DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’ve been reading your advice for a while now. I really appreciate how honest and direct you are with your advice while also showing compassion and celebrating the progress and work that people put into improving themselves. Although I don’t fit into your typical demographic, I thought I’d write because I think you give very sound advice.

I’m a middle-aged woman who has never married. I grew up seeing some pretty unhappy relationships, and as a result, I never placed romantic relationships at the top of my priorities. I have had several relationships throughout my life, somewhere I was in love, but I don’t think I’ve met the person who I wanted to spend my life with. To be honest, I’ve never put in a huge amount of energy and time to finding that person. I grew up in a conservative family and location where people place a huge value on marriage and family, so when I was a young adult, most of my friends and siblings were marrying in their 20s. Although I was seeing these relationships form all around me, I didn’t feel much pressure to follow that path (although I was briefly engaged when I was young). Instead, I placed education, career, and travel, at the top of my priorities. As a result, I traveled and lived abroad extensively for a number of years and also reached a place in my career that I had dreamed of and have found many opportunities to progress and find personal satisfaction in my career. I rarely feel lonely even though I have often gone years without a relationship. I’m an introvert, but my career is very much people-facing, so when I come home, I really love to have time alone. I don’t have much energy to meet new people who might be potential romantic partners. I have a great group of friends of over a decade who are a huge source of support, comfort, and fun socializing for me. I have a fairly close family who I spend a considerable amount of time with. So, loneliness is not much of an issue, although there are times I miss the physical affection and intimacy of a romantic relationship, and I also think about the benefits of the type of companionship a committed relationship brings.

Over the years, as I have ended various romantic relationships, most of my exes have either stayed in my life or have contacted me later to try to rekindle the romance. I’m not exactly sure why it is that I have rarely had a clean break from my exes, but I suspect it’s because I’m conflict-avoidant. In the relationships in which I have instigated the break up, I usually try to do in the softest, kindest way possible in that I take responsibility for things not working out and emphasize that I think they are a great person – not a lie, but also not the most direct approach. As a result, one ex stayed in my life for about a decade as a fairly close friend through multiple international moves, marriage, and children. Finally, he stopped contacting me probably because I was almost never the one to initiate any contact. Although he was a good friend, I also felt awkward about him being married as I had never met his wife and sometimes what we talked about seemed a quite personal. Another ex is related to a close friend, so it was difficult to never meet, but eventually I had to let go of the friendship because the level of contact and his efforts to rekindle things was not healthy for me. To be clear, although I have stayed friends or occasionally rekindled things with exes, I was never the instigator of these actions. I typically believe there is a good reason for a break-up, so getting back together is usually not a great idea. However, because I still had feelings for most of these men, there were many times when I found it difficult to say no, so I didn’t always follow my own advice.

So, my question relates to the most recent occurrence. About a year ago, an ex from 20 years ago contacted me completely out of the blue. I have had zero contact with this ex since we broke up 20 years ago. I was shocked to hear from him. He contacted me by text and we ended up talking on the phone for awhile. He suggested we get together sometime. I agreed (at the time, I didn’t feel like it was a concrete invitation – just something people say.) Well, a couple of days later he invited me to dinner. I was a little thrown off and also curious, so I agreed. We met for dinner. It was a bit awkward, but enjoyable to catch up because there’s quite a bit to talk about after 20 years. He told me he was separated (very newly). I didn’t expect anything to come from it except perhaps a casual friendship. We spoke on the phone and texted a bit after that meeting. He talked to me about the breakup of his relationship which seemed pretty messy. Then, a couple of weeks later he texted that he could not continue to stay in touch because of dealing with his separation, but promised to contact me when everything was over. I briefly responded that I understood, and that was the end of our contact. A couple of weeks later everyone went into lockdown due to the pandemic, so I really had no expectation of hearing from him again. I didn’t hear from him again until a couple of weeks ago – 1 year exactly from the last time we spoke. He just called to chat, I think. He gave me an update on his separation (still separated) and we talked about the pandemic and other updates. I think he vaguely said he’d call again, but no talk about meeting up.

