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Well If That Don’t Beat All

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Name: MissK
Gender:
Age: 43
Location: Everett
My longtime male sub wants Me to try something on him that he saw on a web site. I’m not sure at all that it would be safe for him. It’s infusing saline into his scrotum, until they are very heavy. Any advice?

OMG, there are perverts in Everett WA? Holy cow! Who knew?

I am of the mind, as probably are you, that needle play and blood sports are best left to trained professional doms. I have no way of knowing your level of proficiency in this area, but that’s not to say that one can’t learn to infuse if one really wants to.

I once watched a scrotal infusion demonstration with utter amazement. I don’t know how to do this myself, so I won’t offer you a tutorial. However, I did notice that there are a couple “How To” videos for this fetish online. But I can’t recommend them either, since I haven’t had an opportunity to review any of them.

But since you raised the question…and, like I always say, if there’s one pervert out there who gets off on somethin’, there’s a good chance there will be a shit load of other pervs out there who share that interest. So I asked around among my more sexually adventurous friends for their advice. The predominant message was that infusing sterile saline solution into a guy’s scrotum requires a lot of time, because it’s a drip process. And that it must be done in a sterile environment to avoid complications. A mishap can cause a serious infection, which is awfully painful and it can lead to the loss of the guy’s cajones.

First, ya gotta shave the dude’s family jewels. If you nick his sack; stop right there. Ya gotta wait, until the nick heals before you try again. The infusion bag or bottle must be warmed before the infusion begins. You’ll also want the environment to be warm too, otherwise his scrotum will get all pruney, don’t cha know.

The infusion bag needs to be hung approximately three and a half feet, or one meter, higher than his nuts. You’ll need to know how to set up the infusion apparatus and bleed the infusion tube of air. If you don’t know how to do this, then you are in over your head. Don’t attempt this on your own.

Of course, you have to disinfect his scrotum with an alcohol-free Betaisodona solution. There is some disagreement on how best, or where best to sting the needle into the nut sack. But one thing for certain, be sure the guy’s dick is out of the way. Two of my experts suggest stinging between the testicles.

YIKES!! I know; I’m such a big baby. But I really hate needles. I got to tell you, all of this is giving me the willies. But hey, let’s not worry about my feelings, this is all about you and your stinkin’ fetish, right? So, by all means, let’s press on…no pun intended.

I am told that you can sting just about anywhere on the scrotum, but if you sting into a blood vessel, the dude will have a burse. Probably if he’s into this particular fetish, a little bruising ain’t gonna bother him. But, ya absolutely got to make sure you don’t puncture one of his balls accidentally. This, I understand is very painful.

It’s recommended that the first time you infuse, you ought not use a whole liter of saline. Once he’s full, so to speak, remove the needle; firmly press your gloved finger on the puncture for a few minutes, then apply a little band aide. If you really loaded him up, don’t be surprised if he leaks a little. …Now there’s a pleasant thought!

Never reuse the needle and don’t just leave the infusion bag or bottle hanging around, this will only invite germs.

Finally, you’ll be happy to know that your man’s nut sack will return to normal in 48-72 hours, as the saline is absorbed into the body.

Good luck

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How To Talk To Your Doctor About Sex When You Have Cancer

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More people are surviving cancer than ever before, but at least 60 percent of them experience long-term sexual problems post-treatment.

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So you’ve survived cancer. You’ve endured brutal treatments that caused hair loss, weight gain, nausea, or so much pain you could barely move. Perhaps your body looks different, too—maybe you had a double mastectomy with reconstruction, or an orchiectomy to remove one of your testicles. Now you’re turning your attention back to everyday life, whether that’s work, family, dating, school, or some combination of all of those. But you probably aren’t prepared for the horrifying side-effects those life-saving measures will likely have on sex and intimacy, from infertility and impotence, to penile and vaginal shrinkage, to body shame and silent suffering.

