Roleplay and Rapport at the Library Bar

Kate Sloan

Maybe I shouldn’t have arrived so early. Why do I always do this? I glance over my shoulder at the door again. Maybe he’ll show up in five minutes. Maybe he’ll show up now.

I always get nervous before interviews, even though I’ve been doing the whole professional-sex-journalist thing for going-on-7 years now. It’s just stagefright, harmless jitters, but it happens like clockwork. It’s why I rolled up to the Library Bar 10 minutes early. It’s why I keep sneaking peeks at the door.

Is that him? He’s wearing a dark button-down shirt. He’s looking my way. He’s smiling and waving. (He is my partner.) He’s coming over to sit next to me. (He is my partner.) He’s shaking my hand and saying, “Hi, I’m Matt.” (I know who he is. He is my partner.)

Let me back up for a second. Months ago, when discussing potential roleplay scenarios, my boyfriend and I struck upon the idea of a journalist/source roleplay. I am a journalist, after all, and he is a semi-frequent media interviewee, being a tech fancyboy in New York, so we’re already comfortable in these roles.

Initially we envisioned it as a scene of strategic outsmarting, psychological manipulation, me trying to get info out of him for an investigative exposé and him trying to keep me at arm’s length. But the more we thought about it and discussed it, the more we wanted it to be a different type of scene entirely. We still wanted to play ourselves – me, a reporter; him, a tech CEO – but our focus shifted more toward the flirtation and chemistry that could naturally develop during an interview.

Storytelling dynamo Claire AH has talked often about how roleplay – which she calls “sexy improv” – can be an opportunity to explore ways you and your partner didn’t meet, but could’ve. She sometimes envisions, for example, having met her musician husband by being a groupie of his band, rather than on OkCupid. I love this idea, and how it allows you to re-access a state of charged unfamiliarity with your partner, flirting in double entendres and meaningful glances in ways you can’t do as readily when you’ve been dating for months or years.

Having defined our goals for the scene, BF and I started emailing back and forth, the way we would if we were actually setting up an interview with a stranger. My character needed to speak to an app developer for a story – and his character, it so happened, would be in Toronto for a “conference” soon. We settled on a day, time, and location. I started prepping my questions. It all began feeling very real.

Back to the Library Bar. “Hi, I’m Matt,” this ridiculously handsome man says, grabbing my hand in a firm, CEO-appropriate handshake. “I’m Kate,” I reply. “Nice to finally meet you!”

He sits down next to me at the bar. (Was the bar the right spot to choose? Is it more professional to sit opposite a source, at a table?) He asks me what I’m drinking. (A Bulleit bourbon on the rocks. One of my fave orders when I’m trying to impress a dude who probably knows more than me about such things.) He orders an old fashioned. We small-talk about how he’s enjoying Toronto, what he’s been up to, what he thinks of his hotel.

Then he asks me what my piece is about, and I brighten. “So… It’s for Playboy. Ever heard of it?”

He laughs. “I only read it for the articles.”

“Well, great, ’cause I’m writing one of those articles! It’s about how I think nerds are better in bed.” I watch his eyes widen. We didn’t discuss this in our pre-interview emails. Sometimes I prefer to take sources by surprise. “I spoke to a web dev; I spoke to a game dev; I needed to speak to an app dev. So, thanks for agreeing to talk to me!” He is immediately on board, engaged and listening hard. I flip open my notebook to my list of questions. I begin.

“Do you think nerds are, on average, better in bed?” “Which subsets of the tech community do you think would be especially sexually skilled?” “What sexual acts do you think programmers would tend to be good at?”

His answers are measured, thoughtful, yet enthusiastic and off-the-cuff. He posits theories, tells stories from his own life, and cites thinkers he admires, like Michael Lopp and Evie Lupine. His blue eyes flash with intelligence and wit. Occasionally, when I ask him something, he gives me this pure-of-heart little smirk and says, “Good question!” I wonder if he can see how much it melts me when he compliments my competence, even though I’m a grown-ass journalist who knows her shit and knows her worth.

The thing about being a sex writer is, there will be opportunities for interviews to get flirty. In 99% of cases, I neither want this outcome nor think it’s smart to pursue it; it’s unprofessional, usually unwanted (by one or both parties), skews the story, and can get messy.