Honestly, all of it is strange. Why contact an ex after 20 years? And why end that contact but call again after a year? I have zero idea what this guy is thinking. Of all of my exes, he’s probably the only one that I could have seen having a long-term, committed relationship with. When we broke up, it wasn’t my choice, but it was a situation beyond my control and to some extent his as well. I was pretty heartbroken about it. I always had a lot of respect for him, and he treated me very well. I’m not sure if we were in love, but I think I was very close to it with him. He’s possibly the only guy I’ve dated that my family really liked. While I don’t have any expectations of us getting into a romantic relationship, I think this contact has kind of messed with my emotions as I thought quite a bit about our time together and break up which I really hadn’t done in years.

I don’t know how to respond to him. Do I ask him not to contact me any more? Do I initiate more contact? Invite him to get together? Do I just let him take the lead and see where it goes? Should I ask him why he’s contacted me after all these years and then again after a year of hearing nothing? Because his separation is pretty new and he’s not divorced, I would not consider a romantic relationship at this point if that were even a possibility for him. I’m not sure about a friendship. I might be open to that, but it’s not much of a friendship if we only speak once a year. My typical response would just be to let him take the lead a see what happens, but in the past, this was my MO, and it was not a great choice. I feel like I need to make a definite decision. Stay in touch and take some initiative about what that looks like, and at the very least, talk about why he decided to contact me in the first place. Or completely end contact and ask him not to call again.

I would very much appreciate any insight into why he might have contacted me after all these years, and what I should do next.

Thank you.

Mixed-Up Exes

DEAR MIXED-UP EXES: So before I get into the meat of your question MUE, I want to point something out: while it’s true that your ex is usually your ex for a reason, that doesn’t mean that every break up has to be the end of contact forever, or that circumstances can’t change. While most of the time, going back to one’s ex is more about nostalgia or the comfort of the known, rather than a legitimate change in circumstance, sometimes it really is the case that things are different now and what broke you up before may no longer be in effect.

Also: if you do prefer to have a clean break… well, sometimes you have to be willing to be the one to enforce it. That doesn’t mean you need a confrontation, so much as a willingness to lay down a boundary. Occasionally that means blocking and muting, so that they don’t have access to you except when you want to allow them to have it.

Now with that out of the way, let’s talk about the experience you’ve been having with your ex from 20 years ago. I think it’s pretty clear why he reached out after 20 years: he’s newly separated. That’s a fairly common trigger for folks — frequently, but not exclusively men — to reach out to an ex. Sometimes it’s a matter of wanting the comfort of the familiar, especially when the golden haze of nostalgia has filed down any rough ages, polished the early days when everything was wine and roses and faded memories of the bad parts. Other times, it can be a matter of wanting to connect with someone from their past as they try to figure out who they are now. They may want a (presumably) sympathetic ear to discuss things… and if that happens to lead towards sex, too, well, hey, bonus! And other times, it can be the realization that they miss their ex and just want to see what’s up.

Similarly, I think it’s fairly clear why he went radio silent for a year after you met up: it’s a combination of a messy break up and, y’know, a global pandemic. Without details of just how messy that break up was, it’s impossible to go into specifics, but it’s entirely possible — likely, even — that his being in contact with an ex or anyone that could be seen as a potential new partner was making an ugly break up even uglier. If, for example, there were issues around cheating or alienation of affection, being seen with someone else could be used against him, especially if he was going through divorce proceedings rather than just a break up.

But even if being in contact with you didn’t mean that there were legal issues, an ugly break up is emotionally draining. He may well have been having to pull back from a lot of things in order to deal with all of the headaches, heart breaks and logistical nightmares of ending a long-term relationship. Not having the emotional bandwidth to renew a friendship is entirely understandable under the circumstances. And then the lockdown happened and honestly, that has been even more traumatic. Even for folks who were in fairly secure circumstances, this has been a year-plus of continuous low-grade trauma. A lot of folks have had much less room or energy to deal with much outside of getting through each day as best they could. Hell, I can’t count the number of people I know personally who haven’t been able to do so much as read, never mind try to stay in contact with folks outside their immediate vicinity.

Now that the vaccine is here, eligibility is opening up and we can see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, people are starting to have hope again. They’re starting to feel like they’re returning to something approximating normal. That makes it that much easier to reach out again and try to reinitiate contact.

