DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’ve been happily single for a while, and I’m not looking for a relationship, but I do miss sex. I figured that with all the online options for dating, it shouldn’t be too hard to find people who are upfront about their desire to keep things casual – and I was right! There are attractive people on Tinder and OKCupid who explicitly say they want casual fun or hookups or whatever. So far so good – I want someone who’s on the same page.

Here’s the snag, though – I’ve never had casual sex, flings, one-night-stands, anything. All the sex I’ve had has been in long-term relationships, and I’m a huge dork and couldn’t flirt my way out of a paper bag. So when I see a Tinder profile that says “Just looking for something casual,” I freeze up. I realize I wouldn’t know what to say to this person (especially if that’s literally the only thing in their profile).

Dating for relationships is hard, but at least I feel like I kind of know how it works – you try to get to know someone, find your common interests, slowly grow more comfortable. It doesn’t help that everyone I’ve dated has been introverted and shy like me, so in every past relationship it was months before we had sex. Casual sex doesn’t seem like a long game, though – aside from what happens in movies, I literally can’t imagine what words are involved when you meet someone and end up having sex with them on the same or the next date.

How does this work? What are the norms and expectations of the casual dating scene? What are the common-sense things a newbie might not know? I feel like I need a tutor or a class or something.

Got No Strings

DEAR GOT NO STRINGS: You have legitimate reasons to be confused, GNS, because — as we’ve seen frequently on here — “casual” means different things to different people.

Now, as a general rule, a casual relationship means one with no expectation of commitment. Most folks will agree on that. However, it’s the details where people often get tripped up.

For some folks, “casual” means that not only is there no expectation of commitment, but there’s also no expectation of much of a relationship outside of sex; minimal dates, minimal contact, mostly getting together to bang and go. For others, a casual relationship is functionally a friends-with-benefits arrangement. For some it means that you’re dating, but with the understanding that this isn’t leading to marriage or children or living together, while for others it means that you’re not exclusive. For some, it’s a relationship without labels (no calling each other boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, etc), while for still others it’s what you have before you decide you’re settling down.

Needless to say, it’s very easy for two people’s idea of “casual” to bump up against one another in unpleasant ways and leave people hurt, confused and upset. If your idea of casual was that you simply weren’t heading towards marriage but you did expect monogamy and your partner’s idea was “we bang, that’s it”, you two are gonna have a bad time.

This is why it’s important, even in a casual relationship, to define your terms and have a version of the Defining The Relationship talk, where you discuss just what this means, what you expect and what you are open to.

Of course, there’re plenty of occasions where this doesn’t come up. If someone’s just looking for a hit-it-and-quit it hook up or a one-night stand, then there’s a lot less to discuss; you’re likely not seeing this other person again, so there’s no real need. But if it’s someone you enjoy spending time with or sleeping with and you’d both like to do it again and on the regular, then yeah, it’s important to at least lay some groundwork with a “just so we’re both on the same page” convo.

But the thing to realize is that casual sex and casual relationships aren’t the same thing as hooking up on the first date. When you both decide to have sex isn’t a function of the type of relationship, it’s a function of desire, trust and acceptance of risk on both sides. Couples who were explicitly looking for long-term commitment are just as likely to stay together regardless of whether they decided to bang on the first date as the third or the tenth. People looking for something casual may decide to wait a couple of dates before having sex. Hell, people can know each other for years or decades before deciding they want to have a NSA hook-up or two.

So in your case, when you find one of those sexy singles in your area who’re looking for a casual fling… find out what casual means to them. The way that I prefer is to set up a pre-date date quickly — “Hey, I really find conversations on dating apps to be shallow; would you like to meet up for a quick coffee? Here’re the times I’m free, you pick the day and the location” — and over the course of that date, bring up what you’re looking for and what you’re open to. Something along the lines of: “So I’m recently single and I’m not in the market for a committed relationship; I’m mostly looking for people to do fun things with. What about you?” This has the benefit of helping establish whether you have in-person chemistry or not, whether you want the same things and if you two are interested enough to try a proper date and/or hooking up. If your expectations line up and you’re into each other, then blessings on you both. If not, you’re just out the price of a cup of coffee and 15 to 30 minutes of your time, instead of days of weeks leading up to conflict and hurt feelings.