More than 15.5 million Americans are alive today with a history of cancer, and at least 60 percent of them experience long-term sexual problems post-treatment. What’s worse, only one-fifth of cancer survivors end up seeing a health care professional to get help with sex and intimacy issues stemming from their ordeal.

Part of the challenge is that the vast majority of cancer patients don’t talk to their oncologists about these problems, simply because they’re embarrassed or they think their low sex drive or severe vaginal dryness will eventually go away on their own. Others try to talk, but end up with versions of the same story: When I went back to my doctor and told him I was having problems with sex, he replied, ‘Well, I saved your life, didn’t I?’ And many oncologists aren’t prepared to answer questions about sex.

“Sex is the hot potato of patient professional communications. Everyone knows it’s important but no one wants to handle it,” says Leslie Schover, a clinical psychologist who’s one of the pioneers in helping cancer survivors navigate sexual health and fertility. “ When you ask psychologists, oncologists and nurses, ‘Do you think it’s important to talk to patients about sex?’ they say yes. And then you say, ‘Do you do it routinely?’ They say no. When you ask why, they say it’s someone else’s job.”

Schover spent 13 years as a staff psychologist at the Cleveland Clinic Foundation and nearly two decades at the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center. After retiring last year, she founded Will2Love, a digital health company that offers evidence-based online help for cancer-related sex and fertility problems. Will2Love recently launched a national campaign called Bring It Up! that offers three-step plans for patients and health care providers, so they can talk more openly about how cancer treatments affect sex and intimacy. This fall, the company is collaborating with the American Cancer Society on a free clinical trial—participants will receive up to six months of free self-help programming in return for answering brief questionnaires—to track the success of the programs.

Schover spoke to Newsweek about the challenges cancer patients face when it comes to sex and intimacy, how they can better communicate with their doctors, and what resources can help them regain a satisfying sex life, even if it looks different than it did before.

NEWSWEEK: How do cancer treatments affect sex and intimacy?
LESLIE SCHOVER: A lot of cancer treatments damage some of the systems you need to have a healthy sex life. Some damage hormone levels, and surgery in the pelvic area removes parts of the reproductive system or damages nerves and blood vessels involved in sexual response. Radiation to the pelvic region reduces blood flow to the genital area for men and women, so it affects erections and women’s ability to get lubrication and have their vagina expand when they’re sexually excited.

What happens, for example, to a 35-year-old woman with breast cancer?
Even if it’s localized, they’ll probably want her to have chemotherapy, which tends to put a woman into permanent menopause. Doctors won’t want her to take any form of estrogen, so she’ll have hot flashes, severe vaginal dryness and loss of vaginal size, so sex becomes really painful. She’ll also face osteoporosis at a younger age. If she’s single and hasn’t had children, she’s facing infertility and a fast decision about freezing her eggs before chemo.

What about a 60-year-old man with prostate cancer?
A lot of men by that age are already starting to experience more difficulty getting or keeping erections, and after a prostatectomy, chances are, he won’t be able to recover full erections. Only a quarter of men recover erections anything like they had before surgery. There are a variety of treatments, like Viagra and other pills, but after prostate cancer surgery, most men don’t get a lot of benefit. They might be faced with choices like injecting a needle in the side of the penis to create a firm erection, or getting a penile prosthesis put in to give a man erections when he wants one. If he has that surgery, no semen will come out. He’ll have a dry orgasm, and although it will be quite pleasurable, a lot of men feel like it’s less intense than it was before. These men can also drip urine when they get sexually excited.

Why are so many people unprepared for these side-effects?
If you ask oncologists, ‘Do you tell patients what will happen?’ a higher percentage—like in some studies up to 80 percent—say they have talked to their patients about the sexual side-effects. When you survey patients, it’s rare that 50 percent remember a talk. But most of these talks are informed consent, like what will happen to you after surgery, radiation or chemotherapy. And during that talk, people are bombarded by so many facts and horrible side-effects that could happen, they just shut down. It’s easy for sex to get lost in the midst of this information. By the time people are really ready to hear more about sex, they’re in their recovery period.

