DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: When we spoke during a coaching session a month or so back, you told me that there really is no reason to hide that I’ve never had a relationship before. You also gave a really good way to deliver that information (which I forget, something about just having too much going on early in life). Do you really think that is a good idea? I always thought that women hated the idea of “showing someone the ropes” even if I’m not clueless.

I suppose it does serve as the ultimate litmus test for someone. If she doesn’t like me that much already then telling her I have no experience will definitely drive her off. It’s just something I have been thinking about.

Noob Toob

DEAR NOOB TOOB: This is something that comes up fairly often, especially among men who are older and don’t have as much social or dating experience as they’d like. So before I get to your, let’s talk about how important experience or inexperience is when it comes to relationships – both practically and in terms of whether it’s a deal breaker or not.

I want to start with a simple observation: the guys who are the most worried about this vastly overestimate how much women care and how often it comes up. In my life, out of all the women I’ve dated or slept with, I can think of exactly one who ever asked me about my relationship history – and that was in the context of how much I’d changed since we first met, not gauging my fitness as a potential partner. It’s simply never come up or been relevant and it has never been a deciding factor in who wanted to date or hook up with me.

This isn’t terribly surprising; a lot of people misunderstand the value and importance of experience when it comes to dating. One of the more common misconceptions is that they tend to focus on numbers – how many sexual partners someone’s had, how many relationships they’ve been in and so on – as though the numbers tell you anything other than, well, numbers. The problem is that the numbers, in and of themselves, mean very little outside of measuring quantity. It isn’t necessarily hard to rack up sex partners, for example, if all you’re focused on is “make the number go up”. It’s not even about dropping your standards to zero, so much as just being willing to do whatever it takes (within reason, with consent, etc.) to get someone into bed. But having a high number of sex partners doesn’t mean that they’re a good lay. All the number tells you is how many people that person has had sex with. A person can have so many notches in their bedpost that it looks like they’re running a Golden Corral for termites, but it doesn’t mean that they’re that skilled of a lover. A hundred partners sounds impressive, but it doesn’t mean much if all of them were one-offs who would refuse to see you again even if you were stripped naked and dipped in nacho cheese. On the other hand, a person who’s only had three or four partners in his life, but in sexually active, healthy and satisfying relationships that last for years is much more likely to be someone who knows how to make someone scream their name like they’re trying to reach someone in low-Earth orbit.  

The same goes for dating or being in relationships – numbers are just a measure of quantity, not quality. Having lots of previous relationships could even be a warning sign; it could be an indicator that they commit too quickly, that they aren’t discerning about who they date, that they can’t keep it in their pants or that they have other qualities that cause the relationships to end sooner rather than later. Having low numbers means equally little; while yes, it could be a sign of inexperience, it could also be a sign of someone who doesn’t commit easily and wants to be sure. It could be a sign of someone whose relationships last for years or even decades, or it could be a sign of someone who simply didn’t make dating a priority. A low number is of previous partners just as likely to be the sign of who has had other reasons why they didn’t date much, if at all, rather than a red flag.

(Not surprisingly, the people who care the most about numbers tend to be men, rather than women – and their concern tends to be inverted. Men who are sex negative or who subscribe to toxic and restrictive ideas about masculinity and male and female sexuality tend to valorize higher numbers for men while simultaneously demonizing women for having similar numbers… which brings up the obvious question of who, exactly, all those men are supposed to be f--king.)

From a practical standpoint, the biggest benefit of experience – whether it’s one relationship or ten, one sex partner or dozens – isn’t skill so much as familiarity and knowledge. Having more experience means that you’re more likely to have encountered common issues, whether they’re sexual mishaps (say, a penis with stage fright), relationship conflicts (money, communication, different goals within the relationship) or even just reading the room. It’s a lot easier to deal with an issue when you’ve run into it before; even if the last time was a royal cockup, you at least know what not to do this time.

Greater levels of experience also frequently – not always, but frequently – comes with greater self-knowledge. If you’ve been around the block a couple of times, you’re more likely to know what you want (in bed or in a relationship) and how to express those needs to others.

Similarly, when you have relatively little experience, it’s very easy to confuse what you think you want with what you need, or what would actually be good for you. A lot of folks, for example, think they want to be players, simply because of how much culture has told them that this is what Men Should Be. In reality, not only does this not match with their personality, but it goes against the kinds of relationships they want and the people they would be most compatible with. Similarly, a lot of folks may think that they’re monogamous but find that their sexual desire for their partners fades very quickly. In reality, they have a greater need for sexual novelty and a monogamous commitment from them will only lead to dissatisfaction and the eventual failure of the relationship, one way or another.