But this app mogul on the barstool next to me is… very cute. And he has been essentially selling himself to me as a promising hookup for the past hour. And he keeps reaching out to gently shove my shoulder to make a point, or holding my gaze a little too long while describing skilful fingerbanging. At one point he loses his train of thought mid-sentence and says, “Sorry, that dress is just… really good.” It’s a new one, vintage Betsey Johnson. “It’s kind of a ‘professional reporter lady’ dress,” I say, blushing, and he shoots back, “More like a ‘turning on a source’ dress. Wow.” I laugh and hide my warm face behind one shy hand.

I’ve asked all my questions, taken all my notes, and closed my notebook. “Want to get another drink, now that you’re off the clock?” he offers, so easily, and we order two more cocktails from the busy bartender. Flipping the script, this articulate interviewee asks me about my work – what I like about it, what I don’t – and I mention, in passing, that it can get complicated when a source wants to fuck me and I’m not into it. Or when I want to fuck a source, but my editor isn’t into it. “So is this the type of assignment where you might sleep with a source, or no?” he asks innocently, and I practically choke on my drink.

As the alcohol plies us further, we get to talking about FetLife: neither of us use it much, and he knows some nerds who are trying to build a better alternative. “What’s on your fetishes list?” he wonders, and I wrack my brain for the answer least likely to freak out this near-stranger. “Uhh, spanking?” I try, and he bites his lip like a sadistic Cheshire cat. “I actually have some impact implements up in my hotel room,” he mentions, so casually, and that room is now the only place I want to be.

He offers me a sip of his martini. “Ooh, that’s a daddy drink,” I say when I try it. “What does that mean?!” he asks with a quizzical smile. “Oh, you know, like something a daddy would drink.” I hide behind my glass when he intuits effortlessly, “Oh, so you’re into DD/lg, then.”

He’s getting closer and closer to me, as we’re getting tipsier and flirtier and farther off the path of our initial conversation. He’s got his arm draped over the back of my chair, and is gazing into my eyes like nobody else in this crowded bar exists. I lose my words, lose my breath. “Kiss me,” he says, out of nowhere, and I do, because I need to.

At some point we decide that yes, I will go up to his room with him – and I will disclose this key information to my editor when I file the story. We settle up and amble to the elevator. Inside, he pushes me against a wall and kisses me, like he’s wanted to do that ever since he first saw me from across the bar.

If you’re interested in trying a roleplay like this – in person, out in public, pretending not to know each other – here are some tips I took away from our first attempt that I think might be useful to you too:

• Define your intentions. As with any kink endeavor, it’s good to make sure you and your partner are hoping to get something similar out of the scene, or at least that your hopes for the scene are compatible. My partner and I are both into flirting, and knowing that that was the primary intention of our roleplay allowed us to focus on that aspect fully and enjoy it even more.

• Set the stage. Whatever the scenario you choose for your roleplay – meeting someone new at a bar; striking up a convo with the stranger beside you at the theatre; going on a first Tinder date – prepare for that situation however you normally would. It’ll help get you into the appropriate headspace. For this roleplay, for example, my partner and I exchanged businessy emails weeks beforehand, and I prepped and researched just as I would for an actual interview.

• Dress the part. Clothes and other self-presentation details can help you get into character, even if your “character” is just an alternate-universe version of yourself. This can be especially helpful if you and your partner hang out earlier in the day and then go do a roleplay; my partner changed his shirt before our interview, for example, and it was a small thing that nonetheless made him feel like a slightly different person to me. You can also change stuff like your perfume, jewelry, and hairstyle, to set your character apart from your regular self.

• Do something, dammit. Decide on a concrete task or interaction that the roleplay will center around; don’t just show up at the location and stand around awkwardly. Our roleplay hinged on an interview, and I did an actual interview, because I knew it would make me less nervous and would lend some purpose and direction to the scene. Even if your roleplay is pretty straightforward, like a chance meeting with a cute stranger at a bar, have some idea of what you want to do: bring a book to read, or have a specific drink you want to try, or a specific occasion your character is celebrating, or something.

• Commit to the scene. The #1 question I got from my Twitter followers about this roleplay was essentially, “How do you stay in character?” and the answer is… just decide to stay in character. As with dirty talk – not to mention improv, which roleplay essentially is! – you will actually seem (and feel) sillier if you half-ass it. Hopefully your partner is someone you trust not to laugh at you for wholeheartedly throwing yourself into the scene – because if that’s all they want to do, why do the roleplay at all?!