Why is it so hard to talk about sex with your oncology team?
It takes courage to say, ‘Hey, I want to ask you about my sex life.’ When patients get their courage together and ask the question, they often get a dismissive answer like, ‘We’re controlling your cancer here, why are you worrying about your sex life?’ Or, ‘I’m your oncologist, why don’t you ask your gynecologist about that?’ Patients have to be assertive enough to bring up the question, but to deal with it if they don’t get a good answer. Sexual health is an important part of your overall quality of life and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to solve or prevent a problem.

What’s the best way for people to prepare for those conversations?
First, because clinics are so busy, ask for a longer appointment time and explain that you have a special question that needs to be addressed. At the start of the appointment, say, ‘I just want to remind you that I have one special question that I want to address today, so please give me time for that.’ Bring it up before the appointment is over.

Second, writing out a question on a piece of paper is a great idea. If you feel anxious or you’re stumbling over your words, you can take it out and read it.

Also, some people bring their spouse or partner to an appointment. They can offer moral support and help them remember all the things the doctor or nurse told them in answering the question.

So you’ve asked your question. Now what?
Don’t leave without a plan. It’s easy to ask the question, get dismissed, and say, I tried. Have a follow-up question prepared. For example, ‘If you aren’t sure how to help me, who can you send me to that might have some expertise?’ Or, ‘Does this particular hospital have a clinic that treats sexual problems?’ Or, ‘Do you know a gynecologist or urologist who’s good with these kinds of problems?’ If you want counseling, ask for that.

What happens if you still get no answers?
I created Will2Love for that problem! It came out of my long career working in cancer centers and seeing the suffering of patients who didn’t get accurate, timely information. When the internet became a place to get health info, it struck me as the perfect place for cancer, sexuality and fertility. Sex is the top search term on the Internet, so people are comfortable looking for information about sex online, including older people or those with lower incomes.

Also, experts tend to cluster in New York and California or major cancer centers. I only know of six or seven major cancer centers with a sex clinic in the U.S. and there are something like 43 comprehensive cancer centers!

We offer free content for the cancer community, including blogs and forums and resource links to finding a sex therapist of gynecologist. We also charge for specialized services with modest fees. Six months is still less than one session with a psychologist in a big city! We’re adding telehealth services that will be more expensive, but you’re talking to someone with expert training.

What can doctors do better in this area?
For health care professionals, their biggest concern is, ‘I have 40 patients to see in my clinic today and if I take 15 extra minutes with four of them, how will I take good care of everybody?’ They can ask to train someone in their clinic, like a nurse or physician’s assistant, who can take more time with each patient, so the oncologist isn’t the one providing sexual counseling, and also have a referral network set up with gynecologists, urologists and mental health professionals.

 

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How Lube, Dildos And Dilators Are Helping Cancer Survivors Enjoy Sex After Treatment

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Tamika Felder, a cervical cancer survivor, founded the nonprofit Cervivor to help fellow survivors navigate the jagged path back to sexual health.

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“I don’t know if readers are ready for what I’ve got to say!” Tamika Felder chuckles over the phone. “I just don’t think they’re ready.”

If you’re a cancer survivor, you should be, because Felder, 42, is an intimacy advocate who dedicates her life to helping cancer survivors navigate the oftentimes brutal path back to sex and pleasure. She was diagnosed with cervical cancer at 25, and spent the next year getting chemotherapy, radiation and a radical hysterectomy. She wound up with “bad radiation burns from front to back” as well as vagina atrophy, shrinkage and dryness, all of which led to painful sex.

“I knew at 25 this just couldn’t be it for me. I knew I wanted to have sex again, and I wanted to have good sex again,” she says. “It takes time, but it’s absolutely possible.”

Felder founded Cervivor, a nonprofit that educates patients and survivors of cervical cancer. She also works with both women and men struggling to regain their sexuality and intimacy post-treatment. Many survivors aren’t aware that there are items, exercises and treatments that can help them. Felder spoke with Newsweek about what people can do to experience pleasure again, even if it’s different than it used to be.