Just remember though: a casual relationship isn’t a license to treat your partner casually. There are people out there who think that a casual relationship means not having to give a s

t about the person they’re seeing. These are people who should be chucked out of your dating pool with great force and furious abandon. If someone is treating you badly or not paying attention to your feelings or comfort, that is not someone you want to date, even if this relationship isn’t going anywhere. Anyone worth sleeping with is someone who — at the bare minimum — is going to treat you with respect and compassion.

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: Thank you for the awesome work that you do. So many of us don’t have people in our corner that truly understand family dynamics.

Here is my issue I need feedback on: I grew up in a poor family. Neither my mother or father were there for me growing up. If it weren’t for my grandparents, I don’t know what would have happen to me.

I remember as a child I would ask my mother why she refused to get a job and her response was downright ridiculous. As I grew up and remained in school, I managed to get odd jobs starting at age 15. Every dime I made was saved for college. I put myself through college. Now in my late thirties, my birth mother only calls when she wants money. I never had a relationship with her because I despised her laziness and condescending ways.

In my early twenties and through my thirties, I use to have nightmares about her (in every dream I was bickering with her). These nightmarish dreams caused sadness during my waking hours. Since my teenage years, my birth mother always tried to pen her responsibilities on me, and this infuriated me. After I moved away for college, got married a few years later and had a child, not once has my birth mother offered to visit to help with my baby nor has she been a sounding board just to talk. I realized who she was years ago, which prevented me from seeing her face in over 14 years. And, no I don’t miss her (she is now 70 years old).

However, she still calls and ask for money, as if I owe her for giving me life. The last time she called, I told her to stop calling me and that I owed her nothing. I felt bad after the phone call, but I still feel resentment towards her. However, not talking to her somehow brings me peace.

Unfortunately, I think about her everyday, my thoughts range from ‘how can a mother not support her children…or ’why she thinks its ok to not do anything to enhance her life or her children lives years prior……or ‘why she thinks its ok to think someone owe her something.’ I am 37 years old and honestly, I am tired of thinking about my birth mother. Over the years I have consulted with several psychologists because of the anxiety and resentment I have towards my birth mother. Now, I just want to stop my brain from thinking about her.

I know I need to forgive and let the pain go. Am I wrong for walking away, never to have anything to do with my birth mother? Am I wrong for feeling the way I feel? Your thoughts and opinions are welcome with gratitude.

I (Don’t Wanna) Remember Mama

DEAR I (DON’T WANNA) REMEMBER MAMA: There was a movie that came out a few years ago about a young man coming to terms with his relationship with his biological father. Over the course of the film, he goes from having a fantasy of who his father was, being thrilled to find his real birth father, to realizing that his birth father was a legitimate monster… and that while the two had a contentious relationship, the man who actually raised him was far more of a parent than his biological father ever was.

Like the man said: “He may have been your father, boy, but he weren’t your daddy.”

Your mother may have given you half of your chromosomes and your DNA. Your mother may be the reason you exist in this world. None of that obligates you to break yourself into pieces on her behalf… not when she’s treated you as an afterthought at best and a resource to be exploited at need.

As much as “I didn’t ask to be born” is the war cry of angsty, frustrated teens and tweens the world over… it’s also true. The fact that you were born doesn’t obligate you to allow your birth parents — or anyone else for that matter — to treat you badly. Being biologically related to someone isn’t a binding contract.

Just as importantly, family isn’t just about blood. The fact that someone gave birth to you may make them your mother, but that doesn’t make them family. You can have a family of origin and a family of choice. Sometimes they’re one and the same. Sometimes they’re not. The fact that someone is related to you by blood doesn’t obligate you to keep them in your life, especially not when they only treat you badly. You have every right to decide whether or not someone is a part of your family, just as you have every right to decide whether or not someone has access to your life. Or, for that matter, to cut someone off.