• Making mistakes is okay. A few times during our roleplay, my partner and I accidentally referenced some of our real-life inside jokes, or responded to things how we ourselves – but not our “characters” – would respond. Slip-ups are bound to happen, especially if you’re not accustomed to this type of improvisation. That’s fine. There is nothing wrong with laughing for a moment at the mistake you’ve made and then moving on with the scene. The entire narrative doesn’t have to fall apart just because you screwed up for a second.

• Debrief and discuss afterward. You should do this when you try any new kink activity. Talk about what went wrong, what went right, what you want more of in the future, and what you want less of. Talk about what was hot, what felt weird, what surprised you. My partner and I have already figured out some other roleplay scenarios we want to try in public, having learned more about our desires and fantasies from this first one. This experience has opened up a whole new avenue of play for us, and we can only continue further down this path because we’ve thoroughly compared notes about this first scene.

Have you ever done a roleplay like this before? Would you like to?

5 Features I Wish All Dating Apps Had

Kate Sloan

Dating apps are exhausting. As App Store searches and online reviews here will attest, there are soooo many of them – a surprising amount of which are more gimmicky than functional.

I’m dating an app developer, so I could just complain to him about all this. But I’m a blogger, so you get to hear about it too. (You’re welcome…?!) Here are 5 features most dating apps don’t have, which all of them should…

Actually useful filters. There was a time in OkCupid’s history when you could set certain answers to certain compatibility questions as “mandatory” for your potential matches, and the site would hide people from you who didn’t answer the way you wanted them to.

This feature could be used to swiftly expunge from your dating queue anyone who – for example – held racist/sexist/homophobic beliefs, felt differently from you about eventual marriage or procreation, or even just… didn’t like giving oral sex. (Hey, we all get to decide what’s important to us in a potential partner!)

Many of the site’s filtering features are now reserved for paid users, and it’s a real shame. I don’t want it to even be possible for me to accidentally strike up a conversation on OkCupid with a Trump supporter, a selfish lover, or someone who thinks women are morally obligated to shave their legs. I should be able to erase them all from my world in one fell swoop.

Comprehensive blocking. Internet safety has become a bigger and bigger issue as the online world has interlaced with the “real world” more and more – and yet many social networks and apps still don’t take it seriously enough.

Tinder, for example, lets you block someone you’ve already matched with, but doesn’t let you block people who just come up in your swipe queue – which is a problem if, for example, you spot your abusive ex on the app, or someone makes multiple creepy accounts in an attempt to contact you, or you just keep running into the same douchebag over and over.

If a dating app values safety – especially the safety of its most vulnerable and marginalized users – it should provide a blocking feature which works, completely and immediately, no questions asked, and which can be used on anyone you encounter in the app, not just people you’ve matched or messaged with.

First-message length minimums. One-word messages are an epidemic on dating apps. “Hi.” “Hey.” “Sup.” Frankly, I think that if you only want to put that much effort into dating, you’d be better off posting on Facebook to solicit dates with former high-school classmates, or trotting down to the local bar and shouting “Anyone interested?!”

OkTrends, OkCupid’s now-defunct blog of dating-based statistical analysis, found that the ideal first message length is 200 characters – so, about the length of a tweet, but like, a substantial, thought-out tweet that you didn’t dash off in five seconds.

Granted, not everyone’s attractions work how mine do, but if it were up to me, I would instate an 100-character minimum on first messages in every dating app. Read your potential match’s profile and find something to comment on or inquire about; if you can’t do that, then why are you even interested?

Organization tools. Okay, not to sound like a total slut or a total nerd (I’d rather be equal parts of both), but sometimes I wish my Tinder inbox had folders.

Kind of like how I have one Airbnb wishlist for far-away destinations and one for weekend getaway spots, I need a Tinder folder for “potential relationship material,” one for “could be a fun hookup,” and one for “you already went out with this person and it didn’t go well – beware.” And that’s just for starters.

