How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Jessica and Rich here. It’s anonymous!

Dear How to Do It,

My girlfriend “Ally” and I are both recovering alcoholics. We met on the bar scene, and much of our relationship has revolved around booze. Our sex life used to be pretty exciting; we would hit the bars and then go home for some wild sex. Sometimes we would even do it in the car. What finally caused us to pursue sobriety was an incident that happened when we were pulling out of the parking lot of a bar that was located in a shopping center. A kid walked in front of our car, and I barely managed to hit the brakes in time.

It’s been five months since then. Ally and I both attended and completed AA and did our best to make amends with people we wronged while under the influence. But our sex life has flatlined, and without alcohol, we almost don’t know how to be around each other. The truth is, those two people we used to be are gone, and neither Ally nor I knows how to connect; booze was the glue keeping us together. Can we salvage our relationship?

—Sobered Up and Now Strangers

Dear Sobered Up and Now Strangers,

You spell it out quite clearly: Booze was the glue keeping you together. No booze, no glue. What is keeping you together at this point? If it’s something like shared experience or obligation, I’m not sure that’s going to be enough to sustain the relationship. If you both have genuine love for each other, well, that makes things more complicated. I think you have to make a clear-headed assessment of the relationship, irrespective of sex, to determine whether it’s worth sticking with in the first place. Ask yourself: Without alcohol, what is there in this relationship?

A lot of sober people cut ties with the friends they once used with (and the places that they used) to help stay away from substance. Surely you have heard and perhaps even considered this. That’s not going to be necessary for everyone, so perhaps it doesn’t apply to you. But I think the most important thing here is your individual sobriety, so if the relationship isn’t serving that, it’s definitely time to reconsider.

In terms of alcohol fueling the sex, I talked to a researcher about this for this column a few years ago. Amanda K. Gilmore told me about studies she performed regarding alcohol use and sex in women. One study found that drunkenness was associated with lower desire to engage in sex, though if participants believed that alcohol lowered sexual inhibitions, they reported more desire for sex. Gilmore mentioned another study (not performed by her) that suggested men tend to misinterpret friendly social cues as being sexual when drinking, perhaps resulting in a more aggressive approach than the situation calls for. The greater point is that maybe alcohol isn’t quite the lubrication that it’s often made out to be, and a lot of our beliefs about alcohol facilitating sex may have more to do with psychology than chemistry. So yes, I think it is possible to relearn enjoying sex after alcohol, even when you seemingly relied on the stuff for your sex life. It isn’t easy, though, and again, you should really assess whether Ally is the right partner for you first. Couples counseling, particularly with someone who specializes in addiction, may be useful.

Dear How to Do It,

I’m a man in my early 40s, married to a woman who has undergone a physical health crisis last few months that required me to become her full-time caretaker—everything from doctors appointments, giving her medications, helping her to leave from work, physically moving her around the house, feeding her, the whole thing. It required a fairly extreme level of sensitivity to her physical state, where too much physical contact or activity could spark a lot of pain.

Thankfully, she’s moving past her health issue and on the mend, and we are slowly starting to resume our sex life. I have read in places that oftentimes caretakers can have a hard time getting back into a sexual mode, but I do not have that problem! I’m definitely excited and turned on at the prospect. But here’s my problem. Before she got sick, we had started to dip our toes into some kink: more aggressive dirty talk, light slapping/spanking, some light bondage… I even bought some restraints for the bed, which are sitting in the box unused. And unlike the prospect of sex generally, I’m having a hard time getting into the mental space of wanting to explore that with her, because I spent so long dealing with her physically delicate condition. When she is ready for that sort of play again, and she’s made indications that she will be, any suggestions for getting myself in that headspace?

—Reticent

Dear Reticent,

Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Take things as they come. If you aren’t ready to dip back into kink, don’t do it. Tell your wife that you’d prefer to start out with more vanilla vibes. You should both be comfortable. I think in time, once you reestablish your sexual dynamic, you may feel more open to the kink you started to toy with. But if you can’t get there immediately, it’s OK. It’s all a process.

Your wife has been through a lot in this crisis, but so have you. Culturally, we still don’t pay enough respect to trauma and how much it can shift things for people. Often, the toll it takes on men goes utterly ignored. You’re no less a man if, after the grueling experience of being a full-time caretaker to your ailing wife, you are still feeling the effects of the ordeal and unable to jump right back in where you left off. As you point out, sometimes people in your position have a hard time reengaging sexually, and that’s not the issue right now. So do what you can.

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Dear How to Do It,

I’m a 30-year-old woman on the asexual spectrum (and probably somewhere on the aromantic spectrum as well). I’ve had a few relationships (men and women) but haven’t dated anyone in years, and I’m mostly happy single. But, I think I probably want a long-term partnership with someone (or at the very least want the option of shorter-term relationships).

The problem is this: I don’t plan to ever have sex, and it is incredibly hard to find other people who are looking for the same thing. The numbers are against me because we just make up a small percentage of the population, and they’re against me more because many people have never heard of asexuality, including other ace people.

I’ve tried dating apps, but I either end up with literally hundreds of men 20 years older than me trying their luck, or 12 asexual women who live somewhere in the same time zone as me. I have some ace friends, but we are not at all romantically attracted to each other. Any suggestions? I have not-so-jokingly considered a matchmaker, but that’s a lot of money for something that might not work either.

—How Not to Do It

Dear How Not to Do It,

Unless a matchmaker is specifically advertising ace expertise, I wouldn’t go that route. As you suggest, asexuality is misunderstood by the general public when it even deigns to acknowledge it at all. I wouldn’t assume a matchmaker picked at random would get it and have the wherewithal to hook you up accordingly.

If I were you, I would keep trying to find ace partners, because they will be way more likely to be looking for what you’re looking for. There are apps specifically catered to aces like AceSpace, as well as Facebook groups like Asexual Singles for Support, Friends, and Dating, and subreddits like r/asexualdating. In theory, tapping into spaces like these could widen your pool and perhaps put you in contact with people that you do want to spend time with. It’s good that you have a community base with your asexual friends, but I think getting in contact with even more people will be useful. Even if you don’t end up with them romantically, you may benefit from hearing their stories and ways that they have navigated dating. The asexual community, as Angela Chen notes in Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex, was “instrumental” in reversing the erasure of asexual people that even a researcher as pioneering and engaged in human sexuality as Alfred Kinsey perpetuated. Chen explains that in congregating online, asexuals:

…Started talking about their lives, what they wanted that others didn’t and what others wanted that they didn’t, marking territory for experiences that didn’t always match Kinsey’s numbers. Asexuality is not an “internet orientation,” and the internet did not lead to the invention of asexual people. People had identified as asexual for decades before and in the 1970s bonded over asexuality in self-published work and zines. The people already existed; the internet helped facilitate these discussions at a scale and volume that had not been possible before.

It’s well worth getting more involved and making more contacts. You never know where it might lead.

—Rich

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