That doesn’t mean that experience is necessary for that self-knowledge or that familiarity with the trials and tribulations of a relationship; plenty of people know themselves well enough and/or have enough related experience to manage things. But as a general rule, experience is helpful, and increases the likelihood of a better outcome. It’s like rolling with advantage rather than with a straight roll. You can still fail when rolling with advantage, just as you can have a critical success without it, but advantage does increase the odds of success.

Now getting back to your question: how important is experience to women and how much of a red flag is inexperience? With the obvious caveat that everyone’s individual preferences will vary: not as much as you might think. A lot of the emphasis on experience or numbers – or the “shame” of being a virgin past a particular age – is pure projection; these are things that men find significant, things that they make assumptions on and so they project those feelings onto women. It’s very similar to assuming that the things that men admire in other men – status, power, riches, etc. – are what women must want in them: some do, but most don’t think of it the way men assume they do.

This doesn’t mean that there’re aren’t women who loath the idea of “having to show someone the ropes”; there certainly are. But the bigger concern is usually less “having to teach someone how to please me” and more “Am I going to have to babysit this person through their personal development?” That is: women are less worried about the skill of an inexperienced man and more about whether that man is going to treat them as both mommy and a partner.

(There are times when someone is going to want more experience, specifically. There’re folks in, say, the kink community who want an experienced dom because they want a particular set of skills that a newbie is unlikely to have, and who don’t want to be/aren’t good at being a teacher. However,  that’s very different from “you must have X number of punches on your punch card to ride”.)  

Similarly, another, more reasonable concern is whether this person, having not dated frequently or had many sex partners, is going to suddenly decide that they’ve missed outand are going to need to go make up for lost time or “see what else is out there”. Again, not every man with little to no experience is going to suddenly decide they need to have their slutty summer or whatever, but plenty of men have. It’s understandable that some women are going to be cautious about it, especially if they’ve been burned before.

Of course, this can go both ways; if you have a lot of previous partners, women might worry that you’re not going to take a relationship with them seriously. They might worry – not unreasonably – that this is a fling for you, not something you see as having long-term potential.

But here’s the thing: despite how it sounds, none of these questions or assumptions happen in a vacuum. All of them come up in context of how much the person knows you and feels about you. Since we rarely start a romantic or sexual relationship with someone we literally just met, there is that period where we get to know one another, learn about each other and get a feel for who we both are. While we can never know everything about a person, it’s very rare that we don’t have a general feel for who someone is by the time we decide we want a relationship with them – especially a serious one.

And that makes all the difference. If somebody likes you, your experience or lack-thereof is less of a red flag/green flag and more just a data point. Someone who likes you and wants a relationship with you isn’t necessarily going to see levels of experience as a deal breaker/deal maker so much as just part of what makes you who you are. Someone who’s gotten to know you enough to decide whether they’re going to date you is usually going to have a good feel for your overall social and emotional intelligence and proceed from there.

And there’s always the fact that the numbers don’t really predict anything – not with any real certainty or accuracy. Somebody may have the not-unfounded worry that a less-experienced partner may eventually decide they want more… but the same can be true of an experienced one. It’s a little like people who don’t want to be in a poly relationship for fear that their partner would leave them for someone else in the polycule. It’s not an unreasonable fear, but monogamous people cheat and leave their partners all the time too; monogamy is hardly an immunization against a broken heart.  

If you’ve reached the point with someone where you’re both seriously considering a relationship, you’re likely well past the point where telling them that you have little to no relationship experience is going to scare them off. If that were to happen, it would happen far earlier. But as you said: it just becomes a filter, removing people who aren’t right for you and who you likely wouldn’t want to be with in the first place. While I don’t believe that everyone’s first time needs to be “perfect” or meaningful, it should be worth it. And part of what makes it worth it is being with a partner who’s giving, sensitive and caring. If they feel that your lack of experience is a red flag or a deal breaker, then all that’s happened is that they’ve shown they’re not right for you. That’s not a fault in you, that’s simply a mismatch.

I do think it can be worth telling someone, but primarily so that they understand where you are coming from and what your needs are. But, as with most issues like this, it really is about how you roll it out.  As is so often the case, your potential dates and partners will look to you for clues on how to respond to this knowledge. If you tell them with the overall attitude of “this is just one part of who I am”, not as some hideous flaw that you have to apologize for, they’ll respond accordingly. And if they do react badly? Well, then you’ve dodged a bullet and now you’re free to find someone who is worth your time.