If it sounds like I’m reducing people to their objectlike utility, well, I probably am – there’s a reason the phrase “meat market” persists, despite our better intentions – but I also think the ability to sort matches would help cultivate more actual, IRL connections. Part of the reason I so often forget to message people is that by the time I’m in the mood to reach out to someone, the cuties I was most excited about have often been pushed down in the queue by more incoming matches. If I could find the most promising among them, quickly, whenever the mood struck, I’d be likelier to actually make contact.

Activity-based statuses. Tinder had the right idea with their “Matches Up For…” feature, which allowed users to mark themselves as “up for” drinks, coffee, and a few other boilerplate date activities. But what dating apps really need is a blank field where you can type whatever you’re up for.

True, this feature would be abused immediately, by people who don’t understand that nonconsensually showering strangers in dicks is a dick move, even in text form. But just imagine how good it would be if it worked. “Up for… seeing the Harry Potter improv show at Comedy Bar tonight.” “Up for… a marathon viewing of The L Word over Chinese delivery.” “Up for… co-working at a coffee shop, with intermittent flirty eye contact.” Being able to articulate whatever weird datelike activity you’re craving, and maybe actually find someone who wants to do the same thing, would be blissful.

This feature would, of course, be useful for sexxxy purposes too. While there are lots of times I’ve just craved sex, it’s far more common that I crave a specific sexual act. “Up for… a thorough paddling from an experienced, sadistic dom.” “Up for… no-reciprocation-expected cunnilingus.” “Up for… a handjob while listening to Vivaldi.” Some apps go to great lengths to determine your sexual compatibility with potential matches, but I think knowing what someone wants to do in bed right now might give you an even better window into their sexuality than their answers to prefabricated questions, which they may have answered months or years ago anyway!

What features do you wish all dating apps had?

 

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

Sextistics: An End-of-Year Sexual Stats Breakdown (2018)

Kate Sloan

Happy new year, friends! I hope your New Year’s Eve was lovely and that your 2019 brings exciting experiences, sweet comforts, big laughs, and as much (or as little) sex as you would like.

As you probably already know if you’ve been following me for a while, I keep a sex spreadsheet. It’s nerdy, yes – but it’s also endlessly useful for me as a sex writer, when I need to refer back to the facts of an encounter I’m writing about. Not to mention, it helps me reflect on what works and doesn’t work for me sexually, so I can make better decisions for myself going forward.

Lots of folks have been inquiring about my spreadsheet lately in my email and DMs, as it’s the time of year to start on such things if you are inclined to – so here’s all I’ve written about it so far in one handy-dandy list:

  • My original blog post about it explains some reasons you might want to keep a sex spreadsheet, and gives some tips for making your own.
  • Last year I wrote a piece for Glamour about it, too, which goes into detail about what I learned from my 2017 spreadsheet and what I planned to change about my sex life going forward.
  • Here’s a Twitter thread in which I talk about not only my sex spreadsheet but also the spreadsheets I kept of my orgasms and first dates in 2017. There are screenshots!
  • Here’s my Sextistics post from last year, where I listed a bunch of stats and findings from my 2017 spreadsheets.
  • Incase you need it, here’s a blank template of my spreadsheet which you can adapt for your own purposes. But honestly, I think building one for your exact needs is part of the geeky joy of this endeavor!

Okay, now that you know why and how I keep sex stats, let’s get into the stats themselves! Time to crunch some numbers…

Overview

  • In 2018, I had partnered sex 147 times. That works out to an average of 12.25 times per month, 2.83 times per week, and 0.40 per day. (This is particularly wild if you know that 92.52% of the sex I had this year was with my long-distance partner, who I only see for a few days each month.)
  • I had 144 orgasms from partnered sex.
  • Meanwhile, my partners had a total of 154 orgasms during sex with me. (Look, I’m not saying my blowjobs are legendary, but…)
  • An incomplete list, in alphabetical order, of the kink activities I incorporated into partnered sex this year: biting, bondage, bootblacking, choking/gagging, DD/lg roleplay, electrostimulation, face-slapping, facials, fisting (attempted), gloryholes, human furniture play, hypnosis, intoxication, kicking, knife play, medical roleplay, pegging, punching, sadomasochism, scratching, sensory deprivation, spanking, squirting, tickling, trampling, watersports, wax play.

Compared to Last Year…

  • I had 79.26% more sex.
  • I had an orgasm in 97.96% of the sex I had, versus 93.90% last year.
  • I had 76.92% fewer partners!

