Newsletter

My mom raised five children. Four boys and then me – the youngest and the only girl. To this day, I hear comments like, “Wow, four boys? How did your mom do it?” and “Oh my god, she must have been so relieved to finally have you.” This orientation towards boys is what writer Ruth Whippman details in her recent book, “BoyMom.” She describes the way that we, adults in this world, can hinder boys’ development by assuming that their biology is fixed – that “boys will be boys.” While not always consciously, we often reinforce this cultural narrative.

Without even noticing, we influence caregivers’ sense of how much of an impact they can have in the development of young boys. Meanwhile, we absolutely can influence the trajectory of boys’ social-emotional capacity. In a New York Times article, Lise Eliot, a professor of neuroscience at Rosalind Franklin University and the author of “Pink Brain, Blue Brain,” comments, “brain sex differences aren’t as strong as we make them out to be.”

With this in mind, the first step in raising respectful and kind boys is to parent them (or "aunt" them) more like we do our girls. Strengthen their emotional vocabularies, build their self-regulation skills, develop their awareness of self and others, and deepen those hugs.

How do we help boys grow into respectful men? Keep doing what you’re doing, Auntie.

Talking about sex can be challenging. When a child says something sexual or asks a question about sex, I often see caregivers either abandon the comment or respond with total abandon. They either warn the child, “that’s inappropriate,” and change topics, or they over-share intimate details about sex and sexuality that the child was neither interested in nor prepared for. These responses come from both a desire to care for the child and a fear of doing wrong by them. The caretaker who avoids the question is trying to protect the child from ideas and information that won’t make sense to them. But that same avoidance is also driven by a fear of uncomfortable conversations. The caretaker who goes full-on when the child asks a simple yes or no question is trying to equip the child with all the information they might need. But that same eagerness is also driven by a fear of the child making their own mistakes.

When a child shares a comment that’s sexual in nature, when you find a porn website in their browser history, or when you overhear them making a misogynist comment, instead of taking the path of avoidance or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, the path of overeagerness, continue to do as you did and lead with curiosity. You might gently say, “I’ve never heard you say that before,” “what do you think that means?” or, “what do you know about that?”

Make space to gather more information. Not only does this approach give you more insight into what would be a situationally appropriate and developmentally appropriate response, but it also allows the child to see you take a beat and respond with curiosity. If we want our boys to be curious about their partners' and friends’ emotions, interests, wants, and boundaries, we must model these behaviors. Show kids how to ask information-gathering questions. Help them see what being an active listener looks like.

Your sister is on to something in her fears about making her sons feel guilty or like they are a threat. We know that overwhelmingly, men are the perpetrators of sexual violence.

As a caregiver, it's only natural to want to protect boys and men from this path. But your sister is right, without attention to how we do so, our attempts to keep boys from becoming perpetrators of harm can land us in a place that's no better.

Boys are aware of their role as initiators of sex in the heterosexual cultural narrative; establishing consent is a duty that comes along with that role. Meanwhile, much mainstream consent education doesn’t leave room for “grey areas” of consent. Standalone slogans like “Yes means yes,” “Ask first, ask always,” and “Without consent, it’s not sex—it’s assault” are commonplace. In many cases, young people are also learning (as they should) that because of power dynamics, people might say yes when they don’t really mean yes.

We implicitly and explicitly teach boys that the stakes are high, the responsibility falls entirely on them, and that even though “yes means yes,” sometimes, it doesn’t. This is a lot for young boys to take on, especially when their social-emotional development is often under-attended to and they don’t–according to research–feel like they have the tools to navigate their relationships in healthy ways.

When we detach ourselves from that “boys will be boys” mentality and add nuance and egalitarianism into the mix, we can better prepare our boys for what lies ahead without inducing fear, guilt, or shame. Use books, TV, and other media as jumping off points for conversations about emotional vulnerability, identity, and navigating differences. Encourage them to notice their body feelings. Help develop their language to describe what their body looks and feels like when they’re excited, sad, nervous, angry, etc. Practice perspective-taking and empathy. Ask, “How might that person be feeling right now? How do you know?”

When we believe our boys have the capacity for relational and emotional nuance, and when we treat them as such, they can become the young men we know they can be.

