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I can feel that reflecting on this is causing you worry. Questioning ourselves is healthy but it can also be an uncomfortable place as we can find ourselves in confusing spirals. Good on you for staying with it and taking the time.

You importantly named the male gaze early on. As a societal lens, it shapes everything to be understood through a heterosexual male lens especially in media and art. Women are depicted as sexual objects to be consumed, as you’ve named, and that’s why when you mentioned how your “eyes are drawn” to media depictions of women’s bodies I thought “of course they are”. Patriarchy has told you (and all of us!) to look at and consume women and femininity; ever seen ads selling food with a picture of a naked woman? What’s the relevance? There is none. Patriarchy just wants you to look at it so it can make money and it knows we’re socialised to consume the female form.

Similarly, your eyes are drawn to an underwear ad or vulva in a museum – this is a symptom of this socialisation. That doesn’t make you a bad person, it makes you a man in patriarchy. The discomfort you’re feeling in response might be you noticing your brain doing something it’s been socialised into that feels almost involuntary. Remember, a bus advert or art piece are not people that could be harmed by being objectified, but it’s healthy to worry about what this signals about how you perceive women more broadly, and if you’re noticing this being a constant interruption to your day then you’re right to be wary of it. Be compassionate to yourself though in the process.

Let’s discuss the distinction between “looking” and “objectifying”. As a man, knowing and talking about this with your mates is super important.

Objectifying someone with our eyes is when the subject – in this case a woman – ceases to be understood by the viewer as a complex person with feelings and needs but instead becomes an object purely for exercising the viewers desire or impulses in that moment. There is very little connection, consideration or empathy towards them and the dehumanisation means the viewer’s satisfaction becomes more important to them than the subject’s humanity or safety.‍

Now, let's focus on looking at women rather than media designed to make you look: have you ever noticed an absence of consideration, empathy for women in these moments? Is there a compulsion to keep looking, to consume, or do you struggle to look away? Or when you look at a woman, do you see her as a human who is attractive to you, notice yourself looking and enjoying the experience, before becoming aware of how it might make her feel and looking away? Notice how these are different. One is consuming someone with no regard for their humanity and the other is finding looking at someone pleasurable whilst keeping their humanity central.

The guilt and shame you mentioned feeling at receiving visual pleasure is coming from somewhere, and it's important you are able to excavate where: is it because you are objectifying women with your gaze and want it to stop, or because you are defining looking respectfully as “objectifying” simply because you are a man attracted to women? Maybe journaling on this could be good for you.

Reflecting on how often you spend time in spaces dedicated to engaging with women where the male gaze is removed might also be an enlightening experience – head to some great exhibitions, theatre, watch some great feminist movies etc. I’d also recommend the documentary The Feminist on Cellblock Y and bell hooks’ The Will To Change to continue your learning on patriarchy and masculinity.

Finally, you spoke about wanting to be an “enlightened man” and I sense that you might see this as a destination to get to. I want to gently offer a reframe; becoming a compassionate, safe person who embodies the type of society they want to live in is a constant practice. We live in a patriarchal system socialising us into behaviours in new ways all the time, so seeing this as a destination is a little bit like wanting to get to the point of having perfectly clean teeth one day despite always eating. We brush our teeth every day for a reason, right? This type of growth is an every day + forever thing, too.

You will never arrive at being the perfect feminist man, because the perfect feminist man has no room to grow.

Be prepared to do what you’re doing now: sitting in discomfort, asking questions, and bettering yourself for you and your community, all of it imperfectly. And know that you will mess up again and again, but that messing up is a chance to learn how accountability and learning repair deepens your relationships, your respect for yourself and your own humanity over the course of your life.

Commit to the journey, not the destination, and keep asking yourself the hard questions. Good luck!

Written by Gina Martin

It’s incredibly brave to name these fears and speak honestly about the tension between your values and your desires. As a 30-year-old who grew up in a Christian household, I’m still unpacking a lot of this too. I still remember sitting on the floor during Sunday School as a shy 11-year-old while the pastor passed around a single, beautiful rose. She told us not to be careful with it. Some kids ripped off petals, others tossed it across the room, a few passed it gently. When the rose returned to her, petal-less and bruised, she held it up and said, “This is what happens when you give yourself away before marriage.”