Partners

  • I had a total of 3 sexual partners this year: my current boyfriend, a former romantic partner, and a friend with benefits. This is a pretty significant drop from previous years (13 in 2017, 12 in 2016). Just wasn’t feelin’ slutty this year, I guess.
  • One of those partners (33.33%) was a new addition this year, bringing my total number of lifetime partners up to 30 (that’s a 3.45% increase from this time last year).
  • I met one of those partners on Twitter, one via a podcast interview, and one at our former mutual workplace – all in 2017.
  • The percentage of times each partner gave me an orgasm range from 50.00% to 101.47%. Predictably, since comfort and familiarity are important factors in my sexual enjoyment, the more sex I had with a person this year, the higher their frequency of giving me orgasms became.
  • My partners this year were, on average, 7 years older than me (up from 5.6 years older last year) – though, notably, the person I had the most sex with and who gave me the most orgasms is only 1.33 years older than me.
  • 66.67% of my partners this year were cis men and the other 33.33% was a non-binary person.
  • Astrologically speaking (!), 66.67% of my partners this year were fellow earth signs (one Taurus, one Capricorn). The third was a Scorpio.

Locations

  • I had sex in a total of 12 different locations this year.
  • These included: my place, my parents’ place (once!), a partner’s place, a sex club, and 8 different hotels (5 in New York, 1 in Alexandria, 1 in Boston, 1 in Toronto).
  • The locations likeliest to facilitate orgasm for me were: the Standard High Line hotel in New York (150.00%), the Ace Hotel in New York (116.67%), the Godfrey Hotel in Boston (114.29%), my own home (106.17%), and the Hilton Mark Center hotel in Alexandria (100.00%).
  • The locations least likely to facilitate orgasm for me were: a sex club (50.00%) and a former partner’s place (50.00%).

Highs and Lows

  • My most sexually active month was December (33 times), because I was able to spend more time than ever with my long-distance partner (a week in Toronto, a long weekend in New York). We’re still not quite sure how we fit 33 sex sessions into 11 days together, but okay.
  • My least sexually active month was February (6 times) because it was one of my shortest visits with my partner.
  • I had the most partnered orgasms in December (31) and the fewest in January and February (6 each). This just makes sense, given that people get better at getting me off the better they know me and my body.
  • The highest number of times I had sex in one day was 5, because, uh, sometimes my partner and I go a bit overboard when we haven’t seen each other in a while and finally get to be together. Hilariously, the day that this happened was 4/20, but we weren’t even high!
  • The most orgasms I had in a partnered sex session was 2 (this happened 10 times throughout the year – yay), which might not seem like a lot for some of you, but is pretty impressive for my relatively mono-orgasmic body.

Correlations

  • The sex acts most highly correlated with orgasm for me were using a vibe on my clit while a partner fingerbanged me (56 times), using a vibe on my clit while a partner fucked me with a dildo (53), and receiving oral sex while being fingerbanged (24).
  • Less common ways I got off were using my fingers on my clit while a partner fingerbanged me (9 times) and using my fingers on my clit while a partner’s dick was inside me (only once this year!).
  • Common reasons I didn’t come at all (which happened 13 times) were: I was sick/tired, the location of the encounter made me feel self-conscious or uncomfortable, or I was more focused on getting my partner off.
  • I’ve noticed connections between my income and my sexual activity in previous years. This year, my highest-income month was indeed also my most sexually active month (December), and one of my lowest-income months was also one of my fewest-orgasms months (October), which suggests to me that perhaps financial anxiety inhibits pleasure, and financial security makes good sex more accessible to me, both physically/logistically (airfare and hotels are expensive!) and emotionally/mentally.

Toys

  • My most-used vibrators with partners were the Magic Wand Rechargeable (46 times), Doxy #3 (30), We-Vibe Tango (21), and Eroscillator (20). What these all have in common is that they’re rumbly and can reliably get me off (although the Doxy #3 has tons of mechanical problems so the word “reliable” is a bit of a stretch).
  • My most-used dildos with partners were the Njoy Eleven (18 times), Fucking Sculptures Corkscrew (18), Fucking Sculptures Double Trouble (13), and Vixen Creations Randy (2). Using dildos with partners was a less frequent occurrence for me this year than it often has been, likely because I was fucking people who are highly skilled with their fingers.
  • My most-used impact implements with partners were my Weal & Breech purpleheart truncheon (7 times), Kronic Sensations wooden bat (4), Weal & Breech purpleheart paddle (4), Viktoria Creations leather bat (4), and Weal & Breech purpleheart mallet (3).
  • Frequently-used toys in other categories were my under-the-bed restraints (7 times), Aslan Leather harness paired with Godemiche Ambit for pegging (7), a blindfold (4), and the Neon Wand (3).

