How To Deal With Imposter Syndrome When You’re Bi And Don’t Feel “Queer Enough”

Are you bisexual? Congratulations! It’s amazing, despite the occasional (okay, frequent) bouts of imposter syndrome that often enjoy creeping into any queer person’s brain. And while there’s no one way to be bisexual (the LGBTQ+ spectrum is, in fact, a spectrum), I’ve found that many bi people, myself included, have experienced some form of feeling “not queer enough.”

If you can relate, know that your feelings about being a “queer imposter” say less about you and more about our historically heteronormative environment. Bierasure, or bisexual invisibility, is a very real issue in which the existence of a person’s bisexuality is questioned, mislabeled, or straight-up snubbed. And the pervasiveness of this unfortunate social phenomenon can happen in subtle (but v frustrating) ways. 

When I grew up there were virtually no three-dimensional queer characters on TV. The glossy magazines that slipped into the hands of teen girls (Tiger Beat, J-14, you remember) were painfully heteronormative and made it seem like crushing on the opposite gender was the only course of action. At my high school, the two gay boys were stereotyped, the one lesbian ostracized. Forget anything in between. And so, I did what I thought all “normal girls” were supposed to do—I pursued boys. 

But in retrospect, the crushes I felt toward those who weren’t cishet males were equally frequent, just as deliciously lucid as the ones I experienced with those who were. I’m confident that my first inkling of bisexuality happened when I was 15 and at a sleepaway theatre camp, a breeding ground for sexual awakenings. I befriended a girl in my cast, and her frosty blue eyes and mermaid-length hair ignited foreign feelings of both desire and admiration. We spent nearly every afternoon with one another, sharing Chipwiches at the Canteen and counting stars from the picnic tables during evening rec. I knew she was crushing on one of the boys in our play, so I was nonplussed when she mentioned her ex-girlfriend. 

“Wait a minute,” I said, brimming with internalized biphobia and heteronormativity. “You can like both?” 

“Well, yeah,” she said. And while my ignorance likely shattered any remaining chance I had with her, something inside me began to shift. Though it would take me years to finally work up the courage to date girls, in the back of my mind, I knew I had the option. It wasn’t until a few years ago, after a gut-wrenching breakup with a man, that I decided to translate my bi-curiosities into action and start dating women. Through sex-positive dating apps, threesomes, and conversations with my newly formed bi community, I learned that sexuality was more nuanced and fluid than I had ever imagined. 

And yet, when I started dating a cishet man (again), I began to wonder if my queerness was no longer valid. Perhaps the media had been right and my bisexuality really was just a phase. I no longer believe this, but all of that internalized biphobia really got to me. 

Fortunately, I had already built a community of fluid folks, many of whom were also still navigating their place within the LGBTQ+ spectrum. Over mimosas and through DMs with other queer friends, I’ve learned that I was not alone. “Queer imposter syndrome” or feeling “not queer enough” affects more than just bisexual people, though that’s where most of my familiarity with it lies. Even the LGBTQ+ community, as wonderful as it is, often contributes to feelings of imposter syndrome through forms of “gatekeeping” or suggesting that a person needs to behave a certain way in ordered to identify as queer. 

Unfortunately, this combo of gatekeeping and bierasure are major contributions to imposter syndrome. Maybe you think your sexuality is less valid because your partner is straight, or because you’ve never hooked up with someone of the same sex. Maybe you’ve simply internalized the (very false) notion that bisexuality is nonexistent/a phase/insert other annoying and harmful descriptors. In whatever case, don’t believe it, bb. Bisexuality is simply being attracted not exclusively to people of one particular gender, and these other genders could include people of the opposite sex, the same sex, or non-binary or trans folks. You don’t need to hook up with anyone or date anyone to prove this attraction, because queerness isn’t defined by our relationships or our actions. It’s about our values, our identity, and how we choose to show up in this world. 