Good luck.

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

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

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: So I’ve come to learn a very painful lesson that we’ll not matter what I do I don’t belong anywhere really or with any community. I love making art but you’re not stereotypical artist of being queer, softboi, thin or androgynous so I don’t belong with that community. I’m Hispanic yet I’m not of swarthy complexion not fiery or spicy or can’t even dance so even I’m in my culture I feel like an outsider. Tabletop wargaming is one hobby I enjoy yet I’m neither odd quirky enough or socially awkward like people with at my store nor am I well, queer, which again is a community I don’t feel like I belong to. I enjoy going to the gym yet I feel like I don’t belong there because I’m quite introverted and not very hurrah gym bro with big bulging muscles again. I’m a huge metalhead yet at metal head yet when I go to metal concerts I feel like an outsider or a poser because I’m not tatted up to the max nor do I wear all black, wear patches or have piercings or wear black eyeliner. I love going to conventions yet I’ve never made a single cosplay in my life and once again I feel like an outsider there.

No matter where I go or what I do I just simply do not belong there no matter how much I try. I feel fake, forced, like a poser a weed among the garden of flowers. That saying of “God give me confidence of a mediocre white man” I think of myself “hey I know that guy” he’s me (just say he slightly, autistic and has a small penis to really emphasize his mediocrity).

Even then my therapist tells me to try out therapy groups or something like that with my issues which again I feel like I simply DO NOT BELONG there. Because I’m not traumatized or a victim of abuse which most of those groups are made of. I’m autistic yet I feel like I don’t belong in autistic therapy groups because I’m on the higher functioning compared to other people who have it worst off them so I’m going stick out for the worst reasons. That’s not even getting my crippling body image issues which I have suggested therapy groups but once again I don’t belong there because mostly women’s group so am already sticking out in the worst way possible and we’ll my body image issues come from essentially eating too much compared to most which involves anorexia. It would be like saying my tummy hurts in a support group of stage 3 stomach cancer patients.

So yeah even among “outliers” and “outsiders” I’m an outsider. It makes me feel so fake and like fraud and I hate that feeling so much, it’s lonely and isolating. I just want to belong somewhere, be among like-minded people without having to second guess myself or feeling like I stand out like a sore thumb. To be among people I can happily call my peers and my community and actually have it mean something. How do it? How do I belong somewhere and actually feel like I belong there?

Sincerely,

A Vulture Among Odd Ducks

DEAR A VULTURE AMONG ODD DUCKS: This is a self-created problem, VAOD, but not in the way you think. Your isolation is primarily caused by choice, rather than by circumstance. This is actually good news, in its way. Because your isolation is self-inflicted, it means that you’re able to fix it rather easily. But in order to do that, first you have to actually address the cause that’s leading to your isolation. And that’s where you’re getting things wrong. Until you actually address the underlying issue, you’re going to continue having issues like these. You may find, for example, that even if you stop isolating yourself from the world around you, that this issue will come up in other areas.

The problem here is one of intellectual fallacies and black and white thinking. You’re acting as though you need to be an extreme example of a particular group (or, more accurately, the stereotype of a particular group) in order to be part of a community… and honestly, that’s entirely about you  and how you feel about yourself. You

Now, a lot of what you’re talking about are about how much you match a popular stereotype and treating that as whether you “deserve” to be part of the group – as though fitting into a particular look was a prerequisite. This would be true if, say, you were determined to join a group of posers who are more interested in the supposed aesthetics of a community instead of the substance, or signing up with a group of gatekeeping s--theads who want to pretend that they have some sort of ownership and authority over fandom. But you’re not. So I have to wonder why you’re focusing on the maximalist interpretation, where you have to be at the far edges of a group rather than realizing that part of the point of the community is the love of the thing that brings that community together.

Let’s take art, for example. The only requirement for entry to being an artist is… making art. Good art, bad art, marketable art, popular art, art that you couldn’t sell if your life depended on it… none of that matters. You make art? You’re an artist. Yeah, there’re lots of folks in art school who are all about the aesthetics and lifestyle of the aaaaaaahteeeest than making art, but that’s entirely different from, y’know, being an artist.