Whether or not your experience with Christianity looked exactly like that, this story reflects a common message in purity culture: that sex before marriage diminishes your worth. These kinds of metaphors, sometimes taught with good intentions, can leave lasting emotional wounds, and a lot of unanswered questions about sex. The idea that a “piece of your soul” goes with each partner can create deep fear, guilt, and shame, especially when you're starting to make your own choices about sex and relationships.

It’s important to say: these messages are not the entirety of Christianity, and many people of faith find ways to hold onto their spirituality while embracing a more compassionate, empowering view of their sexuality. Still, the legacy of purity culture is real, and it can shape how we see our bodies, our relationships, and even our sense of self. The good news is: unlearning shame is possible and you deserve to have pleasurable sex. 

That said, I understand why you feel scared. It’s common to worry that the experience might be painful physically, emotionally, or spiritually, no matter your faith background. Whatever the reason, fear deserves to be met with compassion, not pressure.

To me, the fear you’re experiencing is an indicator that you’re being thoughtful about your decisions, and that’s a good thing. Paying attention to your body, your boundaries, and your values is one of the most important ways to care for yourself and your sexual health. So rather than pushing those feelings aside, give yourself space to sit with them. Start exploring where they come from, and gently ask yourself what you want sex to look and feel like. You are in control of what you do, when you do it, and who you do it with.

Give yourself permission to take things slowly

If and when you decide you're ready to take that next step, there are ways to make the experience feel safer, emotionally and physically. You don’t have to rush into anything, and you definitely don’t have to follow anyone else’s timeline. Taking it slow isn’t just okay, it’s encouraged! Moving at your own pace builds trust with yourself and helps create a foundation for a more comfortable, connected experience.

Explore your own body first

One of the best ways to feel more grounded and confident is by exploring your own body before sharing it with someone else. Masturbation, despite the stigma many of us were raised with, can be a powerful way to learn what feels good, what feels uncomfortable, and what helps you feel safe and connected during sex.

There’s no one “right” way to do it. If you’re just starting out, create a private, relaxed space and use your hands to touch the parts of your body that feel good. External touch, especially around the vulva and clitoris, can be incredibly pleasurable and informative, it’s how many people with vulvas experience orgasm. You deserve to feel pleasure without shame or fear, and those self-love sessions can play a big role in helping you build confidence and trust in your body.

Communicate with your partner

If and when you're with someone else, communication is everything. Talk openly about your boundaries, your fears, your needs, and safer sex practices. You might say something like:

• “I want to take this really slow.”
• “Can we check in with each other as we go?”
• “I want us to use protection. Are you comfortable with condoms?”

A partner who respects you will care about your comfort, your safety, and your emotional well-being, not just the physical experience. 

Dealing with pain

A lot of people worry that their first time is going to hurt, and while that’s a possibility, it doesn’t have to. Pain is often caused by tension, lack of arousal, not enough lubrication, or moving too quickly. So preparation is key. To help prevent discomfort, focus on:

• Using plenty of lube (water-based or silicone-based if using condoms)
• Spending lots of time on foreplay
• Creating a relaxed environment
• Listening to your body and checking in with your partner

Your body and mind need time to ease into things. Arousal isn’t just physical, it’s mental and emotional too which is why foreplay is so broad. Foreplay can be anything that helps you feel prepared and turned on. That might mean having a slow, intimate date, engaging in playful or deep conversation, taking a warm bath, wearing something that makes you feel sexy, or simply cuddling, kissing, and touching before going further.

Figure out what gets you in the mood and don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. Check in with your partner before, during, and after sex. This helps build trust and ensures you’re not pushing past your limits. If anything starts to feel painful, say something. You’re allowed to pause. You’re allowed to stop. You never owe anyone a full sexual experience that ends with orgasm. 

Aftercare

Just like your body and mind need time to ease into sex, they also need time to ease back out of it. That’s where aftercare comes in. Aftercare is all about caring for yourself and your partner after sex. And it doesn’t have to be complicated. At its core, aftercare is about respect, presence, and checking in with each other. That might look like cuddling, talking about how you’re feeling, journaling, watching a comfort show, taking a warm shower, sharing a snack, going for a walk, or listening to music—whatever helps you feel safe, grounded, and emotionally okay. Aftercare is especially helpful if you’re navigating lingering shame or anxiety. It’s a way to remind yourself: that was fun and I’m okay. 

Whether you wait, explore solo, or decide to have sex with a partner, you are allowed to take your time and choose what feels right for you. And no matter what you choose, your worth is never diminished.

