy was the most helpful thing for me in this regard; it taught me about the origins of my people-pleasing tendencies, and gave me tools for working through the guilt and shame I sometimes feel when prioritizing my own desires/pleasure, so that I can be a better and more assertive dominant.

 

2. Pick a role model

Sometimes it’s easier to be a dom if you imagine you’re someone else, at least at first. How would Shane from The L Word boss someone around in bed? What about Captain America? Dana Scully? Dolly Parton?

When you haven’t yet discovered (or created) your own “dom persona,” the one that feels most authentic to you, it can be helpful to “try on” other people’s personas and see how they feel. It’s a way of training your body and mind to feel comfortable in that dominant mode. If you’re not sure who to embody, dominatrix websites and kinky porn are great places to look for inspiration.

 

3. Explore in fantasy

Sexual fantasy is the best low-stakes way to experiment with things you’re curious about sexually. You don’t have to prepare anything or tell anybody – you just have to get yourself turned on and then let your mind wander where it will.

When gearing up to be dominant, pay special attention in your fantasies to what makes you feel powerful – which sex acts, positions, names, clothes, roleplay dynamics, etc. help you access a feeling of power? Sleuth out the parts of dominance that turn you on, and keep notes on these, so you can refer to them when discussing your desires with a partner.

 

4. Clothing & makeup & shoes, oh my!

They say that “clothes make the man”… I’d say, instead, that “clothes make the dom”! Or they can, anyway. Your choice of outfit, footwear, makeup, and even fragrance can have a big effect on how you feel in your body, and how you come across to others.

When I’m struggling to get into a dominant headspace, I’ll often slip into some ultra-high heels, or put on some fancy jewelry, or spritz myself with a formidable perfume. Even just a swipe of red lipstick can radically change how I feel about myself and how I carry myself. Aesthetic trappings may seem surface-level, but they can create change on a much deeper level, including in how dominant you feel.

 

5. Power poses

Move your body into a dominant-seeming position, and you’ll tend to feel more dominant. Science has established that certain “power poses,” like standing with your legs apart and your hands on your hips, actually tangibly affect your self-confidence.

Sometimes I’ll combine a power pose with a visualization when I’m trying to get into a dommy mood – like I’ll imagine I’m a queen looking out at a sea of her subjects, or a CEO addressing a boardroom full of subordinates. You can do this as a warm-up for a scene, or you can even incorporate power poses into a scene. Playing make-believe as an adult is underrated, if you ask me!

 

What are your favorite ways to tap into your dominant energy?

 

This post contains sponsored links. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

How to Connect with Other Kinksters on Dating Apps

Kate Sloan

One of the hardest things about being kinky (IMO) is meeting people you’re compatible with. Kinky interests tend to narrow your dating pool, especially kinks that are unusual or highly specific. It’s already hard enough to meet someone you get along with on a personality level – factor in the added complexity of sex and kink, and dating can be an intimidating task.

But there is hope! You can infuse a bit o’ kink into your early interactions with dating app matches, to get a sense of whether you’ll be a good fit. Here are some tips on how to do just that…

 

Image via Flure

Pick the right app

Certain dating apps attract kinkier demographics than others – which can, of course, affect how many cute perverts you’re able to connect with. You could try asking your local kinky friends what they’ve used, or you could check out an app that specifically aims to be sex-positive and kink-friendly, like Flure. Other kinksters are out there, hoping to find people like you – you just have to know where to look for them!

 

Put it in your bio

Okay, admittedly, not everyone reads bios. (This is one of my top complaints about dating apps, honestly!) But for those who do, you can leave a cute little clue about your kinks in there – or just straight-up say what you’re into, if that’s more your style.

I’ve gone back and forth over the years about how much detail to include. At times, I’ve simply described myself as kinky, or even just included a kink-adjacent photo amongst my other pictures – like me in a leather chest harness, or me wearing a 101 Kinky Things snapback hat.