That said, imposter syndrome suuuuucks and is often linked to depression and anxiety, so it’s important to take it seriously. I’m only one queer person with one experience. Yet, I want to share some of the things that have helped me cope with not feeling enough and that have encouraged me to embrace my beautiful fluidity. 

Be skeptical of the stereotypes.

Like many (if not all) groups on the LGBTQ+ spectrum, bisexual people are often lumped into troublesome stereotypes. They are often labeled as exceptionally horny or more likely to cheat; our bisexuality is dismissed as a phase or being secretly gay. Even seemingly harmless stereotypes or microaggressions (like asking someone how they know they’re queer if they’ve never hooked up with someone of the same sex) can make you feel less valid in your sexuality. 

Ask yourself where you first heard this messaging and if it’s trustworthy. Most of the time, we learn of these stereotypes from television or word-of-mouth from someone who doesn’t know what TF they are talking about. 

Comparison is the thief of queer joy.

If you’re newly stepping into your bisexuality, there’s a chance you’ll compare the attraction you feel toward same-sex, trans, or gender-fluid folks to the desire you’ve previously felt to cis people of the opposite sex. If these attractions don’t feel similar, you might question your bisexuality. For example, when I went on my first real date with a woman, I also experienced waves of kinship and admiration that I hadn’t felt when I dated men. These foreign feelings sent me into a tailspin, and I thought, “maybe I don’t wanna make out with her.” (Spoiler alert: I did, we hooked up, and it was great.)

Remind yourself that bisexuality isn’t a combination of hetero and homosexuality—bisexuality, and any identity on the LGBTQ+, is its own very cool and unique thing. Ditch the comparison and be proud of yourself for being your own brand of queer.  

Find ways to build your queer community.

I’m not saying you need to go to a Pride event, get drunk on rainbow cocktails, and make out with as many people as you can find. (Though TBH that sounds sort of fun.) I mean get out there, either digitally or IRL, and try to connect with other bi or queer people who can empathize with your experience.

Though Instagram certainly has its shortcomings, social media is a tool for expanding your network and bearing witness to the various looks, lifestyles, and relationship configurations within the queer community. (@shegotthepink, @haleyjakobson, @most, @gabalexa and my account @cozycaravan are all very safe spaces for bi people!) Personally, I’m a fan of bi Reddit—it’s a super supportive online community where you can sync up with other bi ppl who will validate your experience. (Plus online anonymity gives off major Gossip Girl vibes.) 

If you’re ready to connect with people in the real world, then reach out to trusted friends or people you know in the queer community and see if they want to hang. When I started coming to terms with my sexuality, I realized that there were so many other queer folks out there who could empathize with my negative self-talk. We were able to validate one another, and then, in turn, ourselves. 

Tell the haters in your head to fuck off.

Okay, I know it sounds cliché and a little annoying—but you’ve got to validate yourself.  Combating negative self-talk is a practice, so try to get into the habit of acknowledging any self-criticism. When you have a thought in your head telling you that you aren’t queer or bi “enough,” take a step back and say something like “That’s interesting. Why do I believe that?” 

If therapy is available to you, finding a queer-affirming therapist or counselor can be wildly beneficial in building tools so that you can start to collect more methods in coping with bouts of imposter syndrome. I’ve also found comfort in unlearning my internalized biphobia by consuming books, films, and television shows with nuanced, queer characters. Euphoria, Feel Good, Insecure, and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend are all examples of shows that are demonstrating a more fluid (and honest) portrayal of queerness and bisexuality. 

I’ve found that approaching my negative self-talk with curiosity rather than judgment or shame offered some emotional distance from the thoughts, and allowed me to redirect my thoughts towards something validating. 

Ignore this entire list.

Honestly, ignore all of the advice I just gave you. I’m just one person and only know so much about being bisexual. You could literally do nothing on this list and still be “bi enough.”  There are no benchmarks for queerness, only queer people. In whatever messy, fluid, and beautiful ways we might exist. 

