[Guest Post] Navigating Your Polycule Relationship: How to Stay Grounded in a Multi-Partner Network by Samantha Squirt

One of the reasons I steadfastly refuse to be called a “polyamory expert” is that polyamory and consensual non-monogamy are infinitely varied and everyone has their own experience. Everything I advise, suggest, and share comes from my experience and the things I’ve learned in the time I’ve been practicing polyamory.

Today’s guest post comes from Samantha Squirt (she/her) and focuses on her top tips for navigating the interconnected polycule relationship network. I think it includes some great insights! Maybe you’ll find them useful too.

Over to Sam!

Amy x

Navigating Your Polycule Relationship: How to Stay Grounded in a Multi-Partner Network by Samantha Squirt

If you’re interested in consensual non-monogamy, you have probably heard about polycules and the beautiful chaos they can be. Think of them like those fancy molecular diagrams from high school chemistry, except instead of hydrogen bonds, we’re dealing with hearts, hormones, and those moments where your partner’s partner is suddenly crying on your couch at 3 AM over her comet partner attempting to enact a One Penis Policy (OPP)

Today we’re talking about polycule relationship dynamics and how to stay emotionally grounded within multi-partner networks. 

But just like any complex network–whether it’s city streets, neural pathways, or that convoluted web of who’s dating who in your favorite TV show this week–we need to understand how to navigate these intersections without causing an emotional pile-up. And let’s be real, when you’re juggling multiple relationships, emotions can run high.

In this post, I’m going to walk you through everything you need to know about staying grounded while your love life looks like a beautiful spider web. Whether your polycule relationship network is a cozy triangle or resembles an advanced calculus problem, I’m going to help you map out these emotional territories like a pro so that your relationships can survive even the strongest of storms

So grab your favorite beverage (and maybe your calendar, because scheduling is about to become your new best friend), and let’s dig into the nitty-gritty of making a polycule work. By the end of this guide, you’ll be communicating more effectively than your therapist and loving more authentically than ever before.

What Makes The Polyam Web Wobble?

After diving into the existing research and taking into account some personal experience too, I’ve mapped out the five most common drama bombs that can shake up a polycule. Let’s break them down:

Time Management

This isn’t just about scheduling dates. We’re talking about the constant juggling act of making sure everyone feels prioritized. 

While you’re trying to maintain a career, self-care routine, and remembering to feed your pet fish, Partner A may feel like they’re getting less quality time with you than Partner B. All the while, Partner C is wondering why you still haven’t answered their texts from three days ago… 

Yeah, when it comes to managing time in a polycule, it may get messy. 

Jealousy

Let’s be real–jealousy hits different in polyamorous relationships. It’s not just about who your partner might be flirting with; you might be watching them build beautiful, meaningful connections with others while you’re sitting at home wondering if they laugh at their other partner’s jokes more than yours. 

Those who are new to polyamory often find that this isn’t the garden-variety jealousy they’re used to. This is jealousy on steroids with a PhD in Making You Question Everything.

Backburner Blues

You know when that pot of rice is done, but you still need to finish the main dish? You put it on the backburner. And that can happen to people in your polycule, too. 

Most of us have been there. “Backburning” is when you start treating your partners like they’re episodes of that show that you’ll totally get around to watching… someday. It’s when you emotionally, physically, sexually, or mentally neglect someone in the polycule while the relationship is still technically in place. This is sometimes intentional, but more often than not it happens unintentionally. 

Maybe your new relationship energy (NRE) with someone is making you neglect older connections, or perhaps you’re unconsciously creating a hierarchy that nobody agreed to. Either way, putting someone you love on the backburner is cruel and unkind, and being backburnered is uniquely painful. 

Communication Overload

Picture this: You’ve got three partners, each with two other partners, and everyone needs to discuss boundaries, feelings, and who’s bringing what to next week’s polycule potluck. Suddenly you’re spending more time processing emotions than a therapist on a Monday morning.

Communication is key to polyamory, of course, but striking the balance is important. Too much emotional processing can be overwhelming, and too little of it can lead to miscommunications and hurt feelings in your polycule. 

Resource Distribution Drama

I’m not just talking about time here. We’re also looking at emotional energy, sexual energy, money, and even simple things like how many nights you can stay over at each partner’s place.

When Sarah needs emotional support during her work crisis but Mike is going through a family crisis and Pat really just wants to watch a movie with you tonight… realistically, something’s gotta give. Unless you’ve somehow cracked the ability to be in multiple places at once and can listen to Mike process his family drama and talk Sarah through her work problems while simultaneously making out with Pat in the room next door, then you’re going to have to optimize your resource distribution. 

Navigating These Polycule Relationship Network Challenges Successfully

Here’s the tea: if you’re knowingly nodding along to any (or all) of the above, congratulations! You’re normal! These challenges aren’t signs that you’re “doing polyamory wrong”. They’re just part of the beautiful complexity that is loving multiple people openly and honestly.

In the next section, we’ll dive into strategies for tackling each of these issues head-on and discover how you can ground yourself amidst this whirlwind of emotion. 

1. Time & Resource Management: How To Always Have Time For Everyone in the Polycule

Time management in a polycule starts with open communication and a clear understanding of each person’s needs. Think of your polycule relationship network like a family, because it is!

Try mapping out a shared calendar with everyone’s work shifts, existing commitments, dates, and personal time. This helps to ensure no one gets overlooked or double-booked. Remember that quality of time matters at least as much as quantity of time, so plan meaningful activities with each partner (and as a group, if that’s something you like to do) while checking in regularly to make sure everyone feels prioritised. 

By treating time as a shared resource and staying flexible, you’ll create a balanced dynamic that makes every person feel valued and included.

One of the most important but overlooked aspects of polycule time management is… (drumroll please) scheduling time for yourself! This means time for self-care, hobbies, friends, or just to veg on the couch and watch that guilty pleasure show you love. 

If you are continually putting out fires from your lovers, inevitably you will burn out. The best thing that you can do for your polycule is to make sure you do not lose your sense of self.

2. Managing Jealousy Like a Pro

Let’s get real about jealousy, babes. In polyamory, jealousy isn’t just an occasional visitor–it’s more like that friend who crashes on your couch and keeps eating all your snacks. It’s going to show up from time to time, and it’s going to test you.

Picture this: you’re at a social gathering, feeling cute and confident, when suddenly you notice your nesting partner giving their comet partner’s ass in those perfectly fitted jeans a lingering look. Or maybe your lover wants to keep your relationship on the down-low, but they’re posting heart-eye emojis all over their other partner’s Instagram. Bam: green-eyed monster! 

Here’s the thing, jealousy and not feeling secure in polyamory isn’t a sign you’re failing. It’s just proof you’re human. Jealousy is as natural as life, death, and forgetting where you put the TV remote. Trying to pretend you don’t ever feel jealous is like trying to pretend you don’t see your partner’s throbbing hickey from someone else. You’re not fooling anyone, especially yourself.

The key is to:

  • Name it: “Why yes, that is jealousy making my eye twitch”
  • Claim it: “These are my feelings, and they’re valid”
  • Tame it: “But they don’t have to control my actions”

Jealousy is usually just the bouncer at the door of your real issues. Behind it, if you look, you might find:

  • Your self-esteem doing the limbo (and not in a fun way)
  • Your abandonment fears having a party
  • Your trust issues playing hide and seek
  • Your scarcity mindset attempting to hoard all the love
  • Your comparison anxiety making spreadsheets about who gets more attention

Whenever you feel yourself getting jealous, it’s very important to ground and bring yourself back to your centre. Jealousy can feel like a baby giraffe taking its first steps: wobbly, uncertain, and more than a little awkward. Give yourself permission to stumble and catch your balance by taking plenty of deep breaths and processing your feelings at your own pace. 

