How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Stoya and Rich here. It’s anonymous!
Dear How to Do It,
I’m a woman in my 30s who’s recently started seeing a man in his 40s who has a lot of effeminate characteristics—his voice, his lingo, his attire, his mannerisms.
When I first met him at a social event, I assumed he was gay. He’s handsome, smart, and super interesting, and I’m interested in seeing where things go with him. The sex we have is pretty good; I find some aspects arousing, but others (his voice, his grooming, the specific compliments he gives me about my appearance) are a turn-off because they strike me as gay, and I’ve always been into more traditionally masculine guys. When we’re in bed, I try to focus on what’s good and to enjoy the novelty of the experience.
I did ask him the other day during a natural point in a conversation if he’d ever been with a man—I told him I’d been with women in the past—and he said no, and added that he was not bi. That was as far as that discussion went. I’m hung up on the effeminacy, not because I think he’s secretly gay (I don’t!), but because I just want to know more about it. I’m intrigued by him and want to know what it’s like for him moving through the world with people probably often assuming, as I did, that he’s gay. I want to know whether he ever feels self-conscious about these things. I want to have this conversation with him, but I don’t know how to ask it in a way that doesn’t just come across as, like, “So, tell me why you seem so gay.”
—Wrestling With the Packaging
Get sex advice—submit a question!
Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don‘t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication.
Rich Juzwiak: Was this a Sex in the City plot? I didn’t watch a lot of that show, but it seems like something that would happen on it. It’s definitely a sitcom setup.
Jessica Stoya: But this is a Carrie or a Charlotte moment. This is not a Samantha or a Miranda, which should tell you something, letter writer.
Rich: I think that there is absolutely a good chance that he’s self-conscious about it and that further interrogation would in fact be rude. It’s already there. The fact that he had to add, “I’m not bi,” means that he knows people are thinking it.
Jessica: You know how I feel about the word just. When you see the word just, it is almost never as small or inconsequential a thing as the person is trying to describe it as by using the word “just.” I don’t think our letter writer simply wants to know more about this man’s effeminate mannerisms. I don’t think that’s the case.
I think they turn her off, and she’s contorting herself to avoid being a person who says things like, “This perfectly good, handsome, smart, super interesting man is not as much of a lumberjack, raw steak chewing kind of archetype as I need him to be totally sexually invested. So I’m going to do all of these evasive antics to make it as though it’s about curiosity.”
Rich: Right. You don’t have to pity-date this guy. Some women do like effeminacy in men. It fascinates me looking back on the heartthrobs of ‘80s hair metal. Very little aesthetically would distinguish the men in the band Poison from trash glamorous women of the ‘80s on Hollywood Boulevard. And people love them. Rock of Love with Bret Michaels was able to exist because people had huge crushes on Bret Michaels.
So, this guy will be fine. You’re not into it, which is fine. It’s certainly possible for men who identify as straight to have these kinds of characteristics. This is a thing. There was a Saturday Night Live skit in the ‘90s, “Lyle, the Feminine Heterosexual.” Of course, when you’re getting into this kind of interrogation, you’re getting a bit adjacent to homophobia or at least into expectations of what a man is.
Jessica: And also misogyny. A man is a human who is devoid of all of the things we think of as feminine, which are correlated with less broadly respected qualities in a human.
Rich: Yes, exactly. Homophobia and misogyny so often intersect, too.
But yes, you like what you like. It’s OK if you want someone more masculine. This is, by the way, still a concern of gay men by and large, but I think less of one. I’ve seen growing acceptance of certain femininity within men who have sex with men. There are gay guys who say, “I like feminine twinks.” There’s a broader palate out there to appeal to.
To a gay guy, I would definitely say, check yourself. Just check in. Why do you feel this way? Why are you so focused on masculinity, and what does that mean about you? Interrogate that. I’d recommend the same thing here, while also recognizing that you like what you like. You’re not going to change yourself overnight, if ever. Your taste is what you have to work with right now.
If there is work that you have to do on yourself here, then that’s a journey you’re about to go on. You’re not at the destination. You’re having recent sex that’s “pretty good.” I feel like you could do better.
Jessica: Both of the people here deserve sex that’s better than at least one of them feeling it’s pretty good.
I do want to interrogate what is, in my opinion, a strange attempt to make this about curiosity regarding the experience of this man, who isn’t gay but is being perceived that way, as he moves through the world. And also, when we’re talking about effeminacy, is it only aesthetic or is it also behavioral?
I like male pattern baldness, with all the hair that in their 20s was on their head scattered across the chest and belly. I’m like, “Oh, you exist entirely on a diet of red meat and potatoes and maybe pork, but no, chicken does not count as meat.” I love that so much. But I have respect for, appreciation of, and even requirements of some amount of emotional intelligence, some amount of tenderness in comportment and discussions. But I think when we’re talking about looks and looks alone, that really can simply be chalked up to: You like what you like.
Rich: I think he’s absolutely self-conscious of this. But you’re not a journalist, maybe you are, but not in this capacity. You’re dating somebody. So I feel like with something that’s obviously sensitive, if people aren’t offering the information, any digging you do at least threatens to be rude, if not is absolutely rude. So you have to be really careful.
You don’t want to turn somebody off, unless you do. Unless you’re just going to say, “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t care what this guy’s emotional experience is. I’m never going to see him again, so let me ask all these questions because I’m just so curious what it’s like to be a man who goes through the world with these markers that many associate with gayness, and he’s not gay. What’s that like?” You can write that profile on the spot in your head, but you’re just doing that for yourself. You’re being selfish. You’re being inconsiderate emotionally. You can make that decision. You’re allowed to be inconsiderate, but then you have to live with yourself.
Jessica: It’s hard to ask someone to tell you why they seem so gay without coming across as asking that question.
Rich: Exactly. The letter is set up like a scientific exploration. It’s an inquiry. “What is it like?” I bet you could find that out without having to go to him directly. And just know that if you do go to him directly, you may never see him again. You may turn him off. He may shut down the conversation. You might hurt his feelings. You may salt a wound that maybe life has been hard for him as a result of this. But at the same time, he’s handsome and getting laid, so life isn’t impossible for him. He seems like he’s doing just fine.
More Advice From Slate
I’ve had two neighbors move in below me recently. Nice young couple, met them briefly as they were moving in, but haven’t had much interaction with them beyond passing in the hallway and occasionally holding the door for each other. The problem: They’re loud in bed.