Images: Sharon McCutcheon / Unsplash

Why Being A Slut Is An Important Part Of My Identity

The first time someone called me a slut (that I know of) was at a bonfire party in high school, and she said it right to my face. Rude, but go off, Elizabeth (I never forget a name). I had just hooked up with two guys in one night (damn, I’m good), so technically she was right, but only in the way that I think the word to mean now. When she walked up to me and sneered, “slut,” it was clearly meant as an insult. And when I stood there and let the word slap me across the face, I did what I would do every time I got slut shamed for the next decade or so: pretended to brush it off, but deep down feel the sharp sting of being called something “dirty.” For years, I fought in vain to not feel hurt when I got labeled as a slut, but I spent so much time focusing on what this categorization of me meant to other people, and not what it meant to me. Once I realized that being a slut was something I could do for me, not for other people, the power these slut-shamers had over me fell from their hands and into my own. Being a whore is a journey, and I’d like to take you on mine.

I attended high school from 2006 to 2010, so slut shaming was still very much alive and well—dare I say, thriving. Those are the years I began my slut-journey, as I hooked up with randos left and right, and soon became labeled as the kind of girl you “hit it and quit it” with, but not the girl you ask to the homecoming dance and then date on and off until graduation.

On the one hand, it’s great that I felt I had the right to bone whoever I wanted, and on the other hand it f*cking sucks that doing so made people think of me as some sort of sexual object that didn’t deserve love and affection. I knew what people thought of me, and I took the pain it caused me, shoved it deep, deep down, and then pretended like I had replaced it with pride and a fun ‘n flirty “I don’t give a f*ck” attitude. Guys didn’t want to date me? Good! Boys are gross pigs. I’ll beat them at their own game and just use them for sex too.

But here’s the problem with that: I was the one being called a stupid whore for sleeping around, not the boys I was doing it with. They got to walk around like kings, confirming my reputation over high-fives and then deciding who was worthy of dating them. Meanwhile, I fought internal battles over whether or not I deserved love because I couldn’t seem to keep my legs closed. 

So, why did I keep sleeping around if it led to me feeling hurt and belittled? Lots to unpack there, babe, but I’ll give the short version. For one, I was aware of how unfair the double standard was when it came to me being labeled a slut for doing things guys got popularity points for. And that made me angry, so I reacted by defying my role as a girl who cares about the labels that were being unfairly assigned. But it was complicated, because in the end these boys did hold a power over me. They were the gatekeepers after all, and as much as I hated to admit it, I wanted them to like me. And the only worth I had been told I had was my sexuality. So I gave it to them, often hoping that would appreciate my “cool, fun chick who doesn’t care” persona and deem me “not like the other girls.”

In short, I wanted to show that I could play the game too, but was in denial of the fact that I was simply playing by the boys’ rules and feeling helpless/useless because I was never the one that got to call the shots. This all led to years of me acting as a slut for other people, mainly men. Being proud of my sluttiness became a defense mechanism I presented to other people, not something to hold onto for myself. But once I realized being a slut for me was an option, things began to change.

As I grew older, I discovered that my pleasure mattered. It seems obvious, but for me—and I think a lot of women—this concept takes a while to really sink in. It also helped that I started having actual good sex, masturbating more, and stopped putting up with men’s bullsh*t. Did you know if a guy is being a f*ckboy you can just walk away? Incredible. And all of these things brought me pleasure, whether it was sexual, emotional, mental, etc. I began to focus on other things that made me feel good: dressing up and feeling sexy, exploring my sexuality, forming my own opinions and saying them loud and proud, and not backing down when people tried to silence me. Slowly but surely, the word slut stopped being something I let people apply to me so I could act accordingly, and became something I decided for myself. 

