4 hours ago
11
Joe, 35
Once I really trusted Matt, I started to enjoy being more dominant
Matt was the first person I’d dated who wasn’t gay. He told me early on that although he’d mainly had relationships with men, he had slept with as many women as men. I worried he wouldn’t feel fulfilled by me, that he would miss having sex with women, which I now know is the worst thing you can say to a bisexual person because it suggests they are less capable of monogamy. I was projecting my own insecurities on to his sexuality.
There is a seven-year age gap between us, but if anything Matt is more mature than me. Outside the bedroom he’s the decisive alpha, so I like it when that dynamic flips during sex. I used to find control in submission. There’s a stigma about being a “bottom” – that it means giving up power – but really you’re still setting the terms. And once I really trusted Matt, I started to enjoy being more dominant. Sometimes when we’re having sex, I almost leave my body.
My relationship history is pretty terrible. My first long-term boyfriend cheated on me and made cruel comments about my body. When I confronted him, he said: “Why would I want to have sex with you? You have a tiny dick.” I didn’t realise how guarded I had been until I met Matt. I still have body image issues, but Matt often tells me how much he fancies me. I have never felt more attractive.
Matt doesn’t have physical insecurities, but he feels rejected when I’m busy. I have got better at reassuring him since we started couples therapy last summer. I was stressed at work, so we were only having sex about every 10 days. We spent a long time pointing fingers, but now I listen to how he feels instead of getting defensive.
It took a while for Matt to trust me enough to top him, so I didn’t during the first year, then in the second it changed. We prefer oral because it feels more intimate. But Matt would rather give than receive, which is our relationship dynamic. He’s the caretaker. Sometimes I wish he would let me take care of him more. I still feel as if I trust Matt more than he trusts me – I’m waiting for him to catch up.
Matt, 28
When Joe worried he couldn’t compare, I told him I’d be fine never sleeping with a woman again
When I met Joe on a dating app two years ago, I had an active sex life, but I was looking for a boyfriend. It seemed we were both over having sex with strangers in dark rooms. I have mostly dated men and am maybe eight or nine out of 10 gay, but my sexuality is fluid, which is hard for most people to understand. At the start, Joe struggled with the idea that I’m attracted to all genders, but I’m attracted to the person. When Joe worried he couldn’t compare, I told him I’d be fine never sleeping with a woman again.
Joe’s work can get in the way of our sex life, and his libido is lower than mine, which I sometimes take personally. Without regular sex, I start seeing signs where I shouldn’t. In the first year, I was scared he would lose interest in me. So when a second week without sex came, I would panic and initiate a conversation, but Joe, exhausted from work, struggled to have compassion. During dry spells I need reassurance, and when we do have sex again I want it to be slower, gentler, more romantic, with lots of kissing and foreplay.
We have sex more now we live together, maybe three or four times a week. We go through phases – obsessed with blowjobs, then more into penetration. I need to be with someone for at least a year before I feel comfortable enough to have penetrative sex, so we took it slowly. There’s pressure to be a gay sex machine, and I would have felt like I was failing Joe if I wasn’t able to give him that. With time, trial and error, I started to enjoy it.
I’m pretty monogamous, though sometimes I wonder what it means to be with one person long-term. Although we want monogamy for the foreseeable future, we have both said: “I see myself being with you for ever, but I don’t know if I see myself having sex with only you for ever.”