It’s okay to ask your partner(s) for reassurance (it’s not needy, it’s necessary), and remember that boundaries can shift as you learn what feels safe. When polycule jealousy appears, hit the “Pause and Process” button instead of the panic button, lean on your support system, and keep a list of self-soothing activities close at hand. Save those sweet texts your partner sent you and reread them for a quick reminder that love isn’t a finite pie and there’s enough whipped cream to go around.

Pro tip: This is where therapy becomes your best friend. A good therapist is like a tour guide through the haunted house of your emotions. They’ll help you face the scary stuff without running away screaming.

3. Don’t Allow Yourself to Be Backburnered and Don’t Backburner Others

Emotional neglect in polyamory hits different than in monogamy. It’s not just about missing a date night or forgetting to text back once in a while. It’s that slow, subtle shift where someone who used to be a main character in your love story starts feeling like an extra in the background. Worse, they may feel usurped or replaced. 

Maybe you’ve got that shiny new relationship energy (NRE) with someone else, and suddenly your established partner is eating dinner alone every night. Or perhaps you’re unconsciously prioritizing the partner who’s more “convenient,” while the long-distance love in your life is surviving on scraps of attention and occasional video calls.

Backburnering can sneak up without us even realizing it. One day you’re juggling all your relationships like a pro circus performer, the next you’re treating someone like that gym membership you keep meaning to use but never do.

Think of your polycule relationship as a carefully balanced recipe, where each partner adds their own unique flavor. A dash of Patrick, a sprinkle of Hannah, and the right amount of heat and attention, and it all comes together perfectly. If you leave one pot simmering unattended on the backburner, though, it can end up forgotten and burnt. 

By staying mindful of everyone’s needs, sharing schedules (see above,) and making time for face-to-face connection, you’ll create a dish that truly satisfies. In this kitchen of love, no one should feel like a leftover. Keep stirring the pot, tasting frequently, and you’ll find the sweet spot where all ingredients blend harmoniously.

4. Communication Overload In the Polycule

If you’ve got multiple partners and they’ve got multiple partners, that’s a lot of feelings to process and a lot of opinions weighing in on scheduling dilemmas, date nights, and where you’re going for the next group outing. Before you know it, your phone’s buzzing away like the new butt plug your partner gave you for Christmas. Then you’re juggling emotions, Google Calendars, and someone’s latest relationship epiphany all at once. 

The key to not drowning in this sea of communication? Keep it structured and intentional. 

Set up regular check-ins, whether it’s a weekly polycule meeting, a shared calendar, or even a group chat designated just for planning. Resist the urge to handle everything as soon as it pops up, and instead schedule time for heavier topics (yes, “emotional processing hour” can be a real thing). A little organization and time for strategic communication will go a long way in helping you stay grounded.

These are my top tips for navigating communication before it becomes communication overload:

  1. Create Clear Channels: Try designating different spaces for different purposes. For example, have one group chat for day-to-day chat, memes, and quick check-ins, and another (or even a shared Google Doc) for serious discussions on subjects like finances, scheduling, or relationship agreements. This way, you won’t miss crucial updates amidst the influx of photos of your metamour’s new kitten. 
  2. Set and Respect Boundaries: Just because you love everyone doesn’t mean you’re on call 24/7. If your partner texts at 3 AM about date night logistics, it’s okay to say “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.” Healthy boundaries around communication help keep you from burning out. 
  3. Schedule Family Meetings: A regular group check-in gives you a set time to tackle deeper topics instead of wading through constant back-and-forth texts. Whether it’s in person or online, this gives everyone intentional and focused time to discuss what’s working, what’s not, and anything that needs extra attention. 
  4. Prioritize Face-to-Face (or Video Call) When You Can: So much nuance can get lost in text messages. If you’re finding yourself in endless threads trying to clarify tone or discern someone’s meaning, it might be time to hop on a video call or schedule some real-time conversation. It could save hours of textual confusion.
  5. Delegate Where Possible: If you end up being the de facto social secretary of your polycule relationship network, ask your partners or metamours to take the lead on certain tasks. Sharing the load can make a huge difference. You don’t have to be the person who remembers everyone’s birthday, books the restaurant table for group dinner, and manages everyone’s feelings about a sudden schedule change. 

By combining clear communication channels, healthy boundaries, and a willingness to occasionally say “let’s chat about this later,” you can keep the conversation flowing without drowning in it.

Staying Grounded In Your Polycule Relationship Web

Navigating the polyamorous relationship web inevitably means embracing a bit of chaos from time to time. Polyamory isn’t just about having multiple partners, but about cultivating multiple meaningful connections that honor everyone’s needs including your own. It’s a balancing act of time, money, attention, and emotional support. 

But with open communication, intentional scheduling, and a commitment to kindness towards yourself and your partners, it’s very possible to create a dynamic where everyone is happy, satisfied, and feels that their needs are being met. 

Remember: love isn’t a finite resource, but your energy is.

Check in regularly with yourself and each member of the polycule, setting aside moments to recalibrate, breathe, and figure out what’s working and what’s not. By recognizing your limits, sharing them openly, and staying curious about your partners’ and metamours’ experiences, you’ll be better equipped to weather the rocky emotional waves and keep everyone feeling cherished. It may not always be easy, but when done right, a polycule can be a living, breathing testament to the fact that love truly does grow the more you share it.

About the Writer

Samantha Squirt is the bold and unapologetic mind and fingers behind squirtstudios.com. She thrives on diving into the juiciest corners of pop cultures intimate trends from the rise of ass-eating to decoding the world of gooning. Samantha combines wit, wisdom, and just the right amount of sass to keep her readers entertained and educated in sexual wellness.

[Guest Post] When Your Antidepressant is Anti-Libido by Destiny Marshall

Remember the fantastic guest post about navigating OCPD and sex back in October? I’m delighted to welcome writer Destiny Marshall (she/her) back again today with another post about antidepressants and libido – a struggle I know all too well! This post was inspired by, and forms a companion piece of sorts, to Karen Colby’s personal essay about losing her libido in her 50s and then finding it again in her 60s.

Over to Destiny!

Amy x

When Your Antidepressant is Anti-Libido by Destiny Marshall

Sometimes, we have experiences but don’t give serious thought to them until something or someone else draws our attention to them. That’s what happened to me when I read Karen Colby’s post about her sex life on Coffee & Kink. When she mentioned coming off certain medications and regaining her sex drive, I suddenly remembered my own experience with psychotropic medication.

For a bit of background, I grew up in purity culture, and it wasn’t until I was 20 that I had sex for the first time. Even before then, though, I knew I was really into sex. I had a multitude of crushes, and I was an accomplished flirter. Feeling guilty over my “sins” didn’t stop me from making out often.

Sometime after starting university, I broke out of purity culture. That was when I started actively considering having sex. The first time didn’t cause stars to fall from heaven, but it was beautiful and I knew I wanted to do it often. Once I started, there was no stopping me. I was sex-positive before I knew the term existed.

In 2020, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, clinical depression, and generalised anxiety disorder. My psychiatrist wanted to place me on medication. I was hesitant, because of some vaguely negative view of psychotropics. But I was at rock bottom, thanks in part to the coronavirus pandemic, and I needed help to get myself up. I was prescribed an antidepressant, and soon afterwards, an antipsychotic. And so it began.

I daresay that no doctor ever hands you a prescription and says, “Here’s to wrecking your sex life!” (though I haven’t seen enough of them to be sure.) In my experience, the only drugs worse for my sex life than those associated with mental illness were hormonal contraceptives, but that’s a whole other blog post.

I lost a great deal of control over my body while on the medication. I no longer had any say over when I wanted to sleep, because I was sleeping most of the time. I bloated up like a ball. My dreams got weirder and weirder. My already healthy appetite felt like it was on steroids. Worse still, I nearly had an aneurysm thinking I’d got breast cancer when I started secreting breastmilk (a side effect of risperidone that nobody tells you about). But, perhaps, no side effect got to me more than the loss of my sex drive.