The last time someone called me a slut to my face was when a man I had previously been involved with asked me to go home with him. I said no, I didn’t want to, and he responded by calling me a slut. This was a turning point for me. His “accusation” made no sense. I was being called a slut for not sleeping with him, when supposedly this word was given to someone who sleeps around. But here’s the thing: he was using this word because he was angry that I wasn’t doing what he wanted me to do with my sexuality. That’s what a slut really is: a woman in control of herself. He proved that the term is meaningless when applied to me negatively by someone else, because this thing that he was mad at—me doing what I want, not what some man wants me to—was something I could actually be proud of. Hell yeah I’m a slut, but not in the way he wanted me to feel like one.

I love being a slut. I love putting on my freakum dress and feeling my strength. I love having good sex, watching porn, sending fire nudes, masturbating, speaking my mind, fighting trolls on the internet, staying in and taking care of myself when I’m drained, popping my pussy at the club, voting, fighting stigma, taking up space, opening my mind, and so much more. I’m working on loving myself, and doing so proves that I am deserving of love, not because I’m no longer a slut like everyone told me, but because I am a slut, as I have decided, and I f*cking love that for me. 

Being a slut means embracing your power and doing what brings you pleasure, even when people tell you you don’t have the right. Viva la slut!

Images: Giphy (3)

A Breakdown Of Everyone Competing On ‘Are You The One?’ Season 8

After every season of Are You The One?, I think to myself while laughing maniacally, “I may have just eaten an entire large pizza all by myself, but at least I have my life together more than these Girls Gone Wild rejects,” followed quickly by, “SURELY they’re never going to renew this live-action dumpster fire again, will they?” And then every season I. AM. WRONG. Not about the pizza, of course, but definitely about the show getting renewed. Year after year, MTV continues to prove to me that they do not care one bit about ratings, critics, or decency standards, and keep on making a show where contestants regularly lick chocolate syrup off each other’s nipples. Not all heroes wear capes. And now, MTV is breaking barriers with season 8 of their drunk social experiment “dating show” by casting the first sexually fluid reality dating competition in the United States. Damn, MTV is over here making history, and ABC still refuses to cast the first black Bachelor. Ball’s in your court, Mike Fleiss!

So what does having a sexually fluid cast mean? I’m not quite sure, but I think it’s fair to assume that instead of just the men and women sneaking off together to the bare mattresses haphazardly thrown on the floor by an MTV intern, everybody will be f*cking. And now we get to take a look at this groundbreaking cast! I’m sure they’ll make history in more ways that just their sexuality—perhaps they will also be the first reality TV cast to all share the same STD. Or maybe they will cure cancer! Who can say? (They won’t cure cancer.)

Aasha Wells, 22

Aasha is from Miami Beach and just graduated with a degree in Communication and Journalism from Florida International University. She wants to be a TV journalist, so I really hope she doesn’t engage in a threesome in the boom boom room because that will probably hurt her chances of becoming a Today Show anchor. Not exactly something you want on your sizzle reel.

Amber Martinez, 23

Amber is cute, but I swear I’ve seen this girl on every single previous season of Are You The One?. Her name was definitely Kayla last time. And Alivia. And Cam. And Jenna. And you get the point.

Basit Shittu, 25

Now that I’ve sent Basit’s picture to my coworker for Mermaid Parade inspo, I can confidently say that Basit is the one everyone will go to for outfits when they throw the theme parties. Having a jungle party? He’s got something for that. Having a Beyoncé party? He’s got something for that. Having a ’90s party? He’s got something for that!!

Brandon Davis, 25

Brandon’s official cast photo is cute, but I have many, many questions about this photo I found on his Instagram: 

View this post on Instagram

? | seems like I’m always chosen, by romantics that are hopeless | ❤️ ____________________________________________ ?:// @shotbymichaelscottt

A post shared by Brandon Davis (@officialbrandondavis) on

Me after listening to “Old Town Road” one time. No but actually, I’m calling the police.

Danny Prikazsky, 27

So Danny is clearly the nerd of the group. But he did post a picture of an entire box of donuts on Instagram that he was rewarding himself with for hitting a weight loss goal, so I think we have the same disordered eating habits. Now I’m rooting for him. Danny, I hope you find love for all of us f*cked up eaters!