At other times, though, I’ve mentioned specific kinks, e.g. that I’m submissive or that I’m into being spanked. Being explicit about sexual desires can lead people to assume you’re DTF right out of the gate, though – and I’m not, due to being demisexual – which is why I often end up deleting these kink disclosures not long after adding them in…

Image via Flure

Play a game

I used to like to play questions-based games with matches on apps sometimes, like “Let’s alternate asking each other questions about our lives,” or “What are your top 3 favorite ____ and why?” These conversations can be illuminating and fun, and also give you an opportunity to ask about the things you’re really curious about, like kink. Of course, you should ideally ease into this kind of thing; many people are put off by someone suddenly taking the conversation in a more sexual direction without building enough rapport first.

The Flure app has a built-in game called Sparks; it’s a chat-based icebreaker game that helps you and your matches get to know each other better. I love to see dating apps incorporating features that make dating more fun; it doesn’t have to be a slog! It can feel like play, and I think the best connections arise from that headspace anyway.

 

Test the waters with sexts

Okay, I’m not an expert on this one, because I don’t really like sexting with people I haven’t already established in-person chemistry with. (There’s that pesky demisexuality again!) It can make me feel uncomfortable, objectified, and pressured – which, by the way, is why I think it’s awesome that the Flure app has a “Safe Mode” where you’re prevented from seeing any explicit messages/photos someone else might send.

That being said – I know a lot of people do like to sext with strangers, or may at least want to exchange a few dirty texts prior to meeting, to feel out the vibe. If the rapport is there and things head in that direction, it could be the perfect moment to float your kink(s). “You’ve got a great ass – do you like having it spanked?” “Can’t stop thinking about you being on top of me, holding me down so I can’t move.” “Can I massage your feet before I go down on you?”

If the other person is amenable, fantastic! If not, well, at least you know now, and not three dates in.

 

Take good care of yourself if things go south

Dating and hooking up are always risky and vulnerable to some degree, but they can be especially so for people whose sexuality veers from the beaten path. When you tell someone you’re kinky – or even just hint at it – you are risking getting rejected, mocked, or flat-out ghosted. It’s just a fact of life, unfortunately.

But the good news is that dating apps make it easier to screen out the people who would do these things before you actually meet in-person, which can help keep you safer (physically and emotionally) when you make these kinds of disclosures. Dating is a numbers game, and the more people you filter out of your dating pool due to incompatibility, the closer you’ll get to finding the person/people you are compatible with.

That being said, it is totally okay to feel bummed out when someone reacts poorly to you sharing such an intimate part of yourself with them. Let yourself feel those feelings, and take care of yourself throughout that process as best you can – whether that means ordering delivery from your favorite restaurant, watching five episodes in a row of your favorite comfort sitcom, or complaining to your friend over the phone about how much kink-shamers suck. It’ll be okay. Eventually, this too shall pass, and you’ll be ready to get back on that horse – or back on that St. Andrew’s cross, as the case may be.

 

What tips have you found most helpful in connecting with other kinksters on dating apps?

 

This post was sponsored by the lovely folks at the Flure dating app! They’re all about prioritizing your comfort, safety, and freedom to explore your sexuality – check ’em out! As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

What Does It Really Mean to Be “Good in Bed”?

Kate Sloan

Sexual self-doubt is an epidemic. As if we haven’t already had sex-related shame heaped onto us since birth, a lot of sexual discourse online lumps people into a binary of “good at sex” versus “bad at sex.” Many of us are not given clear benchmarks of what these terms even mean, which makes it even more difficult to put the worry out of one’s mind: Am I a terrible lay?

 

Technique vs. approach

If worries about being bad in bed weren’t so prevalent, my industry – sex writing – would not exist as we know it. Articles abound, online and in print, that claim they’ll teach you “techniques” that will make you into some kind of sex god. Stroke the clit in a circular motion, tap the frenulum to a steady rhythm, finger-blast the G-spot hard, press a vibrator into the perineum. This type of advice is largely well-intentioned, but I think it misses the point: Being good in bed is more about your approach than your technique.

There are exceptions, of course. Sex professionals, for instance, tend to have better technique than many laypeople (pun not intended) – so I’d expect that the beauties at the Discreet Elite VIP escort agency have better blowjob skills than your average cocksucker, and pro dom(me)s are more skilled at flogging than your average kinkster. Often these people are being sought out for their skills specifically (among other things), so it makes sense that they’d have to hone their technique.

