Go Ask Alex: Is my online dom/sub relationship healthy?

Hey Mr! I hope you are doing well (if those thick thighs are a reflection of how well you are doing, you are doing well indeed). You’re one of the only sensible voices in kink I know.

What do you think about online dom/sub relations? I’m currently getting into one. I’m married, but he isn’t into kink, so I have an agreed outlet online where there is a lot of fantasy but no touching.

I guess my question is, do you think that’s healthy? It gives me an outlet for my dominant tendencies. But at the same time, it makes me a bit uncomfortable to let this (my predilection for domination) out.

I know you are not Dear Abby, but if you could offer me some advice, I would be grateful. If you can’t, that’s cool.

Best!

Hi mister,

I am kinda like Dear Abby. Thanks for the “thick thighs” compliment—you’ve seen my Instagram. (If anyone reading this would rather submit a question there than via email, it’s @badalexcheves).

Reading your question, I'm not sure what advice you need. Advice on being dominant? Or doing it online? What’s the issue?

I think it's great to let your dominant side out. But your question is not clear: Are you uncomfortable letting your dominant side out on the internet because it’s the internet? Or does your discomfort lie in letting your dominant side out in any capacity?

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I sense it’s the latter. If so, is your hesitation rooted in ethics? Propriety? Social mores? Faith? These are real things you should ask yourself. You ask me specifically if I think it’s “healthy” to let your dominant side out, which could mean many things, but at its simplest, it suggests you believe doing so might be unhealthy in some way.

I’d say that if you have any inclination to be sexually dominant, it’s healthier to let that out with someone who willingly consents to it than to repress it or, worse, unleash it on someone who does not desire or consent to it, like your current partner.

Many gay men, when they talk about “unhealthy” sex, are talking about the in-person kind that involves the risk of sexually transmitted infections. But that risk is nonexistent in an online relationship. So, the “unhealthy” aspect of it you’re worried about must fall somewhere in moral or mental territory. “Unhealthy” here, then, means something akin to “wicked” or “wrong.”

To me, that’s scratching at a moral feeling, a belief. I have a rule about those: It is not my job to change anyone’s beliefs about sex.

Let me explain that. Beliefs—religious and otherwise—dictate human sexuality. Across the world, beliefs shape and define what we do and don’t allow ourselves to explore and experience. I think a sex writer should only offer encouragement (or, when necessary, discouragement) for things people already want to do, or have entertained the idea of doing, or are currently doing.

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The ethical line, then, is drawn at encouraging something a reader does not want to do—something they do desire or do not believe is right.

To me, that’s wrong. Regardless of what I think, suggesting a reader change their beliefs or do something they don’t honestly desire feels like a breach of the unspoken, unofficial contract between those who ask for help and those who provide it. I can give facts, tips, and advice, but I can’t make you believe something you don’t, because beliefs aren’t rooted in facts—they’re inner things, soul things. I once had little respect for those things, but that’s changed. You must do what you believe is right.

There is only so far a digital role-play, dom/sub thing can go. You can have video calls and tell him what to do. You can watch each other, wank to each other, talk to each other, perform on camera, and much else. You can connect deeply, confess, share things you’ve never shared with anyone else, and develop real, deep feelings. Findom (financial domination) setups are common online. You can consensually humiliate and degrade someone on Twitter by posting (mutually agreed-upon) photos of them from an anonymous account. I know subs who love that sort of thing.

You can also get scammed, conned, abused, hacked, have your pictures uploaded to some site you’re not aware of, and all sorts of sinister things. That’s the internet, babe.

So, if you choose to do it, remember common-sense safety measures regarding the internet and taking naked pictures that include your face (don’t take or send them), showing recognizable tattoos or places in your photos (don’t), and so on. If you’re chatting on a site, don’t create a username that’s your real name. Don’t send passwords. Be wary of suspicious links.

Ultimately, interacting with strangers online is always a risk. Image sharing online can be a matter of mutual vulnerability: you can screenshot anything he sends you, and vice versa, so it behooves you both to respect the other’s privacy. Even so, there are millions of bad actors online, and the potential that he is one is higher if you’ve never met him in person and never plan to.

Regardless of where your hesitation is coming from, you at least seem aware that sexual self-expression is necessary in a long-term relationship, and you