As someone who’s got a lot of creative friends – from comic artists to screen printers, writers, filmmakers, podcasters, photographers, makers, sculptors, fine artists, cosplayers and creatives all along the spectrum, I can tell you for a fact that they are as wide and as varied as you could want. Some of them are what you might call “softbois”, some are queer, some are gender-non-conforming… and many are standard-issue cisgendered hetero people that make up the majority of the population. Their gender, sexuality, neurotypicality or divergence all informed their art and the kind of art they made, sure… but none of it meant that they were or weren’t artists.

Back when I was doing a lot more drawing, I was part of a local group that would get together on Sundays at a coffeeshop downtown and just we’d just draw. We were a diverse bunch in terms of gender, lifestyle and presentation; some were goths, some were considerably more jock-like. Some were hipster-y, some were very stylish, some were very average and unremarkable in their style. Nobody was seen as “not being one of the group” because they were too butch or masc, too femme, too inked up (which, in Austin, takes some doing) or not inked enough. Nor, for that matter, was it a question of skill or talent. There were folks who are now superstar artists at Marvel and DC, or who went on to be lead artists at major game devs like Bioware, Bethesda and Arkane Austin.  Some were decent as long as they used a LOT of references and crutches (me, we’re talking about me here), and some people who could barely draw stick figures.��Some of used physical media while others drew entirely digitally. Hell, not everyone drew. Some folks would paint or do watercolor or do stuff with Super Sculpey or Fimo. If 3D printers had existed at the time, I’m sure some would be using modeling stuff to print later. The important thing was that we all came together because we liked drawing and creating and hanging out with other people who liked to draw and create.  That (and not being a screaming asshole)  was all that was necessary to be part of the community.

Being a metalhead is very similar. One of the more unifying things about the metal community is that it’s pretty wide ranging. Get five metalheads in one room and you’re going to have six opinions and seven different examples of what a metalhead looks like. Not everyone’s going to be rocking mullets and battle vests any more than everyone’s going to be wearing corpse paint, dressing like  a British leather daddy or like they just rolled out of a Ren Faire or Hall H, and not everyone’s expected to. Getting a bunch of patches and studs and putting together a battle vest isn’t a requirement, it’s just how some folks choose to express their fandom. ��(It is, however, fun as s--t and makes you look cool as hell.) 

The ethos of the metal community (and also of punk, for that matter) is “you must be cool, because if you weren’t cool, you wouldn’t be here”. 

(And for the record, that’s the official word from Henry f--kin’ Rollins)��It’s not about conformity, it’s about loving some f--king metal and rocking your face off. 

The same goes for taking part in fandom or going to conventions. Cosplayers are a subset of fandom; they’re people who express their love for their fandom by way of bringing their fandom to life – by creating costumes and props, by embodying those characters via those costumes and props, or both; not every cosplayer is a maker and not every maker also cosplays. But you’re not required to cosplay in order to be part of the fan community or to go to cons; again, the ticket to entry is being a fan. If you want to be part of the cosplayer community, then yes, participating is part of it… but even then, there’re multiple ways of participating that aren’t making or wearing the costumes. You can be a photographer, run gallery sites, organize events at cons, be someone’s handler/assistant/brute squad and so on.

But to be a fan doesn’t mean you have to be part of a particular subgroup any more than you have to follow a particular style or live a particular way. One of the best compliments I’ve ever gotten was from a friend who once asked me “If I kill you, do all the other nerds die?”, but if you were to see me out and about in my usual well-heeled-Metallica-roadie getup, you might be a bit surprised when I can bust out all the songs from the Rocky Horror Picture Show or pull the deep 80s cartoon cuts from off the top of my head. I’ve got my geek shibboleths, sure, but you have to be pretty observant to clock ‘em at a glance.

Nor, for that matter, does being a member of a particular community mean that you need to imitate the most vocal or visible examples of that community. Unless you’re trying to be a body builder or powerlifter, nobody at the gym is expecting you to be a ‘roidhead. And unless you’re going to a very specific kind of gym, most folks don’t want you to be one of those guys; they tend to be among the most obnoxious gym-goers around.

That same thing applies to, say, mental health. Yeah, you don’t want to, say, join a cancer support group when you don’t actually, y’know, have cancer, but you don’t have to be just this side of getting 5150’d to take part in group therapy. Part of the whole point of group therapy is realizing that you’re not alone, that lots of people have similar issues to yours and you’re all wrestling with similar demons and knowing this helps. The people who know the name of your demon can tell you how to handle it and vice versa.