At first, I didn’t notice what was happening. It started as feeling a bit disconnected when sexting with my then-boyfriend. I thought the physical distance between us was the matter, and I’d feel all spicy once I was with him again. But the anticipated spiciness still failed to come through when we got together in person. I couldn’t find my enthusiasm any more. I admitted to myself that I was having a low libido moment, and assumed things would be better next time.

I started getting worried when the next time was a lot worse. Here I was, with a person I loved and was crazily attracted to, and I didn’t want to kiss him. I didn’t want to be touched by him. I finally had a lightbulb moment and linked my libido dip to the drugs I was taking. It felt a bit comforting to know I wasn’t losing my love of sex out of the blues, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

I tried to fight my way back to being a sex lover. The disconnect between the great sex I’d had in the past and my present fumbling self was disconcerting. I tried going into a performative mode to keep my reputation alive, but it just wasn’t working. I didn’t feel like sex, and that was that about that.

Tired out, I surrendered. When sex partners asked what was up, I let them know I was on medication and as a result, was no longer in the mood. I started thinking that, perhaps, I might never like sex again. I started wondering what all the fuss about sex was about. Porn nauseated me. I forgot how it felt to touch myself.

On the flip side, I was feeling better mentally. Trading sexual pleasure for peace of mind seemed like a perfectly good bargain. Despondency soon gave way to acceptance. I had lost my sex drive to my drugs, and that was alright. I settled into my non-desire for sex. It wasn’t the end of the world.

I was on the meds for two years. I got quite a lot better. But the side effects had still not really worn off, and I was becoming weary of them. After two years, I did some research and weaned myself off the meds, since the psychiatrists wouldn’t listen to my consistent request to be taken off them (medical gaslighting is a real thing). I can’t remember what I expected, but my sex drive didn’t come roaring back. For some time, things were as they were. It didn’t help that I was far away from most of my sex partners.

But slowly, my desire was returning. I started off returning to masturbating. I was thrilled to feel horny again, even if slightly. When I had been with myself for a bit, I finally wanted to be with another person again. My hormones were still finicky, so the road to libido restoration was slow and bumpy. But it did happen.

I’m glad I got off the meds. They had done their job when I needed them to, and I was doing well with therapy. I’d gotten to the point where their side effects were beginning to outweigh their benefits. The medical community has a long way to go in listening to the patient, so it helps to be in tune with our bodies, to know what they need at each point and to honour that.

Looking back at the experience, I wish I gave myself more grace and didn’t feel the need to force a desire that wasn’t there. It’s alright to not want sex all the time, no matter how sex-positive you are. We needn’t place sex-god(dess) expectations on ourselves, and we have no business shouldering other people’s expectations, either.

Sex drive isn’t a constant. It dips and peaks, based on several variables. But what we can make a constant in our lives is being true to how we feel at any given moment. The best sex we’ll ever have is the sex we really want to have.

About the Writer

Destiny Marshall is obsessed with the interconnectedness of mental health and sexuality. When she’s not writing about that, she works on her meme scientist ambitions and gets to know her bed better.

[Guest Post] Navigating Sex When You Have OCPD by Destiny Marshall

I’m sure you all know by now that I am passionate about mental health, destigmatising mental health challenges, and integrating our sex lives with our mental health in positive and sustainable ways. That’s why I was delighted to accept this guest post from writer Destiny Marshall (she/her) all about navigating sex with Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, or OCPD.

Navigating Sex When You Have OCPD by Destiny Marshall

Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD) is a mental health disorder that causes a chronic preoccupation with orderliness, perfectionism, and control. A person with OCPD is rigid in the way they see life and carry out everyday tasks. Flexibility and compromise are dangerous and hated words. And they often don’t realise that their behaviour and thought patterns are problematic. As far as they’re concerned, their way is THE way, and you lot are just wrong.

OCPD is different from the more familiar Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). With OCD, unwanted and intrusive thoughts (obsessions) cause one to engage in repetitive behaviours (compulsions) to relieve the distress. People with OCD are usually aware that they have a problem and need professional help. Not so with OCPD folks.

When I got my OCPD diagnosis, my obsession with perfectionism and order and absolute control suddenly made a lot of sense. But I never considered that the disorder might be affecting my sex life. 

That was until one night, a partner texted to say they were in my neighbourhood and what about a quickie in the car? That sounded far from great to me. I’m not a spontaneous person who will just dash out their door to go grab an orgasm, even if they were in the mood and the world was ending in ten. If it’s not in my to-do list, it will have to wait to get pencilled in.

I tried to wiggle out of the proposition from my partner. But in the end, I acknowledged to myself that living a little would not kill me, even if it messed with my precious daily schedule.

The sex wasn’t bad. It could’ve been much more, but I couldn’t shake off the fact that this was deviating from how I thought sex should be. And that’s before we get into how tricky cleanup can be in a space as constricted as a car. I was thoroughly uncomfortable.

That experience made me introspect and realise all the tiny little ways that OCPD was sabotaging sex for me.

A person with OCPD may find themselves having rigid expectations of how sex should play out – which is perfectly. Any deviation from this “ideal” is nothing short of a failure. And because life is life and we can’t guarantee perfection in every situation, OCPD folks find themselves in a pattern of avoidance, dissatisfaction, or both.

In trying to keep up to standard, people with OCPD may turn sex into a performance. You know what I’m talking about – hitting those moan-notes you think you ought to be hitting even when you’re not feeling like it; keeping it going even when your mind is no longer in it, because it’s supposed to be enjoyable and admitting it isn’t is a catastrophe of great magnitude.

Strategies for Navigating Sex and OCPD

Sex usually calls for some level of spontaneity and surrender. But are we really our OCPD selves if we relinquish control? The universe forbid we should let go and enjoy ourselves without inhibition!

It’s stifling. You want to live a little, but you feel like you’re wired not to. What to do?

Having OCPD and having a fun sex life don’t have to be mutually exclusive. In my experience, patience and communication and self-compassion can Make Love Great Again. Below are some strategies that have helped me. Feel free to pick what works for you and trash the rest:

Acknowledge Your Feelings

It’s essential to recognise and accept how you feel about sex. Whether you’re anxious, frustrated, or even ashamed of your struggles, these feelings are valid, and acknowledging them is the first step toward addressing them. Sit with yourself and have that solo TED Talk.

Communicate with Your Partner

One time, right before meeting up with a partner, I got into a depressive bout. I didn’t want to bail out because that would ruin my schedule and all the expectations, which would be unforgivable. At some point, prodded by my partner, I finally opened up about how I was feeling. They were super supportive, and we walked through our feelings to a place that felt good. It ended in the tenderest lovemaking.

Communicating with your partner is key. Let them know about your challenges and how OCPD affects your experience of sex. This builds understanding and a supportive environment where you both feel comfortable. Be honest, and set clear boundaries that make you feel safe. 

Focus on Connection, Not Perfection

Sex, like life, doesn’t have to be perfect to be enjoyable. We all know this, but we usually need to be reminded. 

Mindfully ground yourself in the present. Attune all your senses to the moment. When you find your mind wandering, gently draw yourself back to your body, where it is in space, and what’s happening to it.

Give yourself grace to let yourself go, then let yourself go. If it helps, take away attention from yourself: focus on the person(s) you’re with, and how they’re experiencing the moment with you.  

Develop a Pre-Sex Ritual…

Creating a pre-sex ritual can help you transition from your daily routine to a more relaxed state. Maybe you take a warm bath; practice mindful breathing; say a mantra (you can borrow mine: Right now, in this moment, pleasure, not perfection); or spend time cuddling with your partner. A ritual helps signal to your brain that it’s time to shift gears, which can help reduce anxiety.

…And a Post-Sex Ritual

It’s a lot easier for me to let myself go and get as messy as the situation calls for, when I know I can take all the time I need to clean and organise and get back into routine afterwards.