Jasmine Olson, 21

Jasmine revealed on Instagram that she’ll be on this season of Are You The One? by saying “I wasn’t out getting botox, friends!” I’m sure once your friends see that your perfect match is a dude or lady that works at a mall kiosk and has rage issues, they’re gonna wish you were just getting botox.

Jenna Brown, 25

Jenna looks like she wants to shove me into a locker. No problem, Jenna! I see you coming, I’ll just jump in here myself! Same place, same time, tomorrow?

Jonathan Monroe, 28

Okay news flash, Jonathan—you’re not Tarzan. You’re not even George of the Jungle. Get a f*cking haircut.

Justinavery Palm, 24

Justin is one of the many men from this season who has posted pics of himself on Instagram with a purse. They are clearly the accessory of this Are You The One? season. Well, purses or leather chokers, it could go either way.

Kai Wes, 26

Kai Wes looks like one of Edward Cullen’s cousins that showed up at the end of the series to take on that rival vampire gang. You’re about eight years too late, Kai! They already won!

Kari Snow, 23

Kari is a “Harley Cosplayer.” Oh, honey. Getting dressed up in a shirt that says “Daddy’s Little Monster” and paddling someone on the ass with a baseball bat to spice up your sex life doesn’t qualify as cosplay. But it does apparently earn you nearly 35k Instagram followers, so maybe she knows something I don’t.

Kylie Smith, 24

Kylie looks like a model, so she’s definitely the one everyone will be fighting over. Or at least the one they’re fighting to do a body shot off of.

Max Gentile, 25

Judging from his Instagram, Max appears to be very into the rave scene, which makes me think his personality has to be the stuff of my nightmares. He’s definitely the guy who took one for the team and smuggled the drugs through airport security.

Nour Fraij, 25

Nour is yet another Jersey girl in this cast. What is it with my home state and trashy reality TV? I promise you it’s not a law that we have to degrade ourselves on a Z-list show at least once before we hit 30. Or is it? Do I have a bench warrant out for my arrest?

Paige Cole, 21

Paige looks like someone who would lecture me for using a plastic straw. If you’re that against them, Paige, please don’t look in my top desk drawer. I’ve got enough straws wipe out all the sea turtles in the Atlantic. Whoops!

Remy Duran, 27

Remy is wearing a mesh T-shirt with a silver chain necklace, so that’s gonna be a no from me, dawg.

And those are our contestants this year! I’m skeptical that this will work, but excited to see it all go down in flames. Are You The One? season 8 airs on June 26th at 9/8 central. See you there!

Images: MTV (17), officialbrandondavis / Instagram

“Sapiosexual” Is The New Stupid Term For Straight People Who Want To Feel Special

I was just hate-reading Cosmo, as one does, when I came across an article called “6 Men And Women Get Real About What It’s Like To Be A Sapiosexual.” Because I enjoy angering myself (and because I continue to ignore my doctor’s advice to avoid stressful situations to keep my blood pressure at a healthy rate), I clicked on it. Now, I’m vaguely aware of the concept of “sapiosexuality” because I listed to one Ab Soul song one time. For those of you who don’t spend 16 hours a day on Tumblr aren’t familiar, a “sapiosexual” is defined as “a person who finds intelligence sexually attractive or arousing,” aka ALL FUCKING PEOPLE who would describe themselves as smart. Like, come on. You don’t find it attractive when someone is dumb as rocks? Congratulations, you’re a member of the not completely shallow section of humanity. Welcome. We’ve been here for years without trying to make up a fake-ass label for ourselves to seem “special” and “interesting.”

In case you’re like “well IDK maybe this is a real thing, who am I to judge” let’s look to the original article for clues as to why this is definitely not, in fact, a thing. And in case you’re wondering, yes I am qualified to judge given that I am God. Anywho, in this piece, Cosmo interviews six so-called sapiosexuals. Like, I don’t want to sound like a certain recently fired conservative talk show host, but if there was ever a case for the “special snowflake millennial syndrome,” this would be it right here. 