You’re also buying into some of the same thinking that actually isolates folks who have issues similar to yours. Those body image issues you’re saying you don’t want to go to therapy for because most of the groups would be full of women? Well, the whole reason why they’re mostly full of women is because a lot of men are afraid to admit they have body image issues. This despite the fact that eating disorders and body dysmorphia is on the rise in men. It’s that feeling of “I’m afraid admit it because I’m not like the others” that causes men to isolate themselves and not only continue to perpetuate the stigma, but keeps people like you from getting the help that they both need and deserve.

Now, if most of the groups around you are specifically for anorexia, then yes, those groups may not be a good fit. But disordered eating is disordered eating; the details may vary, but the root causes tend to be the same. You may have a different relationship to food from someone who’s bulimic, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have a problem or that you don’t need support.

Another issue is that you’re falling for a form of the Fallacy of Relative Privation – the idea that your problems don’t matter because there’re other people with worse, bigger problems. Weirdly, however, the fact that someone in the world has bowel cancer doesn’t make another person’s gluten intolerance less of a problem or cause a third person’s IBS to be easier to live with. There are other neurodivergent people whose ADHD hits a lot harder than mine; that doesn’t mean that mine doesn’t and hasn’t negatively impacted my life.

But you know what happens if you go to an autism support group, despite not struggling as much as some in that group? You get support. You get access to resources, insight and suggestions on how to deal with issues related to being autistic – things that will make your life better. And if someone’s autism is more profound than yours… well, over the course of your time in that group you might be the one providing insight and advice to them.

Now here is an important question, and one that I think will really drive things home: would you gatekeep other people from saying that they’re part of those communities? Are you going to stand up and say that a friend of yours shouldn’t be going to metal concerts because they’re not tatted up enough or don’t have enough black band tees? Are you going to tell someone that they can’t call themselves an otaku because they don’t have a Jujitsu Kaisen shrine or can’t name every voice actor (dub or sub) from Demon Slayer? Do you seriously believe that someone can’t be a Critter because they haven’t been to GenCon or Emerald City or SDCC dressed as Percy or Fresh Cut Grass? Would you tell people not to call themselves an artist because they don’t look like they live in a converted Bronx warehouse and dress like Goodwill exploded all over them?

I’m going to guess that no, no you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t insist that they stand out too much or that they’re not “true” members of that community just because they don’t march in lock-step with everyone else.

So why in the 108 f--king names of God are you holding yourself to such an absurd standard? If you can see how other people – people who aren’t softbois or so many piercings that they’re more metal than man or what-have-you – can be part of a community without being a carbon copy clone of everyone else, then why are you doing that to yourself? Why does everyone else get grace that you aren’t willing to give yourself?

Sit with that for a moment. Really think about it. What is it about you that means that you aren’t allowed the same lenience, the same beneficence that you would grant to others? Why are you forbidden from entry when others who are like you are permitted? And why are you doing this to yourself?

This isn’t about not fitting in. This is about not letting yourself fit in because you think that there’s some purity test that you aren’t going to pass or that you’re not a “true” whatever. Well funny thing about “true” vs. “fake” fans or “true” vs. “fake” artists or “true” and “fake” neurodivergent people: the folks most concerned with “true” vs. “fake” tend to be the insecure s--tbags who think that the answer to their exclusion is to exclude others because they’ve never dealt with their own hurt. Those purity tests don’t actually exist and when they do, then f--k the testers; go find a better class of people to hang out with and let the losers wall themselves off until they suffocate and starve. The Sad Puppies, ‘gators, grognards, wannabe-SMOFS and all the rest can circlejerk themselves until they’re dehydrated while proclaiming themselves the true owners of whatever property; meanwhile everyone else will  give them exactly the amount of consideration they deserve.

The way you fit in with a community is being part of that community and participating in it. You don’t need to participate in the  exact same way as everyone else, nor should you. Your uniqueness and your relationship with the fandom, with the neurodiversity, with whatever, brings your own brand of specialness to that community. It may not look exactly the same as other people’s and that’s fine. Thriving communities aren’t some uniform soup where every ingredient has been homogenized and pureed and blended until they’re indistinguishable from one another. They’re a gumbo, full of many different ingredients that come together to make something bigger than the sum of their parts. If some group is insisting on perfect conformity as the price of entry, then find a better, classier group that isn’t so inbred.

Hell, you could even start your own. That’s how my Drinkin’ And Drawin’ group came about; one guy decided “hey it’d be nice if there were an opportunity for folks to hang out, make friends and make art” and by God he made it happen.