What do you do from here? Well… that all depends on you, really. What do you want from this, if anything? Do you want to see if there’s a potential for friendship? Are you even remotely interested in the possibility of starting a new relationship with him? Or is it more that you feel as though you should continue staying in contact with him? You can take time to decide; there really isn’t a rush. He was out of contact for 20 years and then another year afterwards; a couple days or weeks while you sort out your feelings isn’t going to be the make-or-break moment. And if he can’t stand you taking your time after he took all of his… well, then that tells you what you needed to know about him, doesn’t it?

And on a similar note: just because you’re not in constant contact doesn’t mean that you aren’t friends. Some friends go for long stretches of time without talking; that’s just their thing. Sometimes they’re the kind of friends who can pick up like nothing happened; other times, it’s not a deep friendship, but still a friendship. But considering everything, I don’t think you’re likely to run into year-long stretches without talking. The break up and COVID are pretty damn understandable extenuating circumstances.

But hey, even if you decide you’re open to seeing where things may go — platonically or not — you’re not locked into that decision. You can decide that, as it turns out, this is a bigger bundle of NOPE than you previously thought and go back to having no contact if that’s what you want. This isn’t The Defiant Ones; you’re not latched together once you decide to see about possibly being friends again.

So give yourself a little time, decide what you want and then this time, resolve to take the reins instead of letting someone else do it for you. Be willing to focus on what you want from this relationship — if anything — and advocate for your own interests and needs.

Good luck.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: My boyfriend and I have been in a relationship for about 3.5 years and we’ve been through a lot together and I like to think it’s a pretty solid relationship overall.

However in the last year our sex life has suffered, namely because I haven’t wanted it or enjoyed it. Sorry to be TMI, but I often struggle to get physically aroused, can have limited sensation ‘down there’ or when I can feel things it’s often, at best, uncomfortable and, at worst, painful.

I have always tried to be open and honest with him about these issues and, at first, it caused arguments as my boyfriend thought I might no longer be attracted to him and/or wanted to be with someone else (feelings based on bad experiences in his previous relationships). But that’s very much not the case and I’d always try to talk it out with him and reassure him as best I could.

Towards the start of 2019, I went back on antidepressants for a depressive episode. And at first I thought this was what was causing my problems. And so when it got to May this year and I was having physical health issues (which me and the doctor thought were side effects of the antidepressants) and I had to come off them, I was hopeful that at least my sex problems would be resolved.

They were not. Plot twist – it wasn’t the anti depressants. With the same physical issues on going (and seemingly connected to the sex problems) I was referred to an endocrinologist and found out I have a suspected tumour. IN MY BRAIN.

Ok. Ok. So it’s not exactly in my brain but just under it. On my pituitary gland. And it’s most likely benign. But as I’m sure you can understand, it’s scary for me nevertheless.

I’m currently waiting on an MRI scan (I’m in the UK so going through the NHS) to confirm the diagnosis and start treatment, but with the pandemic and lockdown I don’t know when that will be.

My boyfriend is always very supportive of me through the hospital appointments and always looks after me when I’m not feeling great. I know he’s worried for my health and just wants me to get better. I don’t want you to think he’s completely selfish and his only concern is the fact he’s not getting any!!

I just don’t know how to handle our sex life (or lack of) in the meantime. Sometimes I will try sex with him in the hopes it will feel at least okay, but it sucks. We try to keep an open and honest conversation about the subject but we both get frustrated that there’s nothing we can really do while we wait for the doctors to sort out the tumour.

I do worry this could be the thing that ruins an otherwise amazing relationship.

What should I do?

Can’t Get There

DEAR CAN’T GET THERE: First of all CGT, I’m glad to hear that your tumor is apparently benign. It’s still a terrifying situation to be in, but that at least takes a little bit off your emotional plate.

Second of all, I want to say that I’m glad your boyfriend is being so supportive and that you and he have talked things through so that he understands that this is a physical issue, not one of interest. I’m also glad that it seems clear that you’re both on the same page — both about trying to find a solution and about wanting to make things work in the meantime.

But it does seem as though that part of the issue here comes down to how you define sex. One of the things that I’ve seen fairly often when people struggle with physical pain during sex or who have difficulty having sex is that their definition of sex starts and ends with “penetration”, and “penis-in-vagina penetration” specifically. And while that’s understandable — straight folks, especially straight men get taught this as gospel — that limitation may be both the cause of and solution to some of the challenges here.