Thank you for bringing so much of your authentic self to this question. It’s clear how self-aware you are about both your own comfort levels and the shifting cultural norms around you. You’re processing the messaging you’re receiving from all directions, but you’re also wise to pause, question it, and take stock of your feelings.

What you’re experiencing is a perfect example of how sexual norms have rapidly evolved over the past decade. Practices like sexual strangulation (colloquially known as ‘choking’), have become increasingly mainstream, largely through their prevalence in pornography. As strangulation and similar practices become more normalized, many people find themselves caught off guard, grappling with new pressures and questioning whether they’re “good enough” in bed.

It’s a great sign that you and your partner are already having conversations about exclusivity and commitment. This shows you’ve established a foundation of trust with one another. Her feeling safe enough to share her desires about strangulation with you is a positive sign for your relationship. It’s the same trust that will be crucial for you now as you learn to express your needs and limits.

The sex you see in pornography is not always an accurate depiction of what everyone enjoys. While the growing acceptance of kink can open new pathways for pleasure, it also calls for deeper trust, communication, and mutual understanding around safety and consent. When popular culture began featuring rougher sexual dynamics, they created widespread curiosity without showcasing the extensive communication and safety practices that accompany them. This leaves many people intrigued by activities they’ve seen normalized on screen without the tools and understanding to engage in the critical conversations that experienced practitioners consider non-negotiable.

It might sound counterintuitive, but despite porn’s portrayal of sex as spontaneous, hot, and edgy, good sexual connection often requires more communication, not less. This is true whether you’re in a long-term relationship, a casual hookup, or anything in between. Your hesitation is your mind and body signaling discomfort—and that’s worth listening to.

It’s also important to name the physical realities of strangulation, even when done “lightly.” Restricting blood flow to the brain can cause serious harm, including stroke, unconsciousness, and brain damage. Unlike other forms of play where you might get warning signs from your body, oxygen deprivation can happen quickly without an alarm. It’s not about being prudish, it’s about being mindful of both your partner’s safety and your boundaries.

Similar to “having the talk” about your relationship status, it’s essential to have conversations about what safe sex looks like in your relationship. Not just when it comes to condoms and STIs, but different kinds of sex, too. You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into your question, and it’s obvious you care deeply for your partner. But it’s just as important to prioritize your own comfort and safety.

I’m also struck by the mention of your partner’s ex. Even when past relationships aren’t actively part of the conversation, comparisons can still linger beneath the surface. Gender expectations often place pressure on men to be willing to do anything sexually to prove themselves as adventurous, powerful, or “good in bed.” But declining to engage in a specific act doesn’t make you a bad partner. In fact, the thought and care that you’re placing in your approach shows that you're going above and beyond to please your partner and ensure her safety.

I recognize the fear that setting this type of boundary could be perceived as a turn-off, but if you’ve built the foundation that it sounds like you have, I encourage you to trust that it’s strong enough to survive an honest conversation like this. It might help to bring it up outside of a sexual context. If talking in person feels daunting, a text or voice note can also work and might help ease some of your anxiety.

You might say something like, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the choking thing, and I really appreciate you trusting me with that. I understand it’s becoming more common, but it’s not something I feel comfortable doing. I’d love to explore other ways we could create similar intensity in our sex life if you’re open to that.” This approach affirms her desires without shaming them, names your boundaries, and leaves the door open for other sexual activities you’re both interested in exploring together.

A relationship built on mutual respect has a much stronger foundation than one where either partner feels pressured to override their discomfort. If she truly cares for you (which it sounds like she does), she'll respect your boundaries and work with you to find common ground, and maybe even something new.

Sexual compatibility isn't about performing every act your partner might desire or fantasize about, it's about building a shared space where both partners feel safe, heard, and genuinely connected. The right partner will value your honesty more than your willingness to do something that doesn’t feel right.

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Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable submission.

First, I want to commend you for how reflective and self-aware you are in processing these feelings. It’s completely understandable that even after resolving things with your partner, you still feel an underlying pressure to maintain a certain sexual frequency. Even in relationships where we feel loved and safe, social norms and pressures can find ways to creep in. The fact that you’re thinking deeply about this and seeking to understand the root of these feelings shows how much you value both your relationship and your own emotional well-being.