What exactly do you do?
I am not a doctor, I’m patient-turned-advocate who is passionate about the total life beyond cancer—and that includes the sensual side. Cancer treatments are saving our lives, but they’re also damaging our lives. I knew one guy who had to have his penis removed. That’s a life-saving surgery but how do you help that patient navigate life after? I’ve counseled women who survived gynecological cancer, whose vaginal canals meshed so close together that their doctor can’t even fit a speculum inside. What does that do for the quality of life for a woman like that? You have to offer alternatives! Maybe she can’t have penetration through the vaginal canal, but I expect the medical community—her hospital or cancer center—to help her navigate to a good quality of life. Because part of a good quality of life beyond cancer is your sexual self. Doctors have to talk more freely about that.

What if they don’t?
If your clinical team doesn’t raise the concern with you, you need to speak up. Email them or call them on the phone if it’s too hard to do it face-to-face. Find your voice. If something is not functioning the same way or how you think it should be functioning, speak up.

Now that you’ve identified a problem, what are some of the ways to deal with it?
Dilators: Whether you have a partner or it’s all about self love, dilators are important because they stretch out your vagina. Start with a small size dilator and move up. If you need something more, take a field trip to a toy store and get different sized dildos and vibrators. With some cancers, if you don’t use your dilators, your vaginal canal—or whatever is left of it—can close back up, so it’s important to follow those suggestions. Other people think, If I’m not dating now it’s not an issue. No! You need to deal with it now so when you’re intimate with another person you can be ready. Practice makes perfect.

Lubrication: If you’ve had any type of gynecological cancer, lube is going to be your best friend. After chemotherapy and especially radiation, your vagina can be very dry. Women deal with it as we age, but radiation causes you to go into menopause early. For cervical cancer, not only do you have external radiation but also internal radiation. Lube is important when you become sexually active again, because your body isn’t producing moisture on its own. Otherwise you’ll have abrasive sex—it will hurt to enter the vaginal walls.

You have to find out what works for you. Coconut oil is perfect for putting in your vagina and using as lube. A little goes a long way. I also like Zestra, an arousal oil. It’s a natural lubricant. For women who may have slow libidos, you put it on your clitoris and labia and experience what some people call a tingling experience. They call it the “Zestra Rush.” It’s a slow progression of warming up and you’re like, Oh! It still works!

Pocket Rockets or Lipstick Vibrators: These bring blood flow back to the vulva. I don’t care if you’re a southern Baptist from the Bible Belt, I want you to get a pocket rocket and take it with you when you travel and use that sucker so it can help the blood flow. There are lots of fun toys out there that can help. My favorite one is the Ultimate Beaver. Order discreetly online or take a fun field trip to an adult toy store.

Mona Lisa Touch: There are new therapeutic procedures, like the Mona Lisa touch laser treatment, that helps with vaginal rejuvenation. If you’re a reality TV fan like myself, you might think, it sounds like what the Real Housewives do! It’s not just something that rich people do. In many cases, insurance won’t cover it, but we’ve seen with the right doctor and the right type of letter, they’ve gotten insurance to cover it. Or, you may find a doctor willing to donate or discount services. Take a chance and write them, saying, “This is what happened to my vagina after cancer, and this is how you can help.”

Pay Attention to Pain: Make sure you heal properly. You may have healed on the outside but it doesn’t mean you’re healed internally. If you’re properly healed but still experience pain, have a conversation with your doctor.

What pitfalls should people be aware of?
A lot of people focus on what their body was like before cancer. I hate to say, “You have to give that up,” but you do in order to move forward. Your body has changed. Your objective shouldn’t be an orgasm, because maybe your body won’t do that again. It pains me to know that women have vaginal canals that have closed and they’re just living a life where they think they can’t have pleasure stimulated vaginally anymore. It’s not fair. They weren’t given the resources to help them along the way.