Personality disorders take time to work on. You’re not going to wave a wand and suddenly banish your desire for order and control. Making provisions for returning to whatever normalcy feels like for you after sex can help you enjoy the moment a lot more.

Seek Help

If OCPD is significantly affecting your sex life, consider seeking help from a mental health professional. Therapy can provide you with tools to manage your symptoms and navigate sexual experiences more effectively.

If trustworthy professional help is something out of your reach (and even if it isn’t), prioritise self care. A therapy skills workbook, which you can work through at your own pace, can also help greatly.

Practise Self-Compassion

Living with OCPD can be challenging. We tend to beat ourselves up for every little failure, real or imagined. Self-compassion, then, is a must. 

Remember to be kind to yourself when things don’t go as planned, and remember that it’s okay to struggle. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough. Paste that everywhere so you don’t forget for a second.

Celebrate small wins when you make progress, and forgive yourself when you fail a little. Everyone falls off sometimes. Even your favourite influencer.

So, yeah, sex can get messy and disorderly. But that’s not going to stop us from channelling our inner Inanna and lusting ourselves out, OCPD be damned. Amen.

About the Writer

Destiny Marshall is obsessed with the interconnectedness of mental health and sexuality. When she’s not writing about that, she works on her meme scientist ambitions and gets to know her bed better.

[Guest Post] My Sex Life: From Beginning to End to Beginning Again by Karen Colby

One of the reasons I started this site was to play a role in demystifying sex and normalising discussions of sexuality, particularly kink, BDSM, non-monogamous and queer identities. However, I was in my mid-20s when I started this blog and I’m in my mid-30s now. And it seems to me that the vast majority of content out there about sex is written with the approximately 18-45 demographic in mind.

This is a huge oversight. According to experts at Johns Hopkins Medicine, around half of all (cis) women are still sexually active in their 50s, and 27% remain sexually active in their 70s. Hormonal and bodily changes later in life, from menopause and falling testosterone levels through to aging-related health issues and lower energy can all have a major impact on our sex lives as we enter the second half of our lives. Even so, many people in this age bracket still can and do enjoy a healthy and fulfilling sex life. Many more, I am sure, would if they had access to more information and resources. That’s why I was so keen to publish this piece by Karen Colby (she/her) all about her experience of losing and then rediscovering her sexuality.

By the way: if you’d like to learn more about sex after 50, Joan Price’s incredible work is the best place to start.

Amy x

My Sex Life: From Beginning to End to Beginning Again by Karen Colby

I was born in 1963, which makes me 61 years old.

When I was a teen, women in bra ads wore their bras on the outside of their blouses because they couldn’t show a bra on bare skin on television. We didn’t have porn on our phones – our phones were mounted on walls. So when it came to sex, my boyfriend and I knew very little.

We had to figure it out all by ourselves. We would make out for hours in the back seat of his car. It took him a year to get up the nerve to put his hand up my shirt, but after that he got more daring and when he put his hand down my pants, I was hooked. We lost our virginities to each other when I was 18. Fucking wasn’t my favorite activity, but I loved the things that people typically call “foreplay.” I loved everything about it. I could have multiple orgasms, and I’m talking a lot. 

When I was 24, I got married. Our sex life was good, until I realized that I was way more attracted to women than I was to my husband. I left him when I was 31 for a woman I met in an AOL chat room. Although I was attracted to women, I had never even kissed a girl before I met her. I’ll never forget the first time we were together. It was all very soft, very gentle, and very wet. Unfortunately our relationship only lasted three years. 

After that I was a serial monogamist. That is until shortly after I turned 40, and my sex drive went through the roof. I started dating three women and absolutely could not get enough sex. That intense desire lasted for a couple of years. It was a very exciting time!

One of the three women I was dating and I moved in together, and we were together for several years. Then, a short time after we broke up (when I was 51 years old), something new and very unexpected happened: my sex drive disappeared completely.

I was single, so I didn’t even notice it immediately. One day I saw my vibrator in my drawer and thought, wow, that thing is gathering dust, I haven’t used it in so long! When I thought about it, I realized that not only had I not used my vibrator in almost a year, but I really hadn’t thought about sex at all. 

I’m guessing that having no sex drive when you’re in a relationship would be more difficult than when you’re single. But even though I didn’t have a partner, it bothered me because I had always been such a big fan of sex. I started using my vibrator once every three or four months, not because I was horny but just to remember what an orgasm felt like.

Meanwhile, my life was passing by. I wasn’t dating, because I liked being alone and without the desire for sex I couldn’t be bothered trying to make yet another relationship work. This serial monogamist was single for 10 years and had sex exactly zero times during that decade. It made me sad, because 51 felt far too young to give up sex forever, but I resigned myself to being alone and sexless for the rest of my life.

Then, earlier this year, I stopped taking a couple of medications and my sex drive came back with a vengeance. I felt like I was 40 again! I went from having no interest in sex to using my vibrator twice a day, sometimes more… and sometimes a lot more! Though I was so happy to have my libido back, I found myself in a new predicament. I was horny all the time, but had no one to have sex with. 

So I went on dating sites, hoping to find a woman nearby who wanted to meet up, but that didn’t happen. Back in my 40s, I lived in New York. Now I’m in a small town and there aren’t a lot of single lesbians here. After about a month of craving sex, I tried putting an ad on one of the websites stating I was looking for a man. I hadn’t had sex with a man in 30 years! But I remembered liking it a lot in the back seat of my first boyfriend’s car.

I found an interested guy quickly and I was very upfront with him. I told him I had lost my sex drive for 10 years and it had recently come back stronger than ever. He was very nice and more than happy to take me back to his apartment. When he went down on me, it was like the first time all over again. It was so good. I still wasn’t a huge fan of penetrative sex, but it was wonderful to be intimate with someone again. He and I got together a few more times, then I found a website where you could post an ad searching for sexual partners. So I did.

I still wanted to be with a woman again, though. It seemed unfathomable that I hadn’t touched a woman in 10 years. I decided if I couldn’t find a partner of my own, maybe I could play with someone else’s. So I advertised that I was looking for a couple, and soon found one. It’s astounding how many couples want to have threesomes! This couple were married and just about my age. He was very nice and fairly average looking for a 60 year old man, and she was incredibly pretty.

As I pulled into the parking lot of a very expensive hotel (which I never could have afforded by myself!) I didn’t know what to expect from the evening. The hotel was stunning and the room we were staying in was huge. We had drinks in the room, and they took me out for a lovely dinner. We all talked over delicious food and got to know each other a little. During dinner I kept thinking we’re going to get naked together later! which both excited me and made me nervous. I have to say that I don’t think I would have seriously entertained the idea of meeting a married couple for sex when I was younger. There’s something freeing about being older. 

After dinner, we went back to the hotel. The minute we walked into our room the wife said, “It’s time for sex!”. We started out just kissing with our clothes on. I kissed her, I kissed him, they kissed each other. Then we all kissed at once, which was fun but a little awkward. Once our clothes came off and she was in my arms, I instantly remembered why I love women. She was so soft and her breasts felt so good against mine. Of course, her husband got involved too, and that was fine with me. A good time was had by all. We stayed overnight and did it all again the next day. While she was sucking on one of my nipples and he was sucking on the other, I said, “I’m never having sex with just one person again.”

Since then, I have in fact had sex with just one person again. Actually, I’ve slept with a few guys, though I’m still looking for a female partner and I’m always buying batteries for my vibrator. My sex drive is still alive and well, and I have a threesome planned for this coming weekend. If it’s half as good as the last one, I’ll be very happy.

Karen Colby was the writer of Boyfriends and College Boys magazines

[Guest Post] What Does “Total Chastity” Mean to You?

I’ve written for Total Chastity a couple of times before, and this time their team pitched me a guest post of their own! They decided to poll their customers on what “total chastity” means to them. The results are quite enlightening, so I’ll hand you over to them to tell you all about it!

Amy x

What Does “Total Chastity” Mean to You?