It makes sense that this realization has left you feeling like there’s an unspoken expectation or duty to fulfill, even though your partner has reassured you. When we internalize the idea that sex is something we “owe” our partner, it can be difficult to separate desire from obligation. These subtle pressures can shape our experiences of intimacy, even where communication is strong and both partners are committed to respecting boundaries.

Logically, you know that your boyfriend loves you and doesn't want you to feel pressured, but your body and emotions may still be holding onto that moment as evidence that your relationship security is tied to sexual frequency.

It’s common in long-term relationships for partners to experience shifts in sexual frequency, or to find themselves temporarily misaligned in their desires. Your boyfriend was expressing both a need and an anxious thought about your attraction to him. But your feelings were equally valid; you were dealing with physical health challenges that directly impacted your experience of sex and pleasure. When both people’s needs compete in this way, it can create an emotional imprint that doesn’t simply lift because you’ve resolved it with open communication.

Right now, it sounds like your mind is caught in a cycle where sex feels like something you should do to keep the relationship stable. Even though you genuinely want to have sex, the feeling that it’s an unspoken expectation makes it feel less organic and more like a responsibility.

The key to shifting this is reframing what sexual intimacy means in your relationship so it feels like a shared, evolving experience rather than something to maintain.

An important part of reclaiming your agency in sexual experiences is recognizing that desire and appetite for sex can shift depending on a variety of factors, including health and stress. One way you can start shifting this mindset is exploring how you and your partner each understand what “working on your sex life” means. If “working on your sex life” has become synonymous with maintaining a certain frequency, that could be further reinforcing the pressure you feel.

Instead of thinking about whether you’re having “enough” sex, what would happen if you asked yourself what you want from your sexual experiences? Consider:

- What makes you feel excited about sex? Whether by yourself or with your partner?
- When do you feel most connected to your partner?

Since you’ve already opened the conversation with your partner, you’ve made great strides toward making it an ongoing conversation. But sometimes, even with the reassurance that there are no expectations, our past experiences tell us otherwise. Consider addressing this with him in a way that prioritizes your emotional experience and needs.

“I know we’ve talked about working on our sex life, and I appreciate how supportive you’ve been. Logically, I know there’s no quota, but emotionally, I still catch myself feeling pressure. I want to have sex and experience desire without feeling like it’s an obligation. I’d love to explore other ways to connect that help reinforce this.”

This approach centers your feelings rather than making him feel like he’s done something wrong. It also invites him to be a collaborator in evolving your sexual connection, rather than finding fault in his feelings or needs.

Here are some practical ways to shift this pattern:

- Experimenting with different kinds of intimacy without the expectation for intercourse
- Practice letting go of “shoulds.” When you catch yourself thinking “I should initiate soon” or “we should be having sex more,” pause and check-in with yourself
- Focus on organic moments of connection rather than tracking frequency, allowing intimacy to unfold naturally in new and unexpected ways
- Check-in with yourself again: What do you want from these experiences?

Remember these suggestions aren't about creating new pressures or expectations, but finding ways to reconnect with your own desires and needs.

One of the biggest challenges in long-term relationships is accepting that sexual desire and frequency will ebb and flow. Instead of thinking of your sex life as something that needs to maintain a certain level to be “good” or “normal,” try reframing it as something that is constantly evolving.

It’s clear that you and your partner have a strong foundation of trust and communication. You deserve to feel free, excited, genuinely connected in your sex life. And with time, continued reflection, and communication, I believe you’ll arrive at a place that honors your relationship’s presence and your individual needs.

I am of the professional opinion that body count is a silly metric.

Though it’s presented like some sort of objective data point, it’s often used to shame people. It has no direct connection with your sexual health, the values you hold, or your worth as a human. If the goal behind asking about body count is to understand someone’s character or experiences, there are far better questions we could be asking one another. Not to mention that what qualifies as a “high” body count is entirely subjective and based on personal beliefs, cultural conditioning, and the social norms of the day. I once made a TikTok where I referenced my body count, a number I thought was blatantly high (well above 15), and was met with comments from other women saying mine was practically nothing!

First thing's first: no one's sexual history should ever be weaponised against them.

You don’t need to justify your past (to your boyfriend or yourself)—not with the number of dates you and the person went on, with the quality of the person, or your high sex drive.