The same goes for finding support groups. The black-and-white, extremist thinking that the only groups that are valid are for the absolute worst-off only serves to isolate yourself from both community and assistance, and for no reason other than to spite yourself because f--k you, that’s why. That’s brain-meltingly, pants-on-head absurd. Stop cutting yourself off from the help you need just because you think someone else has it worse. You have problems. Support groups exist to provide support for people who have those problems. Pretending your problems aren’t really problems is just suffering for suffering’s sake, crucifying yourself for no reason other than “well someone else might have it worse than me”. Yes, someone absolutely does. And unless that person’s existence magically makes your problem vanish, then you’re still the exact sort of person that group exists to support. Your not going isn’t making things better for other people. You’re just making things harder for yourself, and for no reason other than misguided martyrdom. And trust me, the folks you think have it worse than you? They’re not begrudging you seeking support for your problems, any more than you would begrudge others for seeking help with theirs.

Stop holding yourself back. Find your support and find your people. You are artist enough. You are Hispanic enough. You are fan enough. You are autistic enough.

You. Are. Enough.

All will be well. 

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

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 had a kind of friends with benefits relationships (situationship, I know you hate it) with a very nerdy guy.

He is very cute and smart, but I guess he has a low self-esteem. On contrast I am a Jessica Rabbit kind of a woman. Moreover I am 8 years older.

Once he told me something stupid, like: we need to breakup, you deserve better.

It sounds like a polite way to turn me down. I said nothing and left. But it was so humiliating that in a couple of weeks I texted him everything that was on my mind without any censorship.

He came to my place and I scolded at him. I was furious! It ended up me slapping him. I was really very angry.

And then we had a super passionate sex.

Now I’m a bit confused. I have never been such a bitch. But my god it feels so good!!

What was it? I couldn’t find anything in the internet. Am I perverse?

Thank you, Doc.

Slap Happy

DEAR SLAP HAPPY: OK I’m going to start this with a couple of obvious disclaimers. The first is my standard disclaimer about fake letters: while I’m pretty good at catching the obvious fakes, I don’t worry overly much about if one slips through the net. Most letters may as well be fiction for everybody but the letter-writer and if there’re lessons to be gleaned or something folks are able to take away from it, then that’s going to be more important to me than someone going “ha, got ‘em” to themselves.

The second is JESUS F--KNUTS, I DON’T CARE HOW UPSET YOU ARE, HITTING SOMEONE IN ANGER LIKE THIS IS WRONG. You got really f--king lucky with the outcome, but holy hopping sheep s--t you really need to work on those anger issues like right the f--k now. Even if we leave the fact that you assaulted this guy aside (and yes, this was assault), your stewing on this for weeks before calling him over so you could yell at him is not goddamn healthy. Yeah, sometimes it takes a bit of time to process your feelings, but taking two weeks and then haranguing the dude out of the clear blue sky for his deciding that he wanted to end the relationship is not goddamn cool and not the sort of thing that someone with even a modicum of emotional intelligence thinks is a good idea. If you’re that angry about it, vent to your friends, listen to some angry music while you go for a jog, lift some weights and process your f--king feelings without hitting people.

There are healthy ways to deal with situations like this and that was not f--king it. And like I said: you got very lucky that this ended with passionate sex and not, say, an assault charge or getting hit in return.

Now, with the full acknowledgement that I am NOT approving of what you did or what happened, here’s what happened: you and this guy experienced what’s known as “misattribution of arousal”. Humans as a species are bad at understanding why we feel the way we do. Our brains take in the sensations from our bodies – a racing heartbeat, adrenaline spikes, sweaty palms, rapid breathing, an activated central nervous system – and decide how we feel based on what’s around us. Passion feels the same, physically, whether it’s anger or lust, so the two will often blend. Similarly, high levels of adrenaline often correlate to high levels of arousal, so it’s not surprising when a lot of angry passion happens to overlap with sexual passion. It’s why things that arouse the central nervous system and cardiovascular system tend to also arouse the limbic system – why you’re more likely to want to f--k after riding American Screamin’ than It’s A Small World.

So yeah, a knock-down, drag out fight leading to sex is not exactly a surprise. But your actions that lead there was deeply s--tty and you need serious anger management sessions before you haul off and find yourself in a world of s--t.

If you want sex like that again, without the risk of either being hauled in front of a judge or getting the s--t knocked out of you in return? Get your emotions under control and then find someone who’s consenting to that kind of play. Because, again: you may have been very lucky this time, but that was a f--king awful thing to do.

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

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