Did you keep a sex spreadsheet this year? Do you plan to try it out in 2019?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2018: 1 Fantastic Toy Company

Kate Sloan

Every December, I choose and highlight one company whose products tangibly improved my year, and that I think all my readers need to know about. Usually it’s a tricky decision, but the astute among you could probably already guess what company I chose, because I’ve been harping on about them all year long: Weal & Breech and L’Amour-Propre.

“But Kate!” you might be saying. “That’s two companies!” Yes, technically. But they’re run by the same duo, Josh and Tal, both excellent humans who make kinky trinkets here in my hometown of Toronto. And frankly, I couldn’t pick just one!

L’Amour-Propre deals primarily in acrylic pins and suede collars, each of which I have several of. My first item from them was a turquoise suede collar, bought basically as a fashion accessory late last year. However, as my relationship with my then-new partner developed, more and more products by this delightful little company became important in the story of our ~looove~. My darlin’ bought me a “Pun Slut” pin, for example, because he understands my soul. And when we decided we both wanted him to collar me, this royal blue suede collar was the only option we ever seriously considered. I still vividly remember the way he stared at me in the NoMad dining room as we discussed our collaring plans – like he couldn’t wait to wrap that suede around my neck and own me.

That collar was beautiful and served us well. But we were even more thrilled when, a few months later, we inquired about a custom upgrade because the suede wasn’t quite holding up to the sweaty wear-and-tear we’d put it through. Tal sought out a gorgeous blue leather at our request, and made a new collar for me that has thus far proved much hardier. We greatly appreciated Tal’s willingness to make our dream collar a reality.

Another fave kinky accessory of mine comes from L’Amour-Propre too: a heart-shaped lock we had engraved with the word “Daddy’s.” I wear mine on a chain around my neck to occasions where my regular collar might look out of place or not quite fancy enough. I adore it.

As a side note: Tal also does custom-engraved pins, which are ideal if you’re going to an event and want to clearly telegraph your name, Twitter handle, pronouns, or any other crucial information. And their new leather bookmarks are a kinky bookworm’s dream.

Weal & Breech, meanwhile, makes impact toys more gorgeous than any I have ever seen. I’ve collected several of their products over the two years they’ve been in business: a sturdy and stingy paddle, a sensually smooth truncheon, and a terrifying pair of nipple clamps. All of mine are made of purpleheart wood, because I enjoy the matchy-ness of that, and because it’s visually stunning.

Most recently, though, my partner reached out to W&B’s founder Josh to inquire about an anniversary gift for me. The company had recently Instagrammed prototypes of a hefty new mallet they had in the works, and both my BF and I had drooled over ’em and wanted one real bad. My partner asked if Josh could make one for me, and Josh – who I think of as the Ollivander of impact toys – knew, of course, that it should be made of purpleheart to match my other pieces. The final, perfect touch is a wrist strap made of the same blue leather as my collar – another thing my partner didn’t even have to request. Josh and Tal are sweetheart-geniuses. My mallet is unimaginably beautiful, and easily the thuddiest impact toy I own. Swoooon!

What was your favorite sex toy company of the year?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2018: 2 Fears Defeated

Kate Sloan

I’ve conquered a lot of fears in the past few years, or at least attempted to. Hell, life with an anxiety disorder is basically just a long process of battling fears, like walking through a brambly underbrush with a machete in each hand. In 2015 I upped my blowjob game and delved into threesomes; in 2016 I fucked on camera and navigated casual sex; and last year I explored polyamory more deeply and got better at tactful rejection. That’s a whole lotta scary things, and I’m proud of myself!