It’s entirely understandable that you feel bad about cutting her out of your life so completely, I(DW)RM. It’s also entirely understandable that you resent her and what she’s done (and hasn’t done). Those feelings are real and valid. But cutting her off was the right idea. One of the most important things you can do in your life is to establish and maintain firm boundaries, especially with people who only try to use you or to force you to take on responsibilities that aren’t yours. Denying toxic people your time, your attention or even just access to you isn’t something to feel bad about. It’s one of the kindest, most caring things you can do for yourself. You are refusing to let someone who abdicated their responsibility to you as a child have a single toehold in your life. The only thing that’s sad about it is the necessity of it.

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 21 year old girl, and I’ve known I was asexual since I was about 17. I’m pretty aromantic as well, though the most accurate label is probably gray demiromantic — I’ve only ever had romantic feelings about two people, both of whom were my close friends. I’m not even sure that they were really romantic feelings, because they occurred very, very infrequently (like every 1-2 months). I would say the primary feelings I remember identifying were kind of a glowy, warm feeling, wanting to sit a little closer, and an overwhelming sense of “wow, I’m so, so incredibly lucky that this person is in my life”. But I don’t know whether those types of feelings count as any sort of attraction, because I don’t really have any other experience to compare them to.

Anyway, there’s a couple different things going on. My great-grandma is 96 and in memory care right now, and we can’t see her for pandemic reasons, and the whole experience of worrying about her has had me thinking a lot more about my own mortality than I ever had before. Not in the sense of wanting to die, but in the sense of realizing that my subjective perception of reality will just suddenly stop one day, and anything I don’t do/feel/experience in the next seventy-odd years is something I’ll never experience ever. I won’t ever know what it’s like to not be aro or ace, so I’ve been thinking that I should start trying to find ways to create the life that I want for myself, regardless.

I’m pretty sex-neutral, and while I’d be enthusiastic about trying it at some point with the right person (provided they were cool with the fact that I don’t experience sexual attraction the same way they do), I wouldn’t be too bothered if I never had it.

But romantically, I’ve been feeling not so great recently about the fact that my brain can’t really seem to fall in love. I’m not even that lonely—I love my friends, and I’m a pretty self-sufficient person with plans to maybe go the ICI/sperm bank route when I’m older and settled in my career. But I grew up really, really loving romances in books and movies and other people’s stories about their lives, and it’s been hard for me to accept that I’ll never know what that’s like for myself.

A bit of background: the friend who I most recently had a “squish” (ambiguously aromantic crush-ish thing) on is another student at my small arts school. We’ve been friends for three years now, and become really emotionally close. It’s been a rough three years for both of us—I had never been away from my family before college, which did a number on me, and she had a TON of s

tty, traumatic experiences, one with a creepy, borderline harassing/emotionally abusive professor, and one where her roommate stalked her and made death threats against her.

(When another friend and I talked her into going to administration about the roommate, my friend had her entire reputation dragged through the mud, the other girl spread a bunch of straight-up lies about her to the rest of the student body, and after being briefly suspended, this other girl is now back at school and basically free to keep hurting my friend.)

I am almost constantly furious about the way she was treated and is still treated, but every time we try to call out the perpetrators (for example, a kid in our creative writing class posted a nasty essay about her to the whole class), they react even more violently, whether or not we involve the authorities.

The point is, after all this s

t, we’ve become SUPER emotionally close, closer than I’ve ever been with someone who isn’t part of my family. She says she loves me and calls me her “North Star” friend because I’m someone who was always there for her and never doubted her. So my tiny, intermittent possibly-romantic-maybe-not feelings for her are really, definitely off the table. My common sense is telling me that that is in NO WAY WHATSOEVER something that she needs from me, what with all the stress in her life right now. I care a lot about her, and I would feel incredibly terrible if I ever did anything that hurt her. And there’s no good reason to try to tell her that I’ve been feeling this way, because I’m actually really happy with the current extent of our friendship. It’s not like I secretly really want to try kissing her or something—emotional closeness and occasionally sitting together on the couch is pretty much all I need or want from a relationship, at least for now.

But the fact that I’ve even BEEN recently having recurring feelings for her that I could characterize as possibly romantic (the other time was much less strong, and only once) has made me wonder about possibly trying to develop that for myself. Not with my friend, obviously—see above. But I want to try to see if “falling in love”, or whatever my brain chemistry’s version of that is, is something that might work for me once I’m not quarantined with my family and it’s safe to see other people again.