One of the things about sex that we tend to lose track of is that it’s not all about “tab-a-into-slot-b, repeat”, it’s about desire, intimacy and contact. When done properly, it’s about the shared experience, not just what went where until someone got off. When you hold that in mind, it’s much easier to expand your definition of what sex is and what it can consist of. Making that shift not only means that you make it easier for you and your boyfriend to have great sex, but it encourages the two of you to get creative and adventurous. When you have to think a little outside the box (er… as it were), it’s much harder to fall into the rut of the same-old, same-old and get bored of both sex and each other. You’re actively incentivized to try new things together, to experiment with things you might not otherwise have tried and — importantly — to be mindful of what you both get out of each particular encounter. That helps keep the spark alive and vital and makes sex something creative and participatory instead of something you do on automatic; that, in turn helps keep your relationship strong and fulfilling

Treating oral sex, for example, as sex, rather than just as foreplay or as a “instead of PIV” option, means that you’re both encouraged to do more with it — playing with stopping and starting, different textures and sensations, orgasm denial, and so on. Other forms of sex — anal sex, mutual masturbation (assuming that clitoral stimulation works for you, even if penetration doesn’t), frottage, etc. give you more options as well. You can also incorporate toys as part of being intimate with one another. Maybe an external vibrator would work for you. Maybe your boyfriend might be interested in prostate play or using a plug during other forms of sex. And if you or your boyfriend want something more akin to traditional penetration… well, that’s still on the table, in a way. You can use masturbation sheaths like Fleshlights or Tengas during sex, instead of treating them as something you use instead of sex with a partner. Using it on your boyfriend — controlling it by hand or holding it between your thighs, say — can help give the sense of riding or being ridden that you both may be missing.

And if getting the tumor treated does help with issues surrounding penetrative sex… well, then traditional penetration can be part of your sexual repertoire, rather than the primary focus. Getting in the mindset of expanding what sex is to you can make traditional penetration even better for both of you because you’ll have all these other tools to help enhance the holistic experience.

Here’s to hoping that your treatment start soon, go smoothly and that you have a complete and full recovery with no complications.

And please, be sure to write back and let us know how you’re doing!

Good luck.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m a young gay man in his 20’s, and although I’ve had a sometimes rocky start to life (like many other folks around me), I’ve been able to get through it largely intact, and now have a pretty good path ahead of me.

I think I’ve already dealt with a good chunk of negative thoughts and fears that used to hang heavily over me – I used to fear I was unlovable as an awkward, overweight, nerdy Asian guy – but with successes in therapy, hobbies, friends, hookups, and my career, I’ve been able to begin to see myself in a new light. Although of course, I’m still dealing with remnants of it (your typical duo of depression and anxiety, maybe some self-hatred still in there).

There’s one big thing that jumps out at me, and it’s becoming more and more of a “hot topic” now, and I haven’t been able to figure it out productively. I… haven’t seen a single East Asian man in real life that I’ve been attracted to.

Now let me get this clear; I’m East Asian. My parents are East Asian. I have East Asian best friends, I went to school with many East Asians, whatever. I… may not be a purely aracial being, but certainly I’ve done a lot to try to stamp out racism and racist thoughts from my life. The websites that talk about this suggest that sexual racism means “you think Asians are effeminate” or “you think Asians are obedient and submissive” or something else; I don’t really think any of that.

To me, most East Asian guys I see around me or in media (here or overseas) are just… about as sexually attractive as I find women (I.e. not at all, and sometimes sexually repulsive). I’ve tried!! But after a few times, you kinda get the feeling it doesn’t work for you, and you don’t want to waste the other guy’s time either.

Even when I was younger (discovered porn around 10-12), although I have (though rarely) looked at Asian guys in porn, it was never really what I focused on.

I assume it has something to do with the media exposure I had – where white or Middle Eastern or Latino folks were ‘normal’, Black folks were often there just for the cock, and…. I’m not even sure what the western porn industry has used Asian MEN for, as a category.

But beyond that, I had my fair share dealing with negative experience with East Asian adults and peers as a kid too, especially since that sometimes formed a bulk of by upbringing. Young looking guys are still off-putting to me in general cuz of the whole bitter taste school left in me, lol.