‍

Thank you for asking such a thoughtful question with care and consideration, not only for your friend, but the survivor's stories and self-preservation, too.

This situation certainly warrants care and isn't a cut-and-dry answer. Your submission starts from a place of curiosity and honesty, in addition to admitting that you "don't know" how you'd navigate this if you were them. I want to focus on that statement and ask you to pause there. I think, based on your question, we're getting a revelation from your gut/intuition. You know something is off here. You're listening softly, and it sounds like you want to take action, but it also sounds like you feel you need to tread lightly.

I would invite you to lean back into that feeling of intuition and ask yourself, where do you get the most stuck on what to do? When you say you "don't know" what you'd do if you were them, what feelings arise? This is not only a way to help you process what you've heard, but also help you get clarity on how you feel about the situation and the many emotions involved. A feelings wheel may also be a helpful tool for you to further dissect your emotions.

From your submission, it's unclear how you came across this information (i.e., a night out, social media, etc.), but I also hear a fine line between wanting to preserve and validate the survivors' stories while also finding a way to find and communicate the truth. So let's parse out what comes next.

First, I hear you wanting to validate these stories, and I think we should honor them.

That value system lives within you. Trust it. Once you've taken time to reflect and get more clarity about your own feelings, it's time to consider how to approach your friend. This conversation deserves intentionality, not a casual mention between topics, but dedicated time and space where you both can process and have room to breathe.

You may feel pressure to have this conversation in person, and if you do, safety matters. This is a fragile situation that could elicit rage, disbelief, sadness, or a shutdown. Your friend deserves a space where she can feel all of this without being exposed or ambushed.

Consider a private setting, like your house, her apartment, or a quiet park. Somewhere she won't feel publicly exposed. Let her know ahead of time that you need to talk about something sensitive. Frame it honestly: "I'm not sure how to broach this, but I feel compelled to share something with you." While it may create some anxiety, it gives her mental space to prepare rather than being blindsided.

When you're ready to have the conversation, lead with compassion but be direct: "I heard something that's been weighing on me, and I care about you too much not to share it. Someone who knows [his name] told me about a specific incident where he sexually assaulted their friend. This is the second time I've heard something like this about [his name]. I need you to know because I want you to be safe and have all the information to make your own decisions. I take these statements seriously, and I would want to know if I were you."

There may be awkwardness or a long pause. Lean into it. This conversation requires space. Be prepared for the wide array of emotions. Your friend may immediately deny it, react in anger, question you, shut down, or say she needs time to process and can't talk further. All of these are normal and valid. Your job isn't to convince her of anything; it's to deliver the information you believe she deserves to know and hold space for whatever comes next.

On Verification and Belief

You asked whether you should "end things without verification," and I want to address this head-on because it's at the heart of your question. The answer is that this isn't your relationship to end, and verification is more complicated than you might think in these cases.

First, understand that in personal relationships, we're not operating in a court of law. You don't need "proof beyond a reasonable doubt" to take information seriously or to be concerned for your friend's safety. When someone shares that they or someone they know was assaulted (especially with specific details) that deserves to be believed and taken seriously.

Second, what would verification even look like here? A police report? A conviction? The vast majority of sexual assaults are never reported, and even fewer result in prosecution.

Yes, you're hearing this secondhand, which adds complexity. But you now know that two separate people in two separate situations this year have identified a man your friend is dating as having committed sexual assault. That's a pattern. That's information. Your body already told you it’s something you personally can’t ignore.

Your responsibility isn't to investigate or determine guilt. It's to share what you've heard so your friend can make informed decisions about her own safety. She gets to decide what she does with that information, including whether she believes it, whether she stays, whether she investigates further herself.

On Forgiveness and Accountability

You also asked whether forgiveness should be possible. Let's be clear about whose forgiveness we're talking about.

The survivors get to decide whether they forgive their assailant. That's their story, their healing journey, their choice. No one else gets to make that determination or pressure them toward forgiveness as some kind of moral ideal.

Your friend is in a different position. She wasn't the one harmed (that we know of), so it's not her forgiveness to grant. What she can decide is whether she wants to be in a relationship with someone who has harmed others, whether she believes accountability has happened, and what her own boundaries and values tell her to do. It’s also not your friend’s job to rehabilitate someone who has caused harm.

The harder truth is that patterns of sexual violence tend to continue. This person has been named by two different people in two different contexts this year alone. Your friend deserves to know that staying with someone like this means accepting significant risk to her own safety, even if she has evidence to the contrary.