But I think, for the average person, it’s better to have a good approach to sex (which, naturally, a lot of sex professionals also have!). By that I mean: Do you pay attention to partners’ verbal and non-verbal cues in figuring out what’s working or not working during sex? Do you ask questions or invite feedback as needed, if you’re having trouble making someone feel good? Do you co-create an environment where you both(/all) feel safe to communicate openly and honestly? Do you have good psychological tools for handling difficult feelings that may come up when someone gives you constructive sexual feedback, and can you implement those tools when you need to?

I think these things matter much more than physical technique, especially since everyone likes different things in bed. Why try to navigate new territory with an old map? I think it makes more sense to learn the skills that will enable you to create new “maps” on the fly when you need to.

 

A or B?

Okay, if there’s one sexual skill you really need (aside from ascertaining consent, duh), I think this is it. Some sex educators call it the “optometrist” approach, because – like an optometrist during an eye exam – you’re going to ask your partner, “Does this work better for you, or this?”

Try it with anything; just remember to phrase it as an “either/or” question, because those are often easiest for people to answer in the heat of the moment. “Do you want it harder or softer?” “Faster or slower?” “Deeper or shallower?”

While actual verbal feedback can be super helpful, especially with a newer partner, you can also use this technique silently in your own mind to try stuff out and discover what works best. Try licking softer, and then harder, and see which gets a bigger reaction. Thrust a little deeper, then a little shallower, and stick with whichever one seems most appreciated. This might sound simple and self-explanatory, but it’s amazing how many people get so wrapped up in their own nervousness (or pleasure) during sex that they forget to pay full attention to their partner, thereby missing crucial cues that could help them get better at fucking that particular person.

 

Compassion is king

Sex is a very, very personal thing for many of us. One’s sexuality can feel core to one’s identity – so judgments on one’s sexuality can feel like judgments on one’s very existence. Those judgments, and the feelings of shame they provoke, can stay with you for months. For years. For a lifetime, in some cases.

With that in mind, I think it’s really important to foreground compassion in all of the sex we have. That doesn’t mean you have to let people steamroll your boundaries, but it does mean you should tread carefully so as not to step on any emotional landmines. Never make critical comments about someone’s body during sex, unless they’ve explicitly asked you to do so. Never laugh maliciously at a partner during sex; strive to only laugh with them, about things you both find funny or silly. If you have to criticize someone’s technique, focus moreso on “Here’s what I prefer” than on “You’re doing it wrong,” because – as ever – they’re not actually doing it wrong, they’re just not doing it the way you like it (yet).

I strongly believe that part of being good in bed is knowing how to create a safe environment for pleasure. No one can fully lean into their pleasure in your presence if they feel it’s unsafe to do so. One way to establish that safety, and to build that trust over time, is to make compassion the baseline ethic with which you approach sex. And I don’t just mean for romantic partners, either – even casual or short-lived hookups deserve the dignity of your respect and compassion. And I’d hope it would go without saying, but incase it doesn’t: You deserve partners who treat you that way too, and it’s completely fine to keep looking until you find one.

 

I’ve only been sexually active for 16 years or so; I’m sure my views on this will change even more as I grow older, and they’ve already undergone many transformations. But at this moment in time, these are the main things that I think make someone “good in bed.” Approach is everything, in my view, because a good approach helps you find the right technique(s) for the person you’re sleeping with, and helps you make them comfortable enough that they can enjoy your technique(s). How does that old saying go? “Give a man a fuck, and you satisfy him for a day. Teach a man to fuck, and he’ll satisfy his partners for a lifetime.” Something like that.

What do you think makes someone good in bed? Sound off in the comments; I wanna know!

 

This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

3 Tips for Newbie Femdoms

Kate Sloan

I’m certainly no expert at domination, being a mostly-submissive switch – but I’ve done more domming in the last few years than I’d done in my entire life before that, and so I’ve gotten a lot better at it.