Cosmo starts with, “Sapiosexual isn’t just a buzzy word popping up on people’s OkCupid profiles, it’s a real thing.” Uh, okay. Compelling point you made that’s backed up with zero evidence other than this blanket statement and the word of a handful of millennials (we’ll get to that in a sec). 

First off, every person interviewed is between the ages of 22 and 26. That already should tell you the type of people we’re dealing with (*cough* hipsters *cough*). Here’s how a few of them describe what being a sapiosexual means to them:

Woman A: That I find a person’s intelligence, wit, grasp on academia, and worldly perspectives far more attractive than their looks.

You and literally everyone who’s gone to college.

Woman C: I identify as a sapiosexual, because to me talking about chemistry is the equivalent of talking dirty to me.

Great, you’re a nerd. Last time I checked, that’s not a sexuality.


And here’s them on when they first “realized” they were a sapiosexual.

Woman A: Definitely early in college when I figured out what I wanted to be in my life.

Woman B: Probably when I was 20 and had just left my high school boyfriend and entered the college hook-up scene.

Woman C: I think I was 17 when I realized it.

Man C: I guess I realized I was sapiosexual in college? That’s when I really started to date women from outside my friend circles and realized what turned me on other than looks.

Okay so…. two-thirds of y’all are in or about to go to college aka an institution of higher learning when you “just happened” to realize you’re attracted to smart people? And you don’t think that could be a product of being in an environment that’s focused on learning and not, ya know, because you fall under some new sexuality category that has only been “discovered” in like, the past three years?

On what makes someone attractive to them:

Woman A: I’m attracted most to men if they can engage me in debate-like conversations (whether it’s about who the best Mario Kart character is, or discussing John Oliver).

Oh, so you’re attracted to regular fucking people who can hold a conversation.


Man C: She needs to be cute, smart, and classy

In other words…

Man C: *Goes on record to Cosmopolitan to talk about how novel his sexuality is*

Also Man C: *likes the same qualities in a woman as every fucking straight guy ever*

Yeah, that’s all I’m getting into for today. This shit is ridiculous. From what I was able to glean through the power of context clues, every single one of these people is straight, and every single one is a millennial. How much do you want to bet they’re all white? Because I’m white and even I can recognize this is some grade-A level extra white people shit. Just say intelligence is important to you—it’s not that hard.

Look. Every smart person is also attracted to smart people. That’s because generally most people want to date other people they can relate to and talk to…this is not a new concept. Could one perhaps be so into intelligence it can border on fetishism? It’s possible. Does it warrant a special sexuality label and the self-righteous belief that you’re ~different than other straight people? Fuck no. You are just a garden-variety straight person. WHICH IS FINE. Accept it! Why not just enjoy your continued privilege of being able to marry whoever you want and not get harassed or attacked for being seen with your SO in public, rather than trying to make up new sexualities so you can feel edgy and misunderstood and slightly oppressed?

Girl Bye

Yeah, you can all kindly GTFO of here with this. And I recommend to you all that if you come across a dating profile that says “sapiosexual”, RUN. Or like, swipe left.

Dear Betch, Should I Stay In College To Get My MRS Degree?

Dear Head Pro,

This week has been crazy. I found out that I can graduate a year early with no minor or a semester early with a betchy BS minor or double major in something useful and graduate on time. Of course I go to a bug state party school but also hard af to get into. Like my major is marketing so not the toughest business major but not journalism. Obviously, I don’t want to graduate because I don’t want to be classified as an alcoholic. duh. I really don’t think I’m ready to give up cheap liquor and dumb fraternity boys, but I was also just elected to be on standards or my sorority aka I have to be boring now. But, maybe getting hired with a Master’s could be cool idk. Are there cute boys in grad school? The real problem is that my dad doesn’t love me enough and is only paying for four years of useful college. Of course, I called my dad in tears and he basically told me to grow up and make a decision on my own or go to grad school. Like i really just don’t know on this one. Graduate early and get another degree that my dad will help pay for or try and take BS classes and graduate with my class. Or do I double major bc is that betchy? Or should I change my major to MIS where all the smart frat boys are at? Oh and I’m no where near that MRS. degree bc apparently I like to have too much fun.