Supporting Your Friend Through Her Process

After you've shared what you know, your friend gets to make her own choices, even if you disagree with them. She might stay with him. She might need time to process before deciding. She might end things immediately. She might even need space from you for a while. Whatever she chooses, your job is to remain a safe, non-judgmental person in her life.

That doesn't mean you can't have boundaries. You can say, "I support you, and I'm here for you, and I trust your decision.” If you need to create distance to stay aligned with your morals, you could add, “I also can't be around him or pretend everything is fine if you choose to stay with him." You can express concern while respecting her autonomy.

If it feels right, keep checking in. Not with judgment, but with curiosity about how she's feeling and whether she feels safe. Watch for signs of escalation or harm. Make sure she knows you're there whenever she needs you, whether that's tomorrow or six months from now when she's ready to leave.

Resources and Safety Planning

Encourage your friend to trust her gut. If something feels off, it probably is. If she's noticing controlling behavior, boundary violations, or anything that makes her uncomfortable, those are warning signs worth paying attention to. Have resources ready for local sexual assault advocacy organizations and domestic violence resources if things escalate. You don't need to push these on her immediately, but knowing they exist and being able to offer them when she's ready can be invaluable, and give you a sense of purpose and action.

Trust Yourself

You started this submission by saying you didn't know what to do. But I think you do know. You asked how to prioritize the survivors' stories while keeping your friend safe, and the answer is that you do both by telling her the truth. You honor the survivors by believing their experiences and taking it seriously enough to act on it. You honor your friend by trusting her with information she deserves to have about someone she's intimate with.

Thank you for caring enough about both your friend and these survivors to ask this question. That care is exactly what will guide you through this conversation.

‍

The first thing I want you to know is that you are not making a big deal out of nothing and I am so thankful that you wrote in. This is exactly the right place to reach out. It sounds like you’ve been carrying this weight on your own and writing in is the first, important step in choosing not to continue doing that. In doing this, you’re telling yourself that the impact of something bad that happened to you is not yours to carry alone. It isn’t, and I hope I can hold some of the weight for you if only for the time it takes you to read this response.
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Firstly, I am so sorry that this experience, which should have been a safe and enjoyable one, turned into something different. Sexual experiences shouldn’t go further than we are comfortable with and your sexual partner had a responsibility to check in with you throughout sex to ensure that each act, activity or development of an interaction was something you genuinely wanted to be part of. The fact that this didn’t happen is not on you.
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You mentioned that you “didn’t speak up” and are coming to realise that you had a freeze response in the moment. I want to get clear about what this is, because you followed this realisation by sharing that you haven’t told the people close to you about what happened due to a fear that they may ask why you “didn’t get yourself out of the situation”. Wanting to protect yourself from hearing this from loved ones is absolutely understandable because it’s victim blaming. You are under no obligation to have conversations with people who can’t support you with care. Victim blaming is harmful and unhelpful. The response you think they may give is also deeply unrealistic. I want you to read this next sentence a few times: someone who is in a dangerous, unsafe, or vulnerable situation can never respond in the “wrong” way. We do not get to choose how we respond in those moments because our brain chooses for us.

A freeze response is one of the five – that we currently know of – trauma responses to unsafety or perceived unsafety.

I mention perceived unsafety because these responses can happen for different reasons to different people: being unsafe, feeling unsafe, when we perceive something might signal unsafety is coming (whether it does or not), or in response to traumatic memories that trigger us even though we are currently safe. Those “Five Fs” represent instinctual functions of fight, flight, freeze, fawn or flop. Evolutionarily, we really needed them when we were in danger. Have you ever heard a loud noise and jumped out of your skin? That’s fight or flight mode kicking in for a moment before you realise you’re okay. These responses have to be instantaneous in order to keep you safe so when our brains kick into this mode, our reasoning parts of the brain (that are required to strategise or make decisions) go offline because it would take too much time.

That’s why it's deeply unhelpful and incredibly unrealistic to ask someone why they didn’t try to override their brain’s fear response and bring their decision making centre back online to “get themselves out of the situation”. It is also incredibly harmful because it places the burden on you, not the person who made the situation unsafe and sends a completely untrue message that you could have made this turn out differently. You couldn’t have. You were at the mercy of your brain trying to protect you. Not speaking up at that moment was not your fault. It was your partner’s responsibility to ensure your comfort and safety and ask. And besides, you can speak up. You’re doing it right now.