But how do I even begin to fix this? Websites that talk about sexual racism never talk about fixing it. They just say guys that are racist are trash and you should stay away from them. Unfortunately for those folks, my depression did not win, and I continue to exist… And while “exposure therapy” might work, well, it’s hard to date someone you’re not physically attracted to when you know they’re physically attracted to you, and it’s even harder to… have sex with them (if I definitely want to say no, but force myself to say yes…). Beyond that, I don’t think it’s right of me to subject someone else to dating someone who’s just trying to “fix their racist preferences” through exposure. Otherwise, I still get plenty of exposure to Asian men through work, current (non-sexual!!!) friendships (that are meaningful and important to me), and life in general.

Got any tips, or perhaps words of wisdom? I do definitely wish I could expand my dating pool by broadening what I’m able to find attractive… but I also do wish I could address this nagging (and increasingly strong) guilt about having racial preferences / being racist in dating, especially in these times.

Want To Expand My Interests

DEAR WANT TO EXPAND MY INTERESTS: So this is a layered and somewhat complicated question because of just how much it ties into anti-Asian sentiment and racism. We aren’t even a month past the spree shooting in Atlanta, where a young man murdered eight people, including six Asian-American women. This can seem like a bit of an odd digression for your question, but the recent spate of racist violence against Asian-Americans is part and parcel of how western culture and America in particular has treated Asian people through history… and that history ties directly into your question.

Now, keep in mind: I’m a straight white guy, so I’m emphatically not going to have the same perspective as someone who’s East Asian and experiences this every day. Over the course of doing the research to answer your question, I’ve found a number really excellent articles, essays and academic papers by various folks who do have experience in this area; I’ve included shortened links wherever I could, so I recommend checking them out.

A line from your letter leapt out at me: “I used to fear I was unlovable as an awkward, overweight, nerdy Asian guy” which I think may well go straight to the heart of your question. The fact that you had this list of things that you feel make you unloveable stands out, and I have to wonder if part of the issue is having absorbed and internalized a lot of negative messaging around your identity. After all, when you hear that “X are unlovable, they’re awful and nobody wants them” constantly, that’s gonna f--k with your head. And considering the history of how America and western culture has treated Asians in general and Asian men in particular, it really stands out.

One of the hard truths about our society is that for centuries, Asian men have been devalued, desexed and emasculated. Asian men — gay, bi/pan and straight — often have the hardest time on dating apps (https://bit.ly/3rT0nNF); it’s not uncommon to see profiles on Grindr that specifically say “No Asians” (https://bit.ly/3dUscR5). The idea of an Asian man being a sexual being is often met with resistance, even laughter from folks. In 2017, Steve Harvey devoted a segment of his show to making jokes about the idea that Asian men were attractive. In 2019, actor Simu Liu shared a post on his Instagram about an experience he had on the talk show The Social. His talking about sex and sexual stereotypes and how harmful they were prompted laughter from the audience. The idea that he had anything to share about being a sexual person was seen by the audience as being humorous, and you can see just how much that reaction upset him.

Those tropes and believes are incredibly pervasive, and they can affect people who you would think would never buy into them in a thousand years. You’re not the only person who’s struggled with questions of attraction to folks of your own ethnicity. In her essay “For Years, I Was Vehemently Against Dating Asian Guys—Even Though I’m Chinese” (https://bit.ly/2PEWBKW), Madelyn Chung talks about her experiences with having internalized problematic messaging about Asian men and how that affected her dating life. Chung writes very candidly about how social messaging, exposure and messages about identity directly affected who she considered attractive and who she was willing to date and how she worked to break out of that mindset. It’s a piece that I think would be well worth your time to check out.

I think you hit the nail on the head when you mention that you think that it has to do with media exposure. Asian men have long been desexualized by the media. When an Asian man — regardless of whether he’s South Asian, East Asian or Southeast Asian — is on screen, the odds are that he’s going to be bound up in specific tropes: nerdy, intellectually or technically proficient, unaggressive or even submissive, less socially adept and frequently asexual. When they are sexual, it’s often portrayed for laughs, with equal parts being oversexed and laughably clueless in how to actually find a partner; Taj in Van Wilder and Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles are classic examples of this trope. On the other side of the coin, the other dominant stereotype of Asian men was The Yellow Peril — the foreign, exotic Other who was a danger to the virtue of innocent white women.

These tropes didn’t come out of nowhere. They were quite literally hundreds of years in the making.