How did you redefine sex and intimacy for yourself?
In my own eyes and my husband’s eyes, I’m a perfect 10, but if I’m walking down the street, I don’t look like the magazine covers. I’m a plus size woman but I do love myself. It starts with that. Part of the homework I give men and women— When you look at yourself, tell me what you see. They always start out with the negative. I’ve never had anyone, no matter the age group, in all my cancer talk about sex and intimacy, who’s started with anything good. So I flipped it: Tell me what you love about yourself? You can go get these toys and procedures, but at the end of the day, the true pleasure comes from how you feel about yourself. That’s going to make your sexual self stronger. I’m not saying, don’t go for pleasure, but it really is how you feel about yourself.

Where can people go for more help?
Sites like Memorial Sloan Kettering and Dana Farber have amazing resources. Find out if your cancer center has a program to help cancer patients reclaim their sensual side, like this one at Dana Farber. Or find someone in your local area through the American Society of Sex Educators, Counselors and Therapists.

Complete Article HERE!

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The New Hanky Code Is an Actual Thing. Do You Know It Yet?

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The hanky code (aka. “flagging”) was a ‘60s and ‘70s era way for gay men and BDSM fetishists to covertly signal their sexual interests in an age when seeking and having gay sex could get you arrested, beaten up or fired (it can still get you fired, by the way). Though it has largely fallen out of disuse, several queer artists have created new hanky codes in new and interesting ways.

What was the old hanky code?

Different colored handkerchiefs signified what sex acts you wanted (red for fisting and yellow for water sports, for example) and the pocket position indicated whether you were a dominant/top (left pocket) or submissive/bottom (right pocket).

Here’s a simple hanky code color chart:

The old (simplified) hanky code chart

As the hanky code became better known, marketers began creating meanings for every bandana color imaginable (dark pink for tit torture and leopard print for tattoo lovers, for example), but it’s likely that few people actually knew the entire spectrum because — as you’ll see in the chart below — who could possibly remember all 65 variations or tell the difference between orange and coral in a dark bar?

The waaaaay over-complicated hanky code

What is “the new hanky code”?

In our modern age of legalized gay sex and social apps, the hanky code has become more of a fashionable conversation starter at leather bars rather than an active way to solicit sex. Nevertheless, around 2014, a queer Los Angeles art collective called Die Kränken (The Havoc) began discussing what a new hanky code might look like.

Incorporating the sexual inclinations and gender identities of their members, Die Kränken designed 12 new hankies and created an exhibition entitled, “The New Rules of Flagging.” Their new hankies included ones for polyamory, outdoor sex, the app generation, womyn power, Truvada warriors and “original plumbing” (which was either a reference to the transgender male magazine or to urine and bathroom sex).

You should see all 12, but here’s some of our favorites:

Bossy bottom

Queens

Queer Punk

In addition to displaying the hankies, Die Kränken gave surveyed and interviewed attendees to figure out what hanky best fit them. He then invited the attendees to perform a short, pre-choreographed dance demonstrating the spirit of each hanky. The Truvada warrior’s dance, for instance, had people mimic a scorpion crawling up their arm before confidently brushing it off and flinging invisible pills into the air.

We asked Jonesy and Jaime C. Knight, two members of Die Kränken, why their hankies were so much more explicitly designed than the in-the-know ’70s era hanky code. They more or less responded, “Because we wanted to design something cool.” Their handkerchiefs aren’t for sale, sadly.

“The New Hanky Code” is also a hilarious stand-up routine….

In his 2014 stand-up routine, gay comedian Justin Sayre, plays the Chairman of the International Order of Sodomites who announces, “The board is thrilled to announce that we will be bringing back the hanky code, but this time, it’s to talk about your damage.”

“Long have these issues laid in the shadows of a second date,” Sayre says, “but no more. We’d like to put it out there.”

