Matt was the first person I'd been with who wasn't gay. He told me that although he'd mostly been with men, he'd had as many women as men. I worried that he wouldn't feel satisfied with me, that he'd miss sex with women – which I now know is the worst thing you can say to a bisexual person, because it implies they're less likely to be monogamous. I was projecting my own insecurity onto his sexuality.
There's a seven-year age gap between us, but if anything, Matt's more mature than me. Outside the bedroom, he's a decisive alpha, so I like it when the dynamic changes in sex. I used to find control in submission. There's a stigma around being 'bottom' – that it means giving up power – but actually, you're still setting the terms. And since I really trusted Matt, I started enjoying being more dominant. Sometimes during sex, I almost leave my body.
My relationship history is pretty bad. My first long-term boyfriend cheated on me and made rude comments about my body. When I confronted him, he said, 'Why would I have sex with you? You have a small dick.' I didn't realize how guarded I'd been until I met Matt. I still have body image issues, but Matt often tells me how much he likes me. I've never felt more attractive.
Matt doesn't have physical insecurities, but he feels rejected when I'm busy. I've gotten better at soothing him since we started couples therapy last summer. I was stressed at work, so we only had sex every 10 days. We spent a lot of time finger-pointing, but now I listen to how he feels instead of getting defensive.
It took Matt a long time to trust me enough to be on top, so we didn't do it for the first year, and then it changed. We prefer oral because it's more intimate. But Matt prefers giving over receiving, which is our dynamic. He's caring. Sometimes I wish he'd let me take care of him more. I still feel like Matt trusts me more than I trust him – I expect him to catch up.
Two years ago, when I met Joe on a dating app, I had an active sex life but was looking for a boyfriend. It seemed like we'd both moved past the stage of having sex with strangers in dark rooms. I mostly dated men, and I'm probably 8 or 9 out of 10 gay, but my sexuality is fluid, which is hard for most people to understand. At first, Joe struggled to understand that I'm attracted to all genders but attracted to the person. When Joe worried he couldn't compare, I told him I'd be fine if I never had sex with a woman again.
Joe's job can affect our sex life, and his libido is lower than mine, which sometimes makes me personally resentful. Without regular sex, I start seeing signs where there aren't any. In the first year, I was scared he'd lose interest in me. So when we didn't have sex in the second week, I panicked and initiated a conversation, but Joe, exhausted from work, struggled to express empathy. During dry periods, I need reassurance, and when we do have sex, I want it to be slower, gentler, more romantic, with lots of kissing and foreplay.
We have sex more often since we've been living together, maybe three or four times a week. We go through phases – we're obsessed with oral sex, then more into penetration. I need to be with someone for at least a year before I feel comfortable enough for penetrative sex, so we took it slow. There's pressure to be a gay sex machine, and I'd feel guilty if I couldn't give Joe that. Through time, trial, and error, I started pleasing him.
I'm pretty monogamous, although sometimes I wonder what it means to be in a long-term relationship with someone. Although we want monogamy in the near future, we've both said, 'I see myself being with you forever, but I don't know if I see myself having sex with only you forever.'
