Q:

I could use some advice from other queer woman on how to balance what I want sexually with what I want romantically.

I’m a lesbian in my thirties and single (and very unhappily so). I want to get married, settle down, etc, and feel like my chances are dwindling the older I get.

Of course there are other women looking for the same thing, but the problem is I’m also kinky af. And no matter how long I scour dating sites, I can’t seem to find anyone sexually dominant who is also monogamous. And I have spent hours upon hours reading profiles, talking to people only to be disappointed.

I’ve tried to make vanilla relationships work, and for me they just don’t. I don’t feel comfortable pretending to enjoy regular vanilla sex when I find it completely unsatisfiying.

I’ve tried going to kink events, but it always turns out that if there are any queer women there at all, they are poly, and I’m just not. In fact the thought of myself being with someone non exclusively makes me feel awful.

Maybe I’m just too narrow in my tastes to find someone, but I can’t force myself to change what I’m interested in anymore than I can stop myself from liking girls. Nor am I happy without someone to share my life with.

Do I just have to accept it’s going to be unfulfilling relationships or loneliness?

A:

Short answer: No, you do not have to accept that you’re either going to be in an unfulfilling relationship or lonely for the rest of your life. But you may have to do some personal and internal work to figure out what you need to be fulfilled and happy. Let’s dive into the longer answer together.

To begin, I will say you are not the only queer woman on the planet to desire all of the things you mentioned. I know of at least three healthy partnerships off the top of my head where the couple is both kinky and monogamous, and that’s just in my friendship circle! I completely hear you that you’ve been putting a lot of effort into finding your perfect match and you’re not having much luck, and I empathize with that. But I also feel strongly that there are certain community stereotypes (like the mythical “top shortage”) that simply aren’t real, and it doesn’t behoove anyone to act as though they are. So, let’s hold both those truths in our hands: you are having a hard time finding a date that you can eventually settle down with into a monogamous and kinky marriage, and also, there are monogamous kinky dominant queer women in the world who would like to one day be married.

This is where the internal work must start. I hear you saying that you are unhappily single, and I hear you saying that the older you get, the more you feel your chances of settling down and sharing your life with someone are dwindling. It’s possible the pandemic has made things feel more dire and challenging. That’s a terrible feeling; I’m sorry. I cannot offer any advice that will magically make a partner appear at your front door, and even if I could, I cannot guarantee that you and this mystery person would be able to successfully build a life together. Something I have found, as I’ve gotten older, is I’ve had to radically shift what building a life means. My parents met when they were 22 and 24, respectively, they got married a few years later, they were together for 35 years before my dad died this year, and they remained in love the whole time. Holy wow. My parents are one of the most beautiful love stories I will ever know, and also, I realized a long time ago that their life would never be my life. When I came to that realization, I tried to isolate what about their marriage was so beautiful to me: being best friends, always having companionship, having kids and raising a close family together, letting each other be very independent while still loving each other. Then I took those things, pressed them against my own brain and heart, and got to work thinking about how I could tangibly create those beautiful connections for myself without relying on a partner I met when I was 22, because for me, that person simply does not exist. And I think I have done a pretty good job building a life for myself. I am generally pretty happy.

I need you to close your eyes and envision what it is about settling down with someone that would bring you joy. I need you to think deeply about all the ways you like to have sex. I need you to examine what you want — is it kids, is it companionship, is it someone to hold hands with at the end of the day, is it a person to rely on if you get sick, is it love, is it being bent over the sofa as soon as you enter the house and told not to move an inch while your babe absolutely rails you — and then I do need you to take a deep breath and try to accept that you can possibly have all these things, but they may not take the form of arriving in one single human wrapped up in a bow.

You don’t have to be non-monogamous. You don’t have to have sex with more than one person. But if you want my honest to god advice, you do need to let go of the idea that your romantic partner will be able to meet all your needs. It’s not because there isn’t a hot monogamous kinky domme out there dying to move in with you. That person may exist! But even she does, she may not want to build a life in the exact way you do. She may not want kids and you do. She may want kids and you don’t. She may process her feelings completely differently than you. She may be kind and quiet when you like a lot of noise. She may be devoted but busy. Her love language may be gift giving when you’d really prefer words of affirmation. I could go on and on. But the point is, being sexually unsatisfied and/or lonely are not entirely tied to the existence of one human. That’s setting yourself and this mythical babe up for failure.

I want to really hone in on this last point. When we enter our thirties, some people are really looking to settle down and commit. That’s… fine, I guess, if it’s what both people want, but I also think we all deserve a little more. It is one thing to be looking for the same thing — monogamy, hot sex, a desire to build a life with another human — but from my perspective, it’s unfair and kind of limiting to view everyone you so much as talk to online as “potentially my future life partner.” I hate to repeat the same perspective I’m always spouting, but my friends are my life partners. The people I’ve invested 10+ years getting to know and love are my life partners. I don’t have multiple life partners because I’m non-monogamous, I have multiple life partners because I have multiple really dear friends who I’m going to grow old with. Being queer means we don’t have to play out the narrative the heterosexist patriarchy has set up for us. We do not need to get married and grow old with our one romantic love. We can have one romantic love — I am not here to shit on monogamy and I believe you if you say you really only want one romantic partner! — but we don’t have to center them as the key to not being lonely. And, while this might be obvious, I would be remiss not to say it: sometimes when you’re trying hard to make sure someone checks all your boxes, you actually end up boxing them in to something that may not be true. I’ve dated a few people who told me they didn’t identify as kinky, and then when we had sex I was like… uh, sorry, what’s your definition of kinky, because you… um… are the greatest kinky top in the world?!?! I’ve also gone on dates with people who’ve sworn to be experienced kinky tops and wow, they sure weren’t! Some folks feel as though polyamory is part of their identity while others are happy to date monogamously or non-monogamously, it just depends on the situation. And of course, some people do really want to settle down but will never want to settle down with you, and some may claim they never want to get married and two years later they’re buying a house and co-owning a dog with their partner. Humans are complex. It’s good to know what you want, but it’s also good to leave room for people to be organically themselves in the context of your connections.

The more I write to you (forgive me for this essay-length response!) the more I think the key to your question actually lies in the very second sentence. I’m a lesbian in my thirties and single (and very unhappily so). I think it’s possible you will meet a partner who checks all your boxes. It’s also possible you never will. But obtaining a partner is not going to be the balm that removes your unhappiness, even if it seems that your unhappiness is entirely rooted in being single. You need to find ways to happiness whether you remain single or whether you find your ultimate kinky monogamous life partner. You can create fulfilling relationships that will stave off loneliness whether this dreamboat enters you life or not. That is your work, and the good news is, you can do it alone.

Good luck; I am rooting for you.

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