In Sayre’s new hanky code, wearing a handkerchief in your right pocket means that you self-identifying as having a particular issue whereas the left pocket means you’ve only been called out on it, “so it becomes a playful game amongst friends.”


 
According to Sayre, white hankies now signify racists, gray equals boring, yellow is for commitment-phobes, baby blue means you have mother issues, pink stands for ingrained homophobia (i.e. “masc-seekers”), mustard means you drink too much, magenta is poor personal hygiene and so on for conspiracy theorists, those who don’t like The Golden Girls and others.

In Sayre’s version, people can make up their own personal hankies (like charcoal for workaholic and eggshell for undiagnosed) and also assign hankies to one another. “We ask you all to be kind when assigning colors to other people,” he concludes. “because remember: You’ll be wearing them too.”

… and there’s also a Hanky Code film for queer fetish fans too.

Hanky Code is also the name of a 2015 queer indie film made up of 25 shorts from different international queer directors that each explore a different color and fetish from the hanky code. It’s quite artistic, avant-garde and even a little graphic (the segment on piercing almost made our squeamish editor pass out), but it’s a fine piece of film that re-interprets the decades-old hanky code for a new age.


 
Complete Article HERE!

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Maybe Monogamy Isn’t the Only Way to Love

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In the prologue to her new book, What Love Is and What It Could Be, philosopher Carrie Jenkins is walking through Vancouver, from her boyfriend’s apartment to the home she has with her husband. She wonders at how the romantic love she experiences firsthand is so different than the model presented by popular culture and academic theory alike. “If indeed romantic love must be monogamous, then I am making some kind of mistake when I say, ‘I’m in love with you’ — meaning romantically — to both my partners,” she writes. “I am not lying, because I am genuinely trying to be as honest as I can. But if romantic love requires monogamy, then despite my best intentions, what I’m saying at those moments is not, strictly speaking, true.”

Her book examines the long, sometimes awkward legacy of philosophers’ thinking on romantic love, and compares that with a new subfield in close-relationships research — consensual nonmonogamy, or CNM. While singers and thinkers alike have been riffing on a “one and only” for decades, she argues that space is being made in the cultural conversation to “question the universal norm of monogamous love, just as we previously created space to question the universal norm of hetero love.” These norms are more fluid than they appear: In Jenkins’s lifetime alone same-sex and cross-ethnicity relationships have become common.

When I asked Jenkins to describe how it feels to have both a husband and a boyfriend — she rejects the “primary relationship” moniker altogether — she said that it’s like having more loving relationships in your life, like a close family member or friend. She and her boyfriend, whom she’s been with for about five years, used to work in the same building; he was teaching creative writing on the floor above her philosophy department, though they didn’t meet until they matched on OkCupid. While both men have met each other, they’re not close; Jenkins describes the relationship as having a “V shape,” rather than a triangle. Both helped in the development of the book: husband refining philosophical arguments; boyfriend editing the writing, and helping her to sound like a normal person, rather than an academic.

Still, CNM faces lots of stigma; even the study of it is stigmatized. Yet in the limited yet rich vein of research out there, the evidence suggests that it’s a style that, in some populations, leads to greater relationship satisfaction than monogamy. In any case, the researchers tell me, the insights into what makes more-than-two relationships work can be applied to any given dyad, given the communicative finesse required when three or more hearts are involved.

In a forthcoming Perspectives in Psychological Science paper, Terri Conley, a University of Michigan psychologist who’s driven the field, defines CNM as “a relational arrangement in which partners agree that it is acceptable to have more than one sexual and/or romantic relationship at the same time.” That’s distinguished from the “polygamy” practiced by some religious groups, where it’s not always clear whether wives can opt out of the relationship.