It’s not exactly a secret to say that America’s history of treating people of color is abominable; you barely have to crack a text-book to see that. But a lot of issues surrounding the history Asian immigrants in America often gets glossed over, especially with an eye towards how that history continues to influence the way that Asian men and women are perceived here. In the 1850s, Chinese immigrants were imported to the US in order to provide cheap labor to build the transcontinental railroads, often being tasked with the harshest and most dangerous duties like laying demolition charges, in the worst and most treacherous parts of the country. But when the railroads had been completed, many of the immigrants remained, forming communities trying to build lives for themselves. Because immigrant labor was cheaper, Chinese workers were in high demand… which left many other laborers out of work. Xenophobia and the anger about competition for jobs lead to a number of laws, including the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 — which forbade further immigration from Chinese nationals.

This was, in no small part, the beginning of the (deliberate) emasculation of Asian men. As Dr. Chiung Chen points out in her paper “Feminization of Asian (American) Men in the U.S. Mass Media: An Analysis of The Ballad of Little Jo” (https://bit.ly/2Q6rvvK), the cultural contrasts between American and Chinese men played a part; the differences in fashion, builds and even jobs all created the idea of this cultural oddity — men who dressed and behaved in ways that seemed distinctly feminine to Westerners.

The Chinese Exclusion Act — and its precursor, the Page Act of 1875 — had a number of knock-on effects that contributed to the cultural emasculation of Asian men. Because the 14th Amendment introduced birthright citizenship, people were terrified that Chinese immigrants who settled down in America would have children and establish toeholds as natural-born citizens. To prevent this — and to keep the laborers who were already here from sending for their families — the laws made it next to impossible for Chinese women to immigrate to the United States under the best of circumstances. It was also incredibly easy to deport Chinese women who were already here; anyone who was seen as being involved in any form of sex work, regardless of circumstances, was subject to immediate deportation. Meanwhile anti-miscegenation laws meant that Chinese and other East Asian men were forbidden from dating or marrying women of other races. As a result, Chinese and Chinese-American men were quite deliberately locked out of relationships or building families.

But that didn’t stop the fear that Asian men were a sexual threat; this belief would continue to cause pain and misery for many, many others. Filipino men in California, for example, were seen as “dangerous”, because of the perception that they were better dancers and lovers than white men. In the Taxi dance halls — where white female employees would dance with male partners for a fee — Filipino men were prized customers because of their skill as dancers and because they didn’t treat the dancers as lesser. This reputation lead to the Watsonville Riots of 1930, as well as laws like the Tydings-McDuffie Act — a repeat of the Chinese Exclusion Act, except directed at Filipinos.

The constant propaganda against Asians, and Asian men in particular, played to all the usual hits: the Exotic Predator With a Taste For White Women but also portraying Asian men as weak, foolish and effeminate. Even the “model minority” myth — which was used in part to fracture support between Asian-American and African-American communities — played down the sexuality of Asian men even as it played up traits like intelligence, hard work and the pursuit of educational excellence. It was a very deliberate attempt to neutralize an imagined threat, with a false “menace” that was both an ever-present danger but also too laughable to see as anything other than a nuisance.

This backdrop of hundreds of years of propaganda, racism and xenophobia directly controlled how Asians — and Asian men, in particular — were portrayed in culture. Until the 1960s and 70s, the few Asian heartthrobs like Sessue Hayukawa were restricted to heavily stereotyped Exotic Forbidden Lover roles, if that. Bruce Lee was allowed to be a bad-ass (eventually), but not portrayed as a sexual being. Jet Li’s meteoric rise in American movies was counterbalanced by the fact that he almost never has a love-interest. Hell, the fact that The Walking Dead’s Glen — played by Steven Yeun — is not just a valued ass-kicking survivor of the Zombie Apocalypse but has a long, happy and sexual relationship with Maggie that’s taken as normal is remarkable… and that was in a show that debuted in 2010.