Running a male chastity[1] website gives us the opportunity to interact with a huge range of submissives, Dominants, and Mistresses. While we’re all here for similar reasons, each individual in the fetish community is different. Even our name, Total Chastity, invokes all kinds of ideas and fantasies for different people, so we thought it would be fun to ask the question:

“What does “total chastity” mean to you?”

Here are some of the responses we got.

[1] “Male chastity” is the term commonly used to refer to a person with a penis being locked up in a chastity cage. However, this is a bit of a misnomer as not everyone with a penis–or who enjoys this kink–is a man

“Total Chastity Means Being Locked 24/7”

Permanent chastity was one of the most common answers we got when we quizzed our customers. The idea of chastity totally taking over your life is a common one within the fetish, and many submissives aspire to reach this despite the difficulty for most people.

“Even when I was just getting started, being locked all the time was the goal. It’s harder than you think to pull off though. There’s always a day where you’re uncomfortable or don’t feel up to it. I’m still not there yet but I don’t feel like I’ll be doing “Total Chastity” until I am.”

While the idea of permanent chastity can be a tantalising carrot for many submissives, it’s not something you should dive straight into. We advise starting with small periods of time wearing the cage and increasing them gradually. Even if you need to take the cage off at night, but wear it throughout the day, you shouldn’t feel like a failure.

It’s also important to be aware of the safety implications of wearing a chastity cage long term. We like this piece by Dan Savage in which he consulted with a urologist on how to do chastity safely. 

“Total Chastity Means Having a Mistress”

While we always encourage those who want to practise male chastity alone to do so, for some it’s never enough. Despite the majority of the experience being completely possible as a solo submissive, many of the responses we got from our customers stated that they felt they wouldn’t be doing “Total Chastity” until they find themselves someone to hold the keys and to truly submit to.

“I did my time on my own, but it never really clicked until I found Mistress. You can try all the neat tricks you want like giving the key to a friend or burying it in the garden, but you can always just go get it back. Once you’ve found someone to take that dominant role over you it really changes everything. To me that’s the step that takes it from just chastity to “total chastity”.”

Even though this point of view was fairly common amongst the chastity enthusiasts we spoke to, we always encourage those with an interest in chastity to give it a try even without a partner. It can help you explore the fetish, figure out which parts you like and dislike, and go into a partnered relationship more prepared with an idea of what you want to get out of it. There are also more and more products coming out to help support solo submissives such as app locking cages, and online keyholding services, which can give you an idea of what it’ll be like having a real Mistress, Master, or Dominant.

“Total Chastity Means More Than a Cage”

Anyone can put on a chastity cage. Anyone can wear one for hours or even days. But does that make them a chastity submissive? For many of our customers, the bit that comes after putting on the cage is what really defines “total chastity”.

“When I first started, I think I mind- gamed myself a bit. For some reason I thought once I’d bought a chastity device and put it on that would be it. Really though, it was only the beginning. Once the initial excitement wore off, reality started to set in. For me the things you do while you’re wearing the cage are so much more important than just the act of locking up your junk. Only once you start to live your life as a submissive do you truly start to experience “total chastity”.”

A lot of stores are only really in it to sell you a cage. Once they’ve made the sale, you’re left to figure out the rest on your own. Luckily there are plenty of resources online to help, including forums where you can talk to others who’ve gone through exactly the same process when they started out.

At Total Chastity, we want to be part of this process. That’s why we regularly post an array of chastity themed content that can help you not just with choosing and buying a cage, but what to do after you’ve put it on.

“Total Chastity Means Total Submission”

A slightly more philosophical answer that we got from some of our customers was focused on the submissive component of the chastity process. These answers were massively varied, but followed the same general theme that there was a moment during the experience where it truly felt that they were powerless and “became a true submissive”. For these individuals, that “moment” is what it means to experience “total chastity”.

“There wasn’t one specific thing that I can think of. It was more like I’d crossed a bridge and there was no going back. I’d gone through the motions for months and yeah, it was fun and interesting. But one day it just clicked. She was in control. My cock was hers. Nothing I said or did would change that. That was my “total chastity” moment.”

It’s difficult to pin down a specific thing that would give you this “moment”. All we can really do if you’re looking for it is to keep exploring and trying different aspects of chastity, experimenting and exploring to figure out what works for you.

“Total Chastity Means Total Chastity”

Hearing these points of view from our customers was a fascinating experienced which reaffirmed our own beliefs. Total Chastity isn’t about one specific thing. It’s the whole experience that matters, and it is deeply personal.

That’s why we aim to focus on providing as much of that experience as possible. From quality cages to in depth advice. From chatting to submissives and Dominants on social media to trying out as many cages as we can. Total Chastity is our mission, and we aim to deliver it to all who want to experience it–whatever that means to you.

This guest post contains sponsored links.

[Guest Post] Anorgasmia and The Pursuit of Pleasure by Alessandra Fraissinet

It’s been quite a while since we had a guest post, hasn’t it? I’m happy to be welcoming Alessandra Fraissinet (they/she), a queer, sex-positive relationship, sex and health educator (RSH), talking about anorgasmia, the orgasm gap, and orgasm difficulties. This has come at a pretty perfect time, especially given that I wrote recently about my own struggles with orgasm and vow to never “fake it” again.

The Pursuit of Pleasure by Alessandra Fraissinet

TW: mention of depression and sexual violence

Part of my job as a sex educator is to encourage people of all genders and sexualities to follow their pleasure. To have sex because it feels good, to release expectations, to be playful, and to move away from the idea of sex as a performance. Under heteronormativity, in particular, sex can be viewed as something you do with a particular aim and, specifically, something that must lead to orgasm.

Now, there are a few things to know about orgasms:

First, orgasms are an involuntary response to a mechanical stimulus, pretty much like a sneeze. That means you or your partner(s) can facilitate the reaction by creating a set of ideal circumstances (trust, relaxation, appropriate stimulation), but that technically no one can make you orgasm except for your own body.

And just as there are a few things you can do to facilitate orgasm, some things can also make it hard to reach. Relaxation, adequate stimulation, good pelvic floor health, safety and trust all contribute to creating an ideal environment for orgasms. On the other hand, physical and psychological factors like depression, anxiety, certain medications, stress, and sexual trauma can prevent you from having orgasms either occasionally or all the time.

People with vulvas, especially cis women who have sex with cishet men, are known to have it harder: this is a well-documented phenomenon known as the orgasm gap. When discussing the orgasm gap, people most often place emphasis on poor communication between partners, male selfishness, and a lack of appropriate pleasure education.

Regardless of sex, gender or sexual orientation, orgasms can be difficult to achieve. This can result in significant pressure during partnered sex especially. Unlearning the idea of sex as a performance, and embracing it as an experience, requires us to release our expectations of a specific outcome and allow pleasure to take whatever form comes naturally in a given moment. This is challenging, especially if – like me – you live with anorgasmia: the extreme difficulty or inability to orgasm.

Anorgasmia can be primary (when you have never had an orgasm) or secondary (when you used to be able to orgasm). It can depend on a variety of different factors: excessive worrying around sexual “performance”, depression and other mood disorders, chronic pain, sexual trauma, hormonal changes, gynaecological surgery, and other health conditions can all cause anorgasmia.

Being a Sex Educator with Anorgasmia

So here I am, embodying the contradiction of being a sex educator who is not only unable to orgasm, but is also consistently failing to address what is “wrong” with their body. Here I am telling people they need to stop obsessing over orgasms and start enjoying sex for pleasure and connection… when I can rarely practice what I preach.

And don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t enjoy sex for the sake of pleasure and connection because I do. Because I don’t cum, pleasure and connection pretty much constitute the whole deal to me. But to be completely honest, most of the time, I am immensely frustrated with my body. I feel betrayed. And I feel like my body has failed me.