Should Have Gone for the MRS

Dear Embodiment Of Every Millennial Stereotype,

Yeah, I know you asked for the Head Pro but you got me instead. Surprise, bitch. So I’m super confused how you got from “graduating early” to “graduating with a Master’s.” Honestly I hope this letter is satire because you sound so unbelievably spoiled it almost makes me want to go back in time and somehow be a part of the Baby Boomer generation. Your dad is paying for four years of college, you should basically kiss his feet (or maybe something, IDK, less like what Ivanka Trump would do). Anyway, point is, your dad is right af; you need to grow up and make a decision for your future. Personally I would stay in college for 4 years and milk it if dad’s paying, but IDK. Given that you’re actually considering changing your major to be with “all the smart frat boys” (vom, are you serious?) I think maybe you need to like, drop out of college and take a job in the mines so you can learn some maturity and the value of a dollar.

Stay In School & Don’t Do Drugs,

The Betches


Dear Head Pro,

So basically I’ve never been single for more than 2 months since sixth grade (I’m now in my second year of university). I just broke things off, about a month ago, with my boyfriend I’ve been with for the past 4 years because I wanted to experience being single and just focus on myself.

A couple of months ago, one of my good friends (let’s call him Nick) introduced me to his cousin (Luke) because we all had the same classes together. At first I thought he could be gay just because of the stereotypical signs he gave, I know that’s wrong. But anyway, I started to feel sexual attraction towards him and eventually an emotional connection, creating more of a reason to break up with my boyfriend.

About a week after breaking up with him, I asked Luke how he felt about friends with benefits and he said it sounded like fun. I knew he was a virgin and actually never really hooked up with a lot of girls before so I’d have to take initiative here. I asked him if he wanted to study at his place and he accepted. I made my move that day and kissed him. Things started heating up and before I knew it, we were in his bed.

There was one problem.. He couldn’t get it up.

I was mortified because that’s never happened to a guy I was with and I thought he wasn’t attracted to me. After I left his place, I couldn’t help but wonder if he actually was gay. I needed to know for sure, so I made the effort to continue hooking up with him (each time he could barely keep it up long enough to have sex, but we did manage to do it once.. granted it wasn’t the best sex of my life. That plan failed because I still have no idea what’s wrong.

I told all of this to one of my close friends and she said that Nick would be the better match for me, which got me thinking. I realized that Nick is a really sweet guy and I might actually have feelings for him but I know it’s so wrong because I was hooking up with his cousin.

How do I stop myself from going guy to guy?


Accidentally in Lust


Dear Ann Perkins,

Y’all have got me fucked up. “How do I stop myself from going guy to guy?” – You just fucking don’t do it. End of story. It’s not that hard. Get some therapy if you need help realizing it’s okay to *actually* be by yourself. The world won’t end. Your uterus won’t dry up. I know it seems like a strange concept because you literally have not been single since childhood (sidenote: who are you people and how do you find a constant stream of men to date), but I promise you: you will be fine. Being single is actually fun. And for the record, just because a guy can’t get it up doesn’t mean he’s gay. He could be nervous. Or tired. There are literally a million reasons, aside from his sexuality, that he could have trouble staying hard.

Also, WTF, the way to find out someone’s sexuality (which really wasn’t/isn’t any of your business even though you made it your business) is not to “keep hooking up with them to see what happens.” That’s like, not very cool.

Be Cool

Bottom line is, if you don’t want to hook up with someone … don’t. I really have no additional advice for you. Sorry. Come to me with a real problem and then maybe I can offer real advice.