You said in your message that people mostly expect you to be able to handle things on your own.

This must feel like pressure. Do you expect the same of yourself? I want you to ask yourself that and take time to explore it. You’re absolutely right that there is stigma placed on male victims and survivors.

Dominant expectations of masculinity raise boys, men and people socialised into masculinity to become self-sufficient individuals who solve things alone, perform stoicism, remain in control of everything and never show “weakness” (which is a stand-in word for anything from vulnerability and sensitivity to sincerity). Our culture encourages and rewards this all the time, so it’s very common that male victims and survivors simply don’t have vulnerable conversations about what happened or how they’re feeling.

It’s also unsurprising that you feel you’re expected to solve things alone.

But that doesn’t mean you should, or that you have to. Would you want someone you love to keep this to themselves forever? Or would you want them to tell you and let you hold it with them? We are social beings. We’re not meant to disconnect from each other when we need each other the most, and from a physiological perspective, when you’ve been through an experience that was unsafe, a conversation with a safe, caring person is exactly what your brain and nervous system needs.

That‘s why I’m going to ask you to identify someone not only close to you, but who you think would do a relatively good job at holding space for you and having a conversation about this. Just one person. Next, you’re going to think about how you’d feel most comfortable going about it. This is about your comfort. You decide how this goes. Where would you like to be? What would help ease any nerves? Remember, it doesn’t have to look how it does on TV or in movies; maybe you want to go to the pub. Maybe you’d prefer to sit in the sun and chat or maybe you’d really struggle face to face and would prefer to write a message or a letter. If even that feels like a stretch, you could share this message and response with them. The only advice I would give, is to prep the person a little bit by telling them you need to talk about/tell them something difficult you recently went through that you haven’t told anyone yet. By giving them a sense of what’s going on they’ll be able to prepare themselves and will be more likely to show up how you might need them to.

It’s also possible that you might not have someone in your life who can have this conversation with compassion and care.

If that’s the case, working with a therapist who specialises in this area could be really helpful if you can afford it. Having a space to put down that weight you mentioned, process the experience, make decisions with a professional about where you want to go from here, and even explore the expectations placed on you as a man that could have stopped you seeking support could be really important for your wellbeing now as well as your future and relationships.
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If you are really struggling to talk about it and don’t feel ready to tell someone, maybe start by journaling and exploring what might be stopping you. Working towards being able to talk is a great start and might take some time. Whatever happens next should be about you, lead by you and for you.
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I hope this helped in some way. Look after yourself and good luck.

As we get older and move into long-term relationships, many of us eventually encounter the moment when one or both partners realizes: “Wait, we have different desires.” Maybe it shows up as feeling like you’re always the one initiating physical touch out in public, or as more subtle moments where there’s a sense one partner is more often in the mood than the other. Sex education didn’t prepare us for this.

So, how do you talk about it? Is it a sign your relationship is doomed? Let me tell you now that this is a perfectly normal experience, it happens to virtually everyone, and there is, in fact, hope.

I see what you’re experiencing as rooted in the same disconnect between people with mismatched libidos: physical touch is more than just intimacy, it can be a way of reassuring your partner that you care for them and want to feel connected in everyday moments. When one person wants that more often than the other, or in different contexts, it’s easy to feel confused about how to move forward.

In thinking about physical touch, I’ve personally never loved “love languages” as a scientific framework. There are a lot of other theories in relationship psychology that, to me, hold more weight. If you’re ever bored and feel like Googling, attachment theory and John Gottman’s “Four Horses of the Apocalypse" are more thoroughly researched. But love languages is the one that seeped through the cracks into mainstream conversation. By now, most people know the concept: that we feel most loved through one or many of five distinct ways; words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time, receiving gifts, or physical touch. I don’t necessarily think finding someone with the same love language is the end-all-be-all to resolving conflicts or feeling cared for, after all many of us would like all five of those qualities in a partner. I do think, though, that the rise in understanding of love languages helps us put words to some of our needs.

The framework teaches us that intimacy and touch aren’t always about satisfying a purely physical need for pleasure, but can be a type of communication that portrays love and a desire to be emotionally close. Physical touch is clearly important to your girlfriend. Maybe it’s important for you, too, but that need shows up in a different way, privately.