I can’t seem to recall my first orgasms – or even whether I have ever actually experienced one. My first experiences with sex were turbulent, to put it mildly. But even now, when I am having super hot sex, when I am really turned on, and when I am having sex with someone who I trust and who cares about me, I cannot ever bring myself to climax. No matter the amount of adequate stimulation I am receiving. No matter how many sex toys I’m aiding myself with.

I always come super close to it, and then… I wish I could say it’s like a deer in headlights that simply stops and goes away, never to be seen again. But the reality is that the pleasure becomes unbearable at this point, and I ask my partner to stop (or I stop if I am masturbating).

Reactions are mixed. Some people (you guessed it, mostly cis men) don’t say a word, and I am not even sure they notice. Some seem puzzled and thrown off or ask me questions. I then explain what happens to my body. While there is a general understanding, most people seem very surprised by it.

Talking About It

Telling partners about my anorgasmia can be even more frustrating than having the condition itself. Attempting to articulate what happens to my body while I’m experiencing intense pleasure without ever being able to follow through puts me right in front of the issue I’ve consistently been trying to avoid (which is another perfect example of “do as I say, not as I do”). And the reason why I avoid the issue is that actively trying to overcome it seems way too overwhelming.

There’s something terrifying about realising that you are indeed in charge of your own pleasure. Your partners can aid and facilitate it but cannot create it from scratch and give it to you. If you want to experience it, you must show up for yourself. That can mean a few different things: communicating with your partner openly and honestly and asking for what you want, making time and being intentional about solo sex, or going to therapy and facing uncomfortable truths. Sometimes all three, and more, together.

For years, I’ve refused to address my anorgasmia in the name of pleasure. Because sex feels good no matter what. Because I can still feel close to my partner. And because I firmly reject all sorts of expectations around sex. Wanting more doesn’t make me a hypocrite, though. If you take away one thing from this post, let it be this: you can embrace orgasm-less pleasure while being curious and trying to overcome your limitations. I deserve powerful, earth-shattering orgasms, and so do you.

“You deserve pleasure” has become a popular catchphrase in sex-positive communities, and rightfully so. But to internalise this message is difficult. And if you’ve been struggling with depression, low self-esteem or sexual trauma, taking charge of your own pleasure can feel overwhelming and out of
reach. There’s no quick fix and no magic wand, but there is important work to do.

If you would like to support me in bringing more amazing guest writers to the site, the best way to do that is by becoming a supporter on Patreon. You can also chip in by buying me a virtual coffee!

[Guest Post] Revisiting My Erotic Fiction with a New Perspective on Consent by Alex Holmes

I’m pleased to be welcoming Alex Holmes (he/him) to Coffee & Kink with his first guest post. I’d also like to thank him for his extraordinary patience while I took a million years to read, edit, and publish this piece.

Alex has also, coincidentally, covered the subject of revising your boundaries downwards in this piece. This is something I think we don’t talk about enough and something I really want to write about more in the future. So look out for that coming soon!

Heads up: this post discusses forms of violence including rape, sexual abuse, “stealthing” (which is also a form of sexual violence,) murder, and intimate partner abuse. If that’s likely to be triggering for you, please skip this one if that’s what you need to do to take care of yourself.

Amy x

So, I have a confession: a few years ago, I wrote a series of erotic novels (under a pen name, before anyone stops reading this to go hurriedly searching for them!) They did pretty well, as erotica goes. But these days, I’ll admit that I’m hugely conflicted about them.

Don’t get me wrong, they were decent books – well-written (if I do say so myself), decent plot (ditto), plenty of “action,” and they sold well enough to pay a few bills and get excellent reviews along the way. They still sell, albeit occasionally, and I still get the odd quarterly royalty payment from them even now. None of that was the problem.

The issue to me, now, is that two of those books are very clearly based around an implicitly consensual non-consent (CNC) setting that’s, in hindsight, more distinctly borderline on the “consensual” part than perhaps I’d like if I were writing them today. Put bluntly, they feature a very obviously “fantasy” slavery setting that a decade or more later I’d have to say I’m not particularly proud of. I was younger and I’ve learned and grown since then, what can I say?

Now, these books were very clearly set in a fantasy alternate history, behind a very clear These stories are fantasy. In real life, consent and safety are two of the most fundamental cornerstones of BDSM…’“introduction, and no-one – I felt then – was going to take the “captured heroine” thing seriously as an expression of how women should actually be treated. Moreover, a significant proportion of the readers were women, and all the comments I ever heard about those stories –from all genders – were entirely positive. They were fantasy. People got it, and readers enjoyed them.

The stories obviously played to the same fantasy audience as Roquelaure and Reage (to be clear, though, they weren’t anywhere near as well written as either!): the idea of fantasy helplessness, of being in a situation where choices were taken entirely out of our hands and safewords and traffic-light check-ins were unheard of, appealed to audiences of all genders, it seemed. No-one suggested that there was anything going on other than some relatively okay-ish erotic writing and a little fantasy alone-time.

In private, I’d continued to practice kink with consenting partners, and with discussed and agreed-upon limits, aftercare, safewords, easy-release knots, safety rules, and regular wellbeing check-ins. At no point did I equate that world – other than in an occasional “shared storytelling” sense – with the fantasy land of poor Princess Elizabeth (my protagonist) and her unfortunate downfall and eventual rehabilitation and revenge.

Why Consent Is On My Mind (And Should Be On Yours, Too)

I started thinking (again) about this stuff recently, in response to the Andrew Tate arrest and the unfolding horror of what was allegedly going on in his house in Romania. It coalesced into a coherent (I hope) set of thoughts in response to a number of tweets I’ve seen talking about masculinity in BDSM, and how – apparently, according to a certain section of Twitter populated entirely by profile pics of faceless men in suits and ties, often holding a leather belt – “feminism has no place” in D/s. Women, apparently, have no place in dictating what Dominants (read: men, or so these people assume) can and can’t do. Essentially it was toxic, who-gives-a-damn-about-consent? masculinity writ loud.

Those tweets, and the stories of misogyny and the radicalisation of young men lured in by Tate’s philosophy that were coming into the mainstream media in the wake of his arrest, triggered some of those concerns I’d had previously. This raised (or maybe re-confirmed) a bunch of questions for me about how we talk about consent. As much as I believe I’ve learned and grown in the period since my books were first published, and as much as the stuff I’ve written more recently (and the way I try to treat others in the bedroom and in general) is hopefully a little more “two-way-street,” it saddens and disturbs me that, in the third decade of the 21st Century and sixty years since the height of the Sexual Revolution, an article on consent even has any reason to still be written. And yet, here we are.

Consent is Fluid, Changeable, and Revokeable

I’ve always believed that, in any D/s scenario, the power lies with the bottom, not the top; submission is a gift that’s given to a partner, not taken, and it can be revoked just as quickly if things no longer feel safe or enjoyable. Similarly, we know that consent isn’t a fixed, one-time thing. It’s fluid, and it can be withdrawn if something no longer feels right. We’ve heard a lot recently about “stealthing”, in which men receiving consent for safer, condom-clad sex only to surreptitiously shed the contraceptive and try to slip in bareback in the hope that their partner doesn’t notice until too late. A note to those men: if it wasn’t what was consented to, then it’s non-consensual. And there’s another word for that.

But consent can also be withdrawn for stuff that you thought you wanted and then it turned out you didn’t; sure, if you like being spanked then you might think “I quite fancy being caned”, or paddled, or whatever. It’s a reasonable progression to consider. But after the first stroke you realise that, in fact, it’s a very different experience and actually you’re really not into it at all. It’s entirely reasonable to ask for it to stop. That’s withdrawing consent, and it must be respected and accepted without question.

Revising Your Boundaries Downwards

But it’s even more nuanced than that. What about those things we used to love, but which kind of don’t fit quite so well anymore? We all talk about how, particularly in long-term, supportive relationships, our boundaries and trust develop and things that perhaps we didn’t feel comfortable asking for become easier or more natural. But it happens the other way, too.