Here are two things I’d previously feared, that I managed to face head-on in 2018…

Long-distance relationships

I swore, when I was younger, that I would never fuck with an LDR. “I need a lot of attention and physical affection,” I reasoned, “and that just isn’t practical if the person lives far away.” What I had neglected to plan for, however, is that sometimes you fall in love with a geographically distant person even if you had planned not to – and that distance does not have to preclude the exchange of attention and affection.

Knowing full well about the hurdles long-distance couples face, my partner and I approached our relationship with thoughtfulness and intentionality. We built systems and routines that helped bolster our burgeoning intimacy: good-morning texts, near-nightly phone conversations, FaceTime calls whenever convenient, selfies and tweets and emails. We crafted a sex life from sexting and phone sex (more on that in a sec) that feels as real, enjoyable, and important to me as any in-person sexual connection I’ve ever had. We made it clear to each other, day by day by day, that we are committed to making this relationship work and making it last. We look for new ways to do that all the time.

We’re also deeply privileged to live not terribly far from each other – a 90-minute flight or an ~11-hour bus ride – and to be able to afford to see each other about once a month. It’s funny: when we first started dating, we agreed that 2 months was about the maximum amount of time we’d ever want to go without seeing each other, but we’ve never actually waited that long. The longest we’ve spent apart at a time is about 5 weeks, but we average around 3 weeks between each visit. Sometimes it’s hard, but it’s always doable.

Ultimately I’ve come to realize that long-distance relationships – if they’re as conscientiously intimate as this one – may actually be better suited to how my brain works than local ones, in some ways. I’m an easily-overwhelmed introvert, so being able to talk to my partner while pajama-clad in my bed at the end of the day is often preferable to, say, going out for drinks or schlepping my stuff to someone’s house in the cold. When a local partner is too busy to see me for a while, my anxious brain takes it as a personal affront – but somehow it still feels like a treat every time my long-distance partner spends time with me over the phone. Our in-person visits give me something to look forward to, like a life preserver to cling onto when I feel depressed, and also give me motivation to deep-clean my room at least once a month. It’s pretty ideal, actually.

I’m not saying long-distance relationships are something I’ll continue to look for in the future – it’s my hope that they’ll be a rare exception in my life, rather than a commonplace thing – but I’m not nearly as put off by the prospect of them as I used to be. And that’s nice, because it means more opportunities for love, sex, kink, and joy are open to me now, all around the world.

Phone sex

Another thing I thought I’d never like! Weird.

When I was a teen, my beloved friend-with-benefits would sometimes call me up and read erotic Harry Potter fanfiction to me over the phone. If I got turned on enough, occasionally I would touch myself while she breathed these fanciful words into my ear. I liked listening to her struggle to get through each sentence while straining to hear the changes in my breathing, the slide of skin against wet skin.

That was my only experience resembling phone sex, until about 9 years later, when a prospective sugar daddy emailed me asking if he could pay me for the pleasure of my company over the phone. The price was right and he was charming as hell, so we fell into a pay-to-play arrangement that culminated in a couple nights of him whispering filthy things to me while I moaned and purred and held a vibe on my clit.

I had always imagined that phone sex would require an equal give-and-take, a 50:50 exchange of dirty words and ideas back and forth, and indeed, I’m sure that this is how it works for many people. But I am a bottom, and a sub, and I go pretty nonverbal when subspace kicks in, so I knew I wouldn’t be well-suited to talk someone to orgasm. What I had overlooked, though, is that lots of tops and doms prefer to be the person driving the action, not only in person but over the phone too. That’s what my sugar daddy was into, and when I started dating my current boyfriend, I discovered that he was into it, too. He calls himself a “phone-sex top”: someone who says most of the shit and is more than happy to do so. It’s my reactions he gets off on: my moans, my squeals, my subspacily slurred responses to his questions. In this regard (and several others), we are perfectly well-matched.

It’s funny how I went from abhorring the idea of phone sex to it being easily 80% (or more) of my sex life this year. It’s a near-daily routine for us now, and as such, we’ve developed our own patterns, techniques, tropes and styles within our phone play, which you can read about in the interview series we did about it. Just like in-person sex with a consistent partner, our phone sex gets better and better the more that we learn about each other, and strives for a balance between reliable old favorites and exciting new explorations. It makes me so happy and doesn’t feel, at all, like a consolation prize for the “real thing.” Phone sex with my partner is real, deep, romantic, exciting, and a wonderful comfort.

What fears did you overcome this year?