Now I bring all of this up because, honestly, nobody is immune to propaganda or marketing. When you’re exposed to a message over and over again, it’s very, very hard not to take that messaging and internalize it, even when you may recognize intellectually that it isn’t true. I mean, you kinda reference that here, with regards to porn tropes : “where white or Middle Eastern or Latino folks were ‘normal’, Black folks were often there just for the cock”

But when you internalize these messages, especially ones involving your own identity, it can lead to tragedy. In the incel community, South Asian and East Asian men are referred to by various slurs and the idea that women are attracted to them is considered to be the highest insult… even among incels who are themselves of South Asian and East Asian descent.  Part of what motivated Elliot Rodger to violence wasn’t just his being an incel, it was self-loathing. Rodger was half Chinese on his mother’s side and saw his Asian heritage as a hideous flaw that kept him from ever finding the love and sex he supposedly deserved.

And to bring it back around to your question: this history is why I highly suspect that the continuous message of “Asian men aren’t sexually desirable” has been an influence on who you date and who you find attractive. The good news is that this is starting to change. Shows like Warrior have had no problem showing stars like Andrew Koji, Joe Taslim and Hoon Lee as very sexy motherf--kers. Crazy Rich Asians, likewise, has helped people reconsider attractiveness of Asian leading men by challenging and disrupting stereotypes. Even K-Pop sensations like BTS have proven just how desirable Asian men can be. In fact, Adinda Saraswati Mustafa Putri and Adriana Rahajeng Mintarsih have a fascinating paper (https://bit.ly/39QADLI) about the way that BTS challenges not just the idea that Asian men are sexy, but toxic and restrictive ideas about masculinity in general.

The not-as-good news is that, on the personal level, trying to change a lifetime of messaging adopting problematic ideas around Asian male sexuality can be goddamn hard. Sexuality and sexual attraction isn’t just a light-switch with an on or off state, separate from everything else; it’s part of our holistic selves, intertwined with everything about us. Trying to understand who we’re attracted to and why can often result in trying to untangle a knot of values, identity, even self-worth. Part of Madelyn Chung’s essay, for example, talks about how much her own comfort with her Chinese-American identity affected her attraction to other Asian men. Picking apart this knot for you may mean looking at your own sense of value or desirability. It could well be that your sense of your own desirability gets caught up and externalized as a lack of interest in other Asian men. Or it could be that dearth of movies, television shows, books and games that let Asian men be as hot and as sexualized as everyone else.

One of the things I would suggest is to spend time in spaces and with media that don’t just acknowledge but celebrates how attractive Asian men can be. Photographer Andrew Kung, for example, has a two part photo book called “The All-American”; it focuses not just on Asian-American identity but the beauty and intimacy of Asian-American men. These portraits and explorations of beauty aren’t just “hubba hubba look at those abs” but bring a nuanced and personal view, portraying the full spectrum of attractiveness, including the sorts of intimacy and connection we associate with love and connection.

It may also help to spend more time with folks in Asian LGBTQ spaces and focus less on the dating or sexual aspects and more on being just meeting people as individuals. One of the ways people have overcome the dominant messaging about others — whether it be folks of other races or sexualities or gender expression — has been through exposure and getting to know people on the individual level. One of the more interesting aspects of the human psyche is that familiarity builds attraction. The more we get to know somebody, the more their uniqueness becomes attractive to us. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not telling you to hang around folks until you start to get the hots for them and hey, you’ll be changed. It’s not about forcing yourself to try to be attracted to somebody. It’s more that, by getting to know people on an individual level — people who you haven’t been generally attracted to — you may well find that they, specifically do it for you. That, in turn, may well help shift your perception and that mental compartmentalization that says “ok, this group of people: not attractive to me”.  And even if it doesn’t cause a huge transformation, it may give you insight into why you don’t find them as appealing as others. Even that little bit of awareness may help make a difference for you.

And it may also help to unpack any messages and beliefs about yourself, your sexuality or your ethnicity that you’ve absorbed. Recognizing just how and why this messaging is so pervasive may help you recognize the patterns in your own thinking and experiences. In addition to the work of Dr. Chen, Dr. Amy Sueyoshi as a series of books and essays that may be of interest to you (https://bit.ly/3wxMIiN)

Needless to say: it’s all complicated as f--k, and it can be hard to pick apart and sometimes it still ends up coming down to “these are the people you’re attracted to”. The fact that you’re paying attention to this and being mindful of it is a good thing. Awareness is part of how you bring change.

Hopefully some of this can help. And if my readers, especially my readers who sleep with men, have some experiences with overcoming media messaging or expanding who they’re attracted to — or resources or observations I missed — then I would love to see your stories in the comments.

Good luck.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com