Sometimes, stuff that used to make us as hot as fuck sometimes just feels kinda… ookie. That’s ok. We’re allowed to have that to happen, and we should be able to say “yeah, I don’t want that right now, actually” without incurring the “well, you used to be fine with it” huff.

Fantasy and Reality Are Wildly Different Things

When I was researching for my books (and yes, I did actually research stuff), I did a fair amount of talking to people in BDSM groups, in person and online, to find out what was and wasn’t considered okay, rather than just relying on my own take. I realised I wasn’t the oracle on this, and that other people had a great deal more experience and knowledge than I did. Part of that involved spending some time in online chat rooms and message boards, where I was amazed at the number – and it’s a stupifyingly high number – of supposedly Dominant men who thought that, simply because someone has a lower-case letter at the start of their nickname (signifying their being a sub), they’re fair-game for opening up with “on your knees, slut.” I watched it, time and again, thinking “would you start off with that opener to someone you’d never spoken to before down the pub?” There is, it seems, a significant number of people who can’t tell the difference between dominance and simply being an aggressive asshole.

So what’s the point of all this? I guess, fundamentally, it’s one that every good partner should know. Whether we’re in a D/s scenario, in a more vanilla setting, or just living our lives together, respect and communication are paramount. That trust is fundamental, and it’s built slowly and lost in an instant. Afriend of mine used to say that “trust arrives on foot and leaves on horseback.”

Consent is an active thing, and it’s constant, fluid, and not “one time only”. The safety and welfare of our partners is way more important than our particular fantasy or getting our rocks off – and that goes for dom/mes as well as subs. Aftercare and check-ins are fundamental to safe and consensual play, both ways around.

To bring it full circle back to those old erotic stories again, the fantasy idea of being chained up in a basement and used for fun – or whatever – is more common than you might think. CNC, bondage, and the loss (or temporarily giving away) of control can be fun, if they’re done within the right situation and context.

The kind of content Tate was peddling to millions of boys and young men across the world, though, normalises the misogynistic, violent, oppressive view that they really have a right to take away women’s consent, control, and agency. In a world where one in three women and one in four men suffers some kind of intimate partner violence, and where over 130 women are killed by a partner or family member every week globally, that line between consent and coercion should be at the forefront of our minds in any interactions – regardless of what the Tates of the world would have us think.

You can find Alex on Twitter @AlexJH1973, on Facebook @alex.holmes.96780, and on Instagram @alexh1973. In lieu of accepting payment for this piece, Alex asked me to make a small donation to Studio Upstairs, a mental health arts charity. You can learn more about them, and donate if you feel so inclined, here.

[Guest Post] It’s Time for Non-binary and Polyamory-Inclusive Leather Titles by Lisa Kivok

One of the joys of publishing guest posts on this blog is that I get to enjoy a glimpse into aspects of the vast worlds of gender, sexuality, and kink that I don’t have direct experience with. That’s why I am really thrilled with today’s post in which Lisa Kivok (she/her) tells us why she thinks it’s past time for non-binary and polyamorous inclusion in the world of leather titles. It’s a thought-provoking piece that I’m thrilled to share with you all.

Amy x

It’s Time for Non-binary and Polyamory-Inclusive Leather Titles by Lisa Kivok

It’s 2022. Non-binary and polyamorous people are increasingly visible in mainstream society. Not nearly enough, of course, but still increasingly so. But the leather community, which rightfully prides itself so much on being accepting, often excludes them in its contest titles. Not always, and usually not intentionally, but still far too often.

For example, how often do you see a leather title for Couple of the Year/Region/etc.? Now, how included do you think monogamous people would feel if the title was Polycule of the Year… but hey, we’ll let couples compete and call them “Couple of the Year” if they happen to win? Just about as included as polyamorous people feel when relationships competing for titles are dubbed “couples” by default.

Instead, it’s time for leather contests to stop using Couple of the Year titles and start using titles that are neutral in relationship style and can truly include polyamorous people – for example, Relationship of the Year.

A trickier phenomenon is that of Woman/Man of the Year/Region/etc. leather titles. It wouldn’t be right for those titles to be replaced – for a lot of people, their femininity or masculinity is an important part of their connection to the leather world. That shouldn’t be downplayed by eliminating those titles. But it’s past time that leather contests acknowledged non-binary leather people by adding a non-binary title, too – for example, Non-binary Person of the Year. Just letting non-binary people compete in Woman/Man categories and changing the title if they win isn’t fair. If women and men get their own designated titles, non-binary people should, too. After all, would you expect a woman to feel included in a non-binary person of the year contest? The same is true in reverse.

Why is now the time to make these changes?

Polyamorous and non-binary people have always existed, and any time would have been a great time to acknowledge them by making these changes, as some but not enough leather contests already have. Indeed, it would have been best to start out with such inclusive titles when leather contests first began. But such changes are better done late than never, and now is an especially important time to take a stand on this. That’s because right now there is a huge backlash against diversity, especially sexual diversity.

Yes, non-binary and polyamorous people are increasingly visible in mainstream society, but that often only leads to greater backlash. You can’t turn on the TV or look at Twitter without hearing about people being called groomers for being queer in public, trans youth being denied puberty blockers, and other attempts to shove people back into the imagined Father Knows Best days that never really existed.

If even the leather community pushes polyamorous and non-binary people to the side for not being mainstream enough, where will those people find acceptance?

Lack of acceptance may drive these people away from the leather subculture, which in addition to being unfortunate for them would be unfortunate for leather society itself. Polyamorous and non-binary people have contributed much to leather society, and no doubt can and will contribute more if they were better included.

The leather subculture has never been about the “nice” people who just want to be accepted by the mainstream. Sure, they’re as welcome in leather society as anyone else. But the heart of leather society has always been people maligned and excluded elsewhere. It is hypocritical and illogical to have a subculture based in large part on a fairly rare sexual fetish, long thought of as disgusting and immoral by mainstream society, and to then exclude polyamorous and non-binary people for not being mainstream or common enough. That way lies a ”sanitization” of leather society that goes against the values the culture does, and should, stand for in terms of acceptance of people who do not belong to the sexual and gender mainstream.

Making room for people excluded from mainstream society has always been part of leather culture, and minority groups within leather culture have fought long and proudly and successfully for inclusion, including in leather titles. There are women’s leather titles, Black leather titles, and deaf leather titles, to name just a few. It’s time we gave polyamorous and non-binary people the same sort of chance. It’s time to remind ourselves that when mainstream society says “get out, freaks and perverts”, leatherfolk say, “you’re welcome here with us.”

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[Guest Post] Why Talking to Strangers Online Makes Me Feel Better About My Chronic Illnesses by Layla Jax

I strive to run Coffee & Kink as an intersectional space that considers all the different ways sexuality relates to the various other facets of our unique identities. That’s why I’m delighted to be publishing this piece on chronic illnesses and dating by Layla Jax (she/her). Disabled people are so often desexualised by society but, as Layla says, sexuality is for everyone who wants to engage with it.

As always, you can help support me in bringing in more brilliant guest bloggers by chipping in via the tip jar. More voices really do make this space better, and paying all my writers a small fee is incredibly important to me.

Amy x

Why Talking to Strangers Online Makes Me Feel Better About My Chronic Illnesses by Layla Jax

Chronic illnesses have been part of my life for the last eight years – longer, even. They have consumed every aspect of my being from my ability to work, to my social life and interactions with the world. More than that though, they have affected my dating and sex life. 

Living with chronic illness, you are constantly subjected to people who don’t quite “get” you. You may look healthy or “normal”, and therefore they assume your illnesses cannot be as bad as you’re making out. People struggle to sympathise with a body full of symptoms and no end in sight. Meeting a person in a dating capacity is no different because, unconsciously or not, people judge and feel uncomfortable at the prospect of dating a person who is not fighting fit. 