I think being a “femdom” – loosely defined here as a dominant who is female (cis or trans) and/or femme – involves some complexity that isn’t always there for male and masc doms. For one thing, male dominance paired with female submission is the most common heterosexual view of what a D/s dynamic should be (this effect was highlighted in a recent Natalie Wynn video, where she referred to it as “default heterosexual sadomasochism”). As a result, feminine dominants can be seen as disrupting the sexual status quo – because they are! – and may struggle with shame or other difficult feelings around that, whether those judgments are internalized and self-inflicted, or based moreso on feedback you’re getting from the outside world.

Femdom dating sites can help with this to some extent, but it’s hard to unlearn deeply ingrained societal narratives. For this reason and many others, exploring your dommy side as a woman or feminine-leaning person can be intimidating – but here are some tricks I’ve learned that help.

 

1. Create your own persona

Another hurdle facing femdoms is that there’s still not as much variety as one would hope in media depictions of feminine dominance. For a long time, I thought I couldn’t possibly be a femdom, because every professional dominatrix I knew was hyper-confident (at least externally), wielded a whip or paddle with panache, and looked dynamite in black leather. I didn’t feel like I fit the mold, and I only started feeling comfortable in my dominance once I cobbled together my own femdom persona from other sources.

When you picture yourself feeling powerful, hot, and in control, what are you wearing? How are you speaking to people? How do you walk and gesture and move? These are good starting points for building a persona, which will hopefully feel like accessing a new facet of yourself, rather than like playing a character (although it may take you some practice and time to get there).

 

2. Tap into what you really, really want

Despite having had sexual desires and fantasies for as long as I can remember, it can be hard for me to actually pursue those desires. As a submissive with people-pleaser tendencies, I’ll often default to asking what the other person wants, or I’ll just give them what I think they want. While this isn’t the most empowering or satisfying way to submit to someone (IMO), it can definitely be done, even for the course of an entire relationship, and an unattuned dom might not even notice you’re doing it.

On the flipside, when you’re in a dominant role, your desires are central (or at least, they’ll usually appear to be, within the narrative of the scene). It sucks to fall into the trap of asking each other over and over, “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” so it’s important to figure out what actually turns you on and makes you happy, and then get comfortable asking for that.

I’ll often ask my partner, before a scene, if I can take a minute to just think and feel. I’ll close my eyes and pay attention to the places in my body that are craving touch, or the fantasies that come up in my mind’s eye. Or I’ll think through some possibilities and see which one creates a visceral response in my body. (This is also incidentally how I decide what I want for dinner, lol!) The more that I practice this, the easier it gets.

I’d also recommend keeping a record of the fantasies that arise for you during masturbation, or any porn clips or erotica stories you stumble across that get you especially turned on. I always appreciate having this type of list to pull from, when I want to do a scene with my partner but am feeling uninspired.

 

3. Delegate

This one depends on your sub and what they’re into, but I’ve found it soooo helpful to delegate certain tasks to my partner which enable me to be a better domme, especially since I have energy limitations due to my fibromyalgia. These tasks include stuff like:

  • Putting together a curated list of porn clips for us to watch together before sex/a scene, so I don’t have to run the whole arousal-building process myself for both of us
  • Keeping an ongoing list, in a shared digital note, of their fantasies and wishes, etc. that I can pull from as needed
  • Handling certain household tasks for me (or making/sending me dinner), so I have more time/energy to plan scenes and build my own desire level
  • Self-monitoring their adherence to our protocols, using an app like Streaks, so that I can confirm that they’ve done the tasks I assigned them, without needing to proactively enforce all the rules myself

 

I think it’s really important, overall, to understand that dominance looks different for everyone, and so does submission. Each D/s dynamic is unique and should be customized to the individuals within it. You don’t have to hold yourself to unreasonable standards, and your partner(s) shouldn’t, either. Find your way of being dominant, little by little, through trial and error, and you’ll build up those muscles (figuratively and perhaps literally!).

Fellow femdoms of all stripes, what other tips do you wish you’d gotten when you started?

 

This post contains sponsored links. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.