The reason I bring up love languages — and what I do actually like about them — is that they offer accessible language for talking about our needs, which is exactly what you two should continue doing. The fact that you both have already started this conversation is great! Coming to a conclusion requires effectively communicating what PDA signifies to her and why it makes you uncomfortable, so that you can reach understanding and decide how to move forward together.

From what you’ve shared about why your girlfriend finds PDA meaningful, it seems that for her, resistance to PDA feels like rejection. For women especially, who are often socialized into the role of being pursued rather than pursuing in dating, rejection may feel unfamiliar, unexpected, and therefore especially scary. We’re never taught how to cope with this fear of rejection. Healthy ways to process this could include reminding her that your boundary around PDA is not an act of personal rejection, but rather a limit to what you’re willing to do in a relationship. And even if it were, it wouldn’t define her worth as a person. Reminders of her desirability and importance within the relationship could help ground her in a more accurate and affirming perspective.

To answer your question more directly, I would never encourage you to betray your own boundaries to appease someone else. What you’re expressing is certainly a boundary and a healthy one: you’re communicating a need that would make you comfortable in a relationship, without controlling someone else’s behavior. Boundary setting doesn’t have to be framed as “putting a foot down”, rather naming what matters to you so someone else can know and love you as you authentically are. Many people share discomfort with PDA for the same reasons — that they associate physical touch with privacy, so you’re not alone in that.

Whether this becomes detrimental to your relationship depends on both of you, but it sounds like you’re invested in working it out, and I certainly think you can. There are ways to communicate your boundary that maximize understanding while minimizing feelings of rejection or hurt:

• “My boundary around PDA is about my personal comfort, as opposed to how I feel about you”
• “Physical touch is something that I associate with privacy. While we see this differently, it doesn’t mean I’m embarrassed by you.”
• “It’s important to me that my boundary is respected, but it’s just as important that you feel valued and cared for.”
• “Are there things I can say that would reassure you in moments when I don’t want physical touch?”
• Perhaps putting a name to the type of physical contact that makes you uncomfortable vs. those that feel okay, can help you plan for future outings.
• If showing affection feels okay in private moments, maybe you can make an effort to show physical affection in those settings that are more comfortable for you.

I hope if there’s one thing you take away, it’s that this isn’t about choosing between ignoring your needs or shutting your partner down. Try seeing the conversation as just that, a conversation, not a conflict. You’re already tackling the hardest part by starting to talk about it. Continuing down that path, with thoughtfulness about how you communicate is where you’ll find mutual understanding.

“Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

– Elizabeth Stone, Author

Before we jump in, I want to highlight how meaningful the phrasing of your question is. You ask about how you prepare your children rather than how you protect them. Too often, victims and survivors are blamed for not protecting themselves (or for not having parents, friends, or partners protect them). But a failure of protection isn’t the cause of sexual violence. Sexual violence is the result of patriarchy, transphobia, racism, ableism, our general culture of entitlement, and ultimately, the actions of the person perpetrating harm. Especially when our children are young, protection is part of the equation, but a preparedness mentality is what our children really need. Similar to how we can prepare our children for the reality of natural disasters, we can prepare our children for the reality of mistreatment, violence and abuse.

We do not have control over how the world interacts with them, but we do have control over (1) the conversations we have, (2) the skills we help them build, and (3) the crisis management systems put in place. So, let’s dive into those.

The conversations we have

It sounds like you’re already having open conversations with your daughters about dating, love, and sex. Props to you! It’s not always easy to address these topics with our kids and it can feel even more challenging if a parent never had comprehensive sex education growing up. This is where I’d encourage you and other parents to take a deep breath and focus first on how you’re having the conversation.

Your parent-child relationship is your child's first intimate relationship. Whether kids realize it or not, your interactions with them are shaping their relational scripts. Modeling is the most powerful parenting tool we have. When parents demonstrate respect, responsiveness, honesty, and curiosity toward their kids, their kids learn that this is how relationships should be. They’ll expect healthy patterns of relating because that’s what they’re used to. Meanwhile, when parents have a controlling, rigid, mistrusting, and/or shaming relationship with their kids, their kids learn that this is what normal relationships are supposed to look like. Therefore, they’re less likely to see relationship red flags for what they are.