Moving to online dating, I thought I had found the answer. I could talk to people without them noticing any of my symptoms or see the worn out version of me behind a screen. Yet quite quickly this started to fall short, too, because eventually it had to come out. People wanted to know why I didn’t work or why I was still living at home and therefore my chronically ill self was revealed, and a lot of the time they would disappear without a second glance. For those who did stick around, the change in the tone of conversation would start, and the patronising would begin. 

Time and time again the devastation of being rejected would hit me and I was sick of being stuck back at square one. But more than that, the disappearance of the excitement I felt at being desired cut deeper than the idea of someone not wanting to take me out for dinner. It was then that it hit me: it wasn’t just that I wanted to date. I wanted someone to rip my clothes off, to throw me across the bed; I wanted to have sex. 

Swinging websites were first introduced to me through my kink-loving ex. Although at the time I wasn’t too interested, it has always stayed in my mind. Signing up to the website for the first time on my own, simple messaging was all that was on my agenda. I was nervous at first, embarrassed even, weighed down with the previous setbacks I had faced of people ghosting me and finding me unappealing due to the reality of my life. Even so, I was horny and I wanted to get the buzz I used to get before becoming ill, that feeling of being wanted.  So, I created a basic profile, added a pretty PG snap, and watched the likes and messages flood in. 

Message after message, with no judgement, filled my screen and suddenly I had all these people wanting to talk to me. People who knew nothing of my life and the limitations I had, who didn’t know me or my chronic illness journey, who weren’t interested about my lack of job or my living arrangements. They didn’t speak to me like a patient who didn’t know my own mind or a child who was still finding their way in the world. They spoke to me like the 30-something grown-ass woman I was, the one that had been hidden for so long. 

A 30-something grown-ass woman who has sexual fantasies and desires, who loves masturbation and being dominated as well as partaking in serious filthy talk, yet has never had the freedom to explore these things due to the bias found in the normal dating world. Suddenly I could talk about my body and what it needed, I could take part in – albeit virtual – simultaneous wanking and I could sext long into the wee hours of the morning. For once, I could feel like the sexual woman that I am, and not the woman I am perceived to be. 

Talking to strangers about sex online has helped me for so many reasons. It has installed confidence in me to know that there are people out in the world who can see past all the other bullshit known as life. On a sexual level, it has helped me find what my kink is through getting to know my own body and what turns me on, and I can now use my body as a vessel for pleasure and not just anguish.  Online I can be anyone I want to be. I can be the me who can escape and leave my troubles behind or the me I strive to be away from the pain and the fatigue – the real me. It has shown me there are so many reasons to love the skin I am in and the body I call home. It has awoken something in me no judgemental guy looking for their perfect person on a traditional dating site could ever do. 

Collectively, we should all understand that being chronically ill and/or disabled doesn’t take away our sexual instincts or desires. Sexuality isn’t just reserved for the healthy or abled-bodied. Take away the physical limitations and my time online is no different to anybody else getting their horny kicks. My mind works in the same way as a lot of people my age, as does the wetness between my legs. Where sex is involved we are all on an equal playing field, and I for one have no intention of forgetting that ever again. 

About the author:

Layla Jax is a chronic illness blogger and writer. Her passion is for writing erotica, exploring her new found fantasies, and educating people that disabled people can love sex too.

[Guest Post] Being a Submissive with ADHD by Redridingbrat

While I don’t have an actual diagnosis of ADHD, I’ve long felt that it’s something I very likely have at least to some degree. Whenever I see any ADHD content, from medical information to memes, I find myself going “yep, it me”. So I wasn’t altogether surprised when I also found this piece from my friend Redridingbrat (she/her) deeply relatable.

I feel very strongly that kink is for all consenting adults who want to engage in it. Many of the images we see online and in the media are reductive, exclusionary, and harmful. That’s why it’s so important to me to represent a diversity of experiences on this blog. To that end, I’m thrilled to bring you this piece from RRB on ADHD and submission.

As always, you can help me to pay more lovely guest writers by chipping in via the tip jar.

Amy x

Being a Submissive with ADHD by Redridingbrat

What comes to mind when you think of the perfect submissive?

Perhaps it is someone who is entirely focused on their Dominant, able to follow the rules and pre-emptively do whatever their Dominant might desire.

How does this change when you have ADHD?

ADHD, or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, is a medical condition that affects the way a person thinks and acts. This often presents as someone being inattentive, hyperactive, and impulsive – three things that can often clash with the pop culture view of submission. As a submissive with ADHD, I have had to work with my Dominant to make sure that my submission isn’t adversely affected by my ADHD.

One of the ways inattention in ADHD can affect a D/s dynamic is forgetfulness. Forgetting rules, forgetting tasks, forgetting where things have been placed… not something that is in the picture-perfect view of a “sub”! Thankfully, this is something this can be easily accommodated. Having the rules written up and displayed somewhere is a straightforward way of not relying on the memory. Having things placed in see through or open containers lets you quickly see where they are. A long-term solution is to have your Dominant help you create habits, so you do not need to remember a thing.

Another annoying symptom of ADHD is being prone to distraction. Sitting in a corner with no stimulation is my personal idea of hell. It isn’t just me who can suffer as a result of this, though; losing interest in an activity halfway through a scene can very quickly make a Dominant feel like they failed at a scene, and make the submissive then feel guilty for not being able to concentrate. This does not have an easy fix but there are things that help. Doing shorter activities can do wonders, as this gives less chances for the brain to wander off. Sensory deprivation can also help as it can force the submissive to focus on their other senses. The biggest things that can help are open communication and being self-aware. By letting your Dominant know when you are having a bad day focusing, you can reassure each other that neither is at fault when focus issues arise.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, another symptom of ADHD is hyperfocus; getting so consumed by a task that everything else is ignored. When a task is interrupted by something else, it can be extremely hard to bring yourself out of the task and into the new thing, regardless of how urgent it may be. In extreme cases, this can lead to ignoring the need to drink or use the toilet for hours on end. One thing my Dominant has found to help with this is simply asking “when will this be done?”, helping me to verbalise what done looks like as well as giving me a subconscious queue to start bringing myself out of the task. Having a set routine and structure also helps with this as it ensures that my body becomes accustomed to performing certain activities at certain time, with an external check (my Dominant) making sure it is adhered to.

Another symptom of ADHD that is often overlooked is internal motivation. I can often sit in “standby mode”, endlessly scrolling social media whilst given tasks go unfulfilled. Part of this is that a larger task can be overwhelming if not broken down into smaller steps, making it physically uncomfortable to get started. Something that can really help prevent situations like this is breaking a large task down into multiple smaller parts, while also being clear about what signifies completion of each part. For example, “make yourself presentable for me” can be broken down into: “Go shower, style your hair into a high ponytail, put on a full face of makeup with red lipstick, and wear the red underwear. I want these tasks to be complete by 5pm”. Rewards-based dynamics are also excellent for those who require the internal motivation to be turned external. Extra orgasms for doing a large task? Yes please!

Whilst I have spoken at length about the challenges of having ADHD, it does come with a number of positives too. Those of us with ADHD often excel when in “crisis mode”, meaning we can be very good if something goes wrong in a scene. ADHD folks are also creative in our problem solving, making us the perfect people to do puzzle-based tasks or mend broken toys. And ADHD people can also be more adventurous, making us the perfect partner for trying new activities in the bedroom.

ADHD can make submission hard. It breaks many of the pre-conceived notions of what a “good submissive” looks like. Someone who is forgetful, distractable, and hard to self-motivate is not the “ideal” that is written about in popular literature. However, there are things that can help overcome the barriers that may come up in a D/s dynamic. The main thing to remember is that D/s is not one size fits all. You can customise and change how your relationship looks. You are not a failure if it does not look like the glamorised novels. Anyone can be a submissive. All you need to do is identify as one and find someone who adores you and your style.

Redridingbrat is a switchy brat who loves nothing more than to engage her submissive side. Her main experiences involve rope, D/s and discussions surrounding disability within the kink community.