I was surprised to discover how common it is: A 2016 study of two nationally representative samples of single Americans — of 3,905 and 4,813 respondents, respectively — found in each case that about one in five people had practiced it during their lifetime. A 2016 YouGov poll found that 31 percent of women and 38 percent of men thought their ideal relationship would be CNM in some way. Other research indicates that around 4 to 5 percent of Americans in relationships are in some sort of CNM, be it swinging, where partners have sex with people outside their relationship at parties and the like; an open relationship, where it’s cool to have sex with other people but not grow emotionally attached to them; or polyamory, where both partners approve of having close emotional, romantic, and sexual relationships outside of the couple itself. People are curious, too: From 2006 to 2015, Google searches for polyamory and open relationships went up. Other data points to how sticking to the boundaries of monogamy doesn’t come easily to lots of people: A 2007 survey of 70,000 Americans found that one in five had cheated on their current partner.

Jenkins says that as a tenured philosophy professor at the University of British Columbia, she’s in a unique, privileged position to openly talk about being in a nonmonogamous marriage. She’d been interested in being in more than one relationship ever since she can remember, but it used to seem like some sort of impossible dream situation — she didn’t realize it could be an option in her real life until she was about 30. (She’s now 37.)

Jenkins met her husband, Jonathan, who’s also a philosopher, back in 2009, at a philosophy workshop that he organized at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland; they later got married in the same hall the conference took place. They took one another’s last names as middle names.

Now married for almost eight years, they talked about polyamory early on, though defining the relationship that way came later. As philosophers are wont to do, they soon wrote a bit of a manifesto about their arrangement. They observed that even if their wedding guests were woke in any number of ways — not batting an eyelid if a colleague was gay or bi, eschewing heteronormative assumptions, and the like — there’s still the shared assumption that a nonmonogamous relationship is less sexually safe and less committed than a regular ol’ monogamous one. “Even our very liberal pocket of our relatively liberal society is massively — and, to us, surprisingly— mononormative,” they write. “Acquaintances, friends, and colleagues are constantly assuming that our relationship, and indeed every relationship that they think of as ‘serious’, is a sexually monogamous one.”

To Jenkins, the biggest struggle with polyamory isn’t from managing multiple relationships — though Google Calendar is a crucial tool — but rather the strong, sometimes violently negative reactions that she gets, especially online. When I spoke with her by phone, she was struck by a comment to a YouTube interview of hers, where a pseudonymous user invited “everyone” to read her column in the Chronicle of Higher Education about having multiple loves.

“THIS WOMAN IS A DISGUSTING ANIMAL,” the troll wrote. “Every bit as twisted and queer as the Mormons with their multiple lives [sic]. This femme-pig is the spectral opposite of Trump; a far far left-wing freak that desires to completely overthrow Western Christian Civilization.” Jenkins walked me through a deep reading of the bile: Bundling in politics — the “left-wing freak” bit — with the monogamy norms signals to her that there’s a judgment of what it means to be a good person in here, since politics is about living correctly, collectively. Plus “if you’re an animal, you’re out of the range of humanity,” she says. She’s also gets a lot of “get herpes and die, slut” suggestions, she says, which speaks to the hypersexualization of CNM. Nonmonogamy leads to lots of sex, the presumption goes, and with that STIs, and it proceeds from there. The way news articles covering CNM tend to be illustrated with images of three or four people in a bath or bed doesn’t help, either.

“The way we normally think about romantic love, we don’t imagine that it’s entirely about sex,” she says. “For a lot of people sex is a part of it; if we’re just having a hookup or a friend with benefits, we don’t call that romantic love. When it comes to polyamorous relationships, if you’re in love with more than one person, the same applies — to fall in love with someone is not the same as to sleep with them. We’re clear with that distinction in monogamous relationships, but in CNM that distinction between love and sex gets collapsed.”