That said, I can also empathise with the fact that hearing about a partner’s sexual past can evoke jealousy and discomfort in a monogamous relationship. Jealousy is often irrational—we have no reason to feel that a relationship is threatened by simply knowing our partners have had sex before—but it’s a human response that many people experience. In your case, this might be a learning moment for both of you. Perhaps you’ve discovered there might be boundaries you’d like to set before conversations about one another’s dating history, and it’s important for you each to be honest with yourselves about what you do and don’t want to know.

Sex means different things to different people. For your boyfriend, it seems sex carries significant emotional weight, a form of “giving yourself” to someone that requires trust and commitment. There’s nothing wrong with that perspective at all, but it does feel unfair for him to project those standards onto you, especially when it involves judging the past version of you he didn’t even know. People grow, change, and come to relationships with different experiences.

Part of loving someone is accepting the entirety of who they are, including their past.

That being said, I have to respectfully disagree with some of your boyfriend’s reasoning. I don’t think the women’s sexual freedom movement is to blame for the lack of effort some men bring to dating. Sure, women have become ‘more available’ as we begin to remove shame from female sexuality, but that line of reasoning seems like a very roundabout way to blame women for men’s behavior.

In truth, a lot of the strategizing many guys do to get women to have sex with them is coercive, and I would claim has much more to do with masculinity and rape culture than sex positivity.

But let’s set my opinions aside for a moment, because you asked for advice. It’s awesome you’re able to acknowledge that you don’t regret your past, though it sounds like you’re wrestling with some guilt. Our decisions and interactions have led us to where we are now - we don’t know who we’d be without our past. It may be worth sitting with this question: "Have I always felt this guilt, or is it a new feeling that’s prompted by my boyfriend’s opinions?"

Because sex is so tied to morality in our society, people (especially women) are prone to self-judgement.

We rarely give ourselves grace after having "less than ideal" sexual interactions. Instead of acknowledging what that sexual interaction may have taught us about ourselves, we can become subjected to a shaming voice inside our heads: “you should have known better/done better.”

You’ve described your sexual past as pleasurable, full of experiences that helped you understand what you wanted in a relationship. Isn’t that worth celebrating? How could you have figured those things out without exploring them for yourself? Especially in a society that often fails to provide sex education, the only way many of us learn is through personal experience.

As far as practical advice goes, you should talk to your boyfriend, not necessarily to defend yourself but to express how his comments make you feel. Explain "intent vs impact" to him - even though he may not mean to make you feel bad, he is. You both should work together in coming to a consensus about how you’ll talk about this moving forward.

Regardless of who’s "right" or "wrong", one thing is for certain: you can’t change the past. What you can change is how you communicate and support one another in the present. It may be helpful to remind your boyfriend that who you are today—the person he loves—is shaped by the choices and experiences you’ve had. The same is true for him.

Teaching boundary-setting and consent to our kids is challenging.

When we were teens, we mostly learned about sex and relationships through mainstream media, confident but uninformed older siblings, and, as you mentioned, limited sex education. If having these conversations feels challenging, you’re not alone. Whether you’re a parent or childfree, we all have unlearning and new learning to do. Thankfully, there are more resources than ever to help you along the way.

Children act according to the behavior and norms they observe. When a child watches a movie in which the heartthrob teenage boy tells his friends that they’re not allowed to date a certain girl because she’s ‘his’, they’re learning that circumventing a woman’s agency is okay, and maybe even romantic. When a child overhears us telling our friend, “I really don’t have the energy to go but I feel he’ll be mad if I don’t,” they’re learning to conceal the truth about their capacity and make decisions based on others’ emotions.

These instances alone aren’t going to change your child’s sexual or relational trajectory but when they regularly observe these behaviors, especially without other intervention and education, their own behaviors will be impacted.

Upon reading this, you might be tempted to hide the remote and start taking all phone calls from your bedroom. I promise, there’s a better way forward.