So my question is, how do I go about that? I don’t really even know what to look for. Everything I’ve felt that I could categorize as romantic attraction has been towards someone I already knew super well, and I just literally don’t experience sexual attraction. What little I know about romantic interest indicates that it’s generally based on reciprocity, by which I mean that two people subtextually communicate that they find each other cool/hot/compatible/ whatever and mutually agree to try it out. But I don’t know how to navigate that for myself, because I don’t even really feel like I know enough to have a “type”, if that makes sense. It doesn’t help that I have a sensory processing disorder and get really overwhelmed in large groups of people!!

I don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings by expressing an interest that I’m not sure exists. But I don’t know how to find someone I might be interested in without somehow expressing interest myself. Writing all this down, I’m thinking my best option might just be to accept that I don’t feel romantic attraction and that’s okay, and maybe one day I’ll meet another aro person and have a queer platonic relationship (QPR). But I’m scared that if I only look for aro people, I won’t be able to find someone whose interests and emotions are very compatible with mine.

I don’t have any delusions about asking for exclusivity. I know that what I have to offer in a relationship is basically nil compared to an allosexual person, and that anyone I was partnered with would probably have romantic and sexual needs that I wouldn’t be able to completely fill on my own, no matter how willing I was to try. I’m prepared and happy to make compromises, whatever they will need to be. I feel like I have things to offer as a potential partner beyond sex and romance (and I want to be able to DO both sex and romance as well, I just know that I don’t feel either form of attraction very strongly/at all, so people would probably generally rather be with someone who “feels that way”). But I give good cuddles, I listen well and care a lot, I love discussing all sorts of weird niche things, and I’m super loyal and devoted to the people in my life. I just want to know how to get started finding people who want that from someone and are willing to look past the ace/aro thing!!

I have a thick skin and I’m not afraid of tough truths. Whatever I need to hear, I’ll listen, and any insight/help you can give would be really, really appreciated.

Thanks for your time, Doc!

Sincerely,

Best Friends Forever

DEAR BEST FRIENDS FOREVER: A lot of times I get a letter where the problem the writer has isn’t the problem they think they have. More often than not, the problem that they think they have is a symptom, rather than a cause and the answer is to address the underlying issue. In your case BFF, your problem — such as it is — is that you don’t actually have a problem so much as an issue with expectations and definitions.

Let’s tackle the most obvious issue head on: you’re somewhere on the asexual/aromantic spectrum and you’re wondering whether you can essentially “force” yourself to fall in love with someone. The issue with this framing is that love, like sexual attraction, isn’t really something you can force or learn to do. It would be one thing if, for example, you weren’t letting yourself open up to people. There are plenty of folks who are incredibly guarded, who don’t allow themselves to be vulnerable and emotionally open with people. They focus on shallow or non-committal encounters because they have a fear of rejection, being hurt or otherwise putting themselves in a vulnerable position with another person.

(This is in contrast to folks who just prefer shallow or non-committal encounters; no shame in folks not wanting more…)

That’s something that a person can learn to overcome, with therapy, with work and self-exploration. By putting in the work, they can get to a point where they feel empowered or  brave enough to actually open up to the possibility of a committed relationship. But that’s not the same as simply not being in love with someone or not being attracted to them. People have tried to force themselves to feel — or not feel — for others and it never works. Similarly, folks have tried to force themselves, or have had others try to force them to be attracted to people they aren’t attracted to. This has almost always ended badly for everyone involved.

Even people who aren’t aromantic can’t force themselves to fall in love. God knows people have tried; there’s a veritable mountain of books, products and snake-oil salesmen that all promise that they have the secret to “making” someone fall in love with you, and they all work about as well as you might think.

But the thing is: love’s goddamn complicated. Love isn’t just emotional, it’s chemical; it’s oxytocin and dopamine in the brain, firing off because we’ve got a head full of wiring that loves novelty and new experiences. But those same chemicals fire off when we have sex or achieve orgasm — part of why people can mistake REALLY liking to bang someone with love, only to discover that they don’t have any of the other qualities that they need to make a relationship work in the long term. Similarly, we can have intense emotional connections with people… but have absolutely no sexual attraction to them whatsoever. Those connections aren’t any less romantic because they’re platonic; they’re just what you might call a romantic friendship. Those sorts of friendships used to be far more commonly accepted than they are today; in fact, there were a multitude of people who believed that those friendships were more important than love, which was often seen as being fleeting and capricious.