Discussions with kids about dating should include topics like safe sex, media literacy, power dynamics, and signs of healthy/unhealthy relating. Find resources with information that’s inclusive, scientifically-accurate, and developmentally-appropriate. (Many dating apps themselves have created safety guides for online dating). Most importantly, take care to consider how you’re having the conversation. Consider these shifts in language for less shame, more curiosity, more honesty, and more connection:

"You can’t meet a stranger off the internet!”​
​Becomes...​
​“If you’re going to meet someone online for the first time, it’s always good to do so in a public place. Why don’t you suggest to meet at a cafe or a restaurant?”

“Don’t go back to someone’s apartment without texting me your location.”​
​Becomes...​
​“I want you to be safe and, at least for now, I’d like for someone to know where you are. It doesn’t have to be me, it can be your best friend. What do you think about this?”

“Just do it because I said so…”​
​Becomes...​
​“Did you have a different idea? I want to hear what’s on your mind.”

“Most people who let men forgo condom use get pregnant.”​
​Becomes...​
​“Should we visit the doctor together to have a conversation about contraceptive options? Or would you like me to book you an appointment for you to go alone?”

“You’ll get an STI if you have casual sex.”​
​Becomes...​
​“I’m not up to date on current sexual health statistics. Let’s find a trusted resource to get more information and so you feel prepared to date safely.”

“You’re being too nice. You have to be more assertive.”​
​Becomes...​
​“What does saying no feel like for you?”

The skills we help them build

As important as conversations about sex, love, and dating are, we can’t talk people into behavior shifts. I often use the analogy of dribbling a basketball. Reading all about dribbling, watching every professional basketball game, and talking to the sport’s best coaches will give you a lot of information on how to dribble well. But if you want to actually be able to skillfully dribble a basketball, you have to pick up a basketball and give it a try.

The science on skill-building is clear. Repetitive, sequenced, and scaffolded practice with reflection and feedback is how we get better at anything, including social-emotional skills. For parents who fear that their kids will struggle to name what they want, say no, or accept a no with grace, I recommend finding playful ways to give your kids practice in these skills and experiment with how saying no and hearing no feels in the body. Take turns asking for a hug or access to the other’s bedroom, with the expectation that you’ll be met with a no. Try a round where you are more direct or less direct. Experiment with guilting the other person after they say no. Try a round where you go right for the hug or right into the room without asking. I recommend you and your daughters take turns in each role so that the activity is reciprocal and gives you a chance to model what it's like to notice feelings in the body.

Both you and your child can consider these questions:

• What do you notice in your body?
• How does it feel to ask? To say no? To hear a no? To respond to the no?
• How is saying no to a friend or partner different from saying no to a parent/child?
• What factors might make it easier/harder to say no to someone in a given situation?

You can also give your child practice in refusal skills by double-checking when they say yes. When they say that it’s fine if you cancel your movie night with them that you’ve been looking forward to together, gently encourage them to pause and share more about how they’re feeling. Give space for them to hold seemingly contradictory emotions simultaneously. It’s okay for them to be upset about the last-minute change in plans, but happy that they’ll get to spend more time with their friends now that they’re moving into adulthood. All of their feelings deserve their space.

The systems we put in place

Lastly, create a preparedness plan with your daughters. Help them understand that perpetration happens because of cultures of entitlement and the actions of others, not because they were “asking for it,” “leading them on,” or “being a tease.” Victim blaming is prevalent and one of the most significant ways you can help your daughters is by giving them the confidence and support of knowing that others’ actions against them are not their fault, and that if she is ever made to feel uncomfortable, she can come to you for help and guidance.

Talk through scenarios. Speak with your daughters about what they might do if they’re on a date – or talking to someone online – and they’re sharing unsolicited photos, ignoring their no’s, being disrespectful, or acting with any sort of entitlement to them or their bodies. Blocking a dating app “match,” cutting a date short, saying no, and asking for help when you need it are all dating preparedness skills. Get curious about their instincts. You might offer a scenario and ask what she might do in that situation. Tell them what you like about their plan and how you might make a different choice (rather than how they should make different choices). Let them present a scenario to you. Tell them how you would handle it and ask them what they might do differently.

Remind your daughters that even if something doesn’t meet an app’s criteria for “inappropriate behavior” or the law’s criteria for sexual misconduct, it doesn’t mean that what happened was okay. Remind your daughters that you are here for them. While there are old stereotypes about the kinds of people who use dating apps, they’re widespread enough and varied enough that they can be genuinely wonderful tools to help people connect, find community, and find partnerships of all kinds. Take a deep breath and continue to give the care and support to them that you always have.

You got this.