Researchers who have studied stigma around CNM have found lots. In a 2012 paper, Conley and her colleagues found that monogamous relationships were better rated on every metric by different sets of the population, including nonmonogamous people. When 132 participants recruited online read relationship vignettes that were identical except for one being monogamous and the other not, the CNM was seen as riskier sexually, more lonely, less acceptable, and having a lower relationship quality. People in CNM were also seen as worse with non-relational things, like making sure to walk their dog or paying their taxes on time. Amy Moors, a co-author on the paper, says it had some of the biggest effect sizes she’s seen in her research. Elisabeth Sheff, a leading polyamory researcher who left academia for lack of grant funding, now frequently serves as an expert witness in custody battles; she says that often a grandmother or a former spouse will find out that a co-parent has multiple relationships, be scandalized, and demand to take the kids — even though her longitudinal research, reported in The Polyamorists Next Door: Inside Multiple-Partner Relationships and Families, indicates that kids who grow up in polyamorous families aren’t any more screwed up than average American children.

That same paper finds that there were no differences in relationship functioning between monogamous and nonmonogamous couples. People in CNM had lower jealousy and higher trust — yet also lower sexual satisfaction with their partner. Polyamorists were more satisfied than people in open relationships, perhaps because it’s hard to block of feelings for people you sleep with frequently. Polyamorous people were a special case, with higher satisfaction, commitment, trust, and passionate love than monogamous individuals, though they had lower sexual satisfaction. CNM people also had higher sexual satisfaction with their secondary partners than their primary partners, though that difference fell away when controlling for relationship time, with primary relationships averaging three times the length of secondary relationships.

“Overall, the standard for human responses for relationships is habituation,” Conley says. “That involves a loss of sexual attraction, and we can tell that from stats from therapy. And to the extent that a couple is frustrated sexually, it spills over to other parts of life.”

There are other explanations for high satisfaction scores for polyamorous people, she adds. It could be that they’re just acting out a social desirability bias, given that they’re participating in a study about CNM and want the lifestyle to look good; it could also be that people who enter into polyamory have self-selected themselves into a hypercommunicative population — all the poly self-help books emphasize the importance the need to explicitly talk things out. “People interested in polyamory are more relationship-y than the average person,” she says. “They like thinking about relationships, talking about relationships. That’s great in monogamy, but needed in polyamory.”

All this suggests the kind of people that are the right fit for CNM. Beyond being relationship-y, a Portuguese study out this year found that people with a high sociosexuality, or disposal to casual sex, had less relationship satisfaction when in a monogamous relationship, but those effects disappeared if they were in CNM. Still, they were just as committed to their relationships — signaling that exclusivity and commitment may not be one and the same. Harvard sexologist Justin Lehmiller has found that people who are more erotophilic — i.e., that love sex — will be a better fit for CNM; same with if they’re sensation-seeking.

Amy Moors, the Purdue psychologist, has found that people with higher avoidant attachment — where you’re just not that into intimacy — have positive feelings about and a willingness to engage in polyamory, but they were less likely to actually partake of it. While a correlational study, Moors explained that from a subjective perspective, it makes sense: “When you have avoidant attachment, you like a lot of emotional distance, physical distance, time by yourself,” Moors says, which is not a fit for the relationship-y remands of a poly lifestyle. Also, there’s reason to believe that folks who have relational anxiety, and are thus sensitive to separation, might be prone to the jealousy that’s known to flare up in CNM, though it’s not like that doesn’t happen in monogamy, too.

What motivated Jenkins to write What Love Is, she says, was a gap — or silence — in the philosophical literature, that polyamory was rarely discussed or even acknowledged as a possibility. “Noticing these philosophical silences and denials, while simultaneously being made aware of how society at large viewed me for being a polyamorous woman, made me realize there was something important here that I needed to do,” she says. “To do it meant bringing my personal life and my philosophical work into a conversation with one another. The familiar slogan says that the personal is political, but the personal is philosophical, too.”

Two key themes emerge from reading the book: that love is dual-layered, with social scripts overlaying evolutionary, physiological impulses. And that the “romantic mystique,” like the feminine one before it, assumes that love is mysterious and elusive and corrupted from examination — a sentiment that protects the status quo. But with investigation, and conversation, the mechanics of love reveal themselves, and norms can change socially, and be tailored locally. Like Jenkins, you can custom-fit your relationships to your life — if you dare to talk about them.

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