And there are many kinds of love, too. There’s eros, or love of the body. There’s agape, or love of two souls and philios, the love between siblings and family, whether a family of blood or a family of choice. A person can experience these types of love separately or with the same person; they may never experience one of them but experience the others. Love is goddamn weird.

But our culture doesn’t just hype up romance, it hypes up limerence. The focus is on the early days of a romance, when it’s more about the chemical rush and excitement of New Relationship energy. And while that’s unquestionably a fun part of falling in love with someone, it’s not the only part… hell, it’s not even the part that lasts. The early, giddy, butterflies-and-isn’t-the-way-they-chew-their-food-adorable stage fades, and faster than we’d expect. But we’re trained to think that this is the only part of love that counts. We have damned few examples of romances that go beyond the early days of falling in love. Most of our love stories tend to end with marriage and just assume that it’s all going to sort itself out in the long run. Very few love stories are about long-term relationships, and most of the stories we see about couples in long relationships tend to be about when it all goes horribly wrong.

Hell, even Han Solo and General Leia didn’t get the happy ending we were promised at the end of Return of the Jedi.

But all of that pop culture celebration of love creates an unrealistic and unfair portrayal of what love is and what forms of love “count”.

So honestly, I’d say you’ve already been in love. You love your friend; I would go so far as to say that you have a romantic kind of friendship. Frankly that’s as real and valid and valuable as anything you might read in a romance novel or see celebrated in TV or movies. And to be perfectly honest, I kind of wish we saw more relationships like that; while I appreciate the desire for more queer representation in media, shipping has a tendency to erase platonic friendships and perpetuate the myth that emotional intimacy is the same as — or the precursor to — sexual intimacy. This has the result of accidentally devaluing the idea of a romantic friendship or a platonic lifemate, whether straight or queer.

Will you ever experience the cartoon-birds-and-cupids kind of love that people write s

tty pop songs about? I can’t say; in a world of infinite possibilities, the only answer I can give is “maybe?” Can you “learn” to feel that? Probably not. You can certainly do the things that generate oxytocin in the brain — physical touch, laughter, great conversation, even sex if you want to give that a try — but that’s not going to “make” you fall in love with someone. The only advice I can give is this:

First: let yourself be open to possibility. It’s possible that you’ll meet someone who’ll be that rare person who actually flips the switch and gives you that movie kind of love. It’s also possible that you’ll meet someone for whom a sexual connection isn’t necessarily important. Plenty of people have companionate marriages and relationships, where their relationship is based around mutual respect, companionship and yes, love… just not sex. Sometimes one or both partners will have sexual partners outside the relationship. Sometimes they won’t because sex just isn’t a priority for them. That’s as valid and valuable of a relationship as one where folks are banging out on every flat surface in the house.

Second: don’t devalue or ignore the love you do feel. Just because it’s not the “lone figure in front of crashing waves” kind of feeling doesn’t mean that it’s not love, that it’s not real or that it’s not important. The feelings you have for your friend are love, they are passionate, even if they’re not sexual or intense in the way you’re told they should be.

Third: don’t forget that you’re young. It may be hard to find someone who isn’t also on the ace/aro spectrum who wants a committed relationship while you’re in your 20s; you may not find it until your 30s, 40s or older, when your peers are more in tune with their own desires and interests. A lot of those companionate marriages I mentioned are often between people who are older… but not always. Again: there’s a world of near-infinite possibilities out there. Don’t close yourself off to the opportunities that may come your way, but don’t despair just because your ideal relationship may not be one that you’ll have in your 20s. Love isn’t any less meaningful when you’ve aged out of the 18-35 demographic, and romance isn’t any less romantic when you’ve got some gray in your hair. Love comes in its on time and in its own way. The best thing you can do is be ready for it when it arrives and in whatever form it comes in.

Good luck.

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