Role modeling

You already know some of the key things you want your child to know – how to set boundaries and her right to say no. Consider the ways that you may have undermined these messages through your own behavior and share this with your daughter. This might sound like, “I want you to know that it’s okay to say no. I struggle to say no sometimes. I feel like it’ll be my fault if they’re upset with my decision and I hate that feeling so I just try to keep them happy. I’m working on remembering that their feelings belong to them and it’s okay if they’re disappointed by my no. I’m going to try to be more consistent with this – for my own sake and yours. I want to be a good model of boundary-setting for you.”

Pause and give her time to respond. She might share similar feelings or just roll her eyes. Not engaging doesn’t mean she didn’t hear you. Keep awareness around when you’re saying yes and no. You can narrate the thoughts in your head like, “Oh gosh, I said yes again without thinking. I’m going to call her back.”

You can even ask your daughter if they’re willing to support you by calling you out when you instinctually say yes or say yes when you’d rather say no. Teenagers love telling their parents they messed up. Use this to your advantage to make the learning more interactive.

Media as a springboard

As for those movies, TV shows, and videos on social media that might be harmful to our kids’ understanding of relationships and consent, find out what kind of media literacy her school is focused on while also taking efforts into your own hands. When you watch a movie together, talk about certain characters’ decisions. If you witness a scene where a character says ‘yes’ after saying ‘no’ many times, you might say, “I get why she agreed there, he kept on begging. What do you think about that?”.

You also mentioned that you want your daughter to know how being drunk can impact consent. You can use media as an entry point to this conversation, too. Focus on getting her to think critically about the effect of intoxicants on the brain and the kind of sex a person might want to have and how alcohol can play a part there. It can boost confidence and lead to women asking for what they want but alcohol is also often involved in sexual assault. It’s important to teach your daughter about what consent is and isn’t and it’s important for your daughter to learn how to make thoughtful decisions in complicated situations. These conversations will help with that.

Your daughter is lucky to have a proactive parent like you. Thank you for your question.

It sounds like you’re experiencing a lot of complicated emotions right now, and that’s completely okay.

You are allowed to feel upset, conflicted, and unsure about your partner’s porn use—especially given how he’s accessing it. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with watching adult content, everyone has their own boundaries and comfort levels when it comes to porn. That’s why ongoing communication is essential in any relationship. I think it’s amazing that you’ve already put effort into expressing your feelings. I wish he would’ve thought about them more, but porn is a deeply personal topic and navigating it with a partner can be challenging. Ultimately, you have the right to define what feels acceptable in your relationship, and if his porn use continues to make you uncomfortable, it’s absolutely worth addressing.

It sounds like your boyfriend isn’t fully clear on where you stand or what you need from him. That doesn’t mean your feelings don’t matter, it just means that a more direct conversation is necessary so that you can both get on the same page. If you decide to bring this up, you might want to start by clarifying your boundaries. You could say, “I know we’ve talked about this before, but I need to be clear—watching porn makes me uncomfortable, and I’d like to understand where we both stand on this.” Or, “I know watching porn is normal for a lot of people, but it’s not something I feel comfortable with. I don’t want to be controlling, but I do want to share how this makes me feel and get your perspective.”

You can learn about his perspective by asking him questions regarding his views on porn and ethical concerns. You could say, “Would you be open to setting boundaries around porn use together? What would that look like for you?” Or, “How do you view porn in the context of our relationship?” His responses can help you gauge whether your values align and if this is something you want to work through together.

That said, what you discovered about how he’s consuming porn adds another layer to the conversation, but it needs to be had.

I believe there is a way to take responsibility for invading his privacy while still shifting the conversation toward the bigger issue—how his porn consumption is affecting you. You could say something like: “I know it wasn’t cool of me to look at your phone, and I take responsibility for that. At the same time, I can’t ignore what I found and how it makes me feel. Can we talk about it?”

It’s also important to express why the specific way he’s engaging with porn makes you uncomfortable. Personally, I’d be concerned because many of these forums engage in content piracy, which can exploit sex workers who rely on OnlyFans for their income. You might share these concerns or have additional ones, all of which are valid. Having an open and honest conversation can help you understand his perspective while also giving you the space to express your own.

Finally, take the time to reflect on what all of this means for you. Is this something you feel you can work through and rebuild trust around? Are you open to compromise? Or has it shifted how you see your partner and the relationship? Your feelings matter, and you deserve a relationship where your boundaries and concerns are respected.

I’m sending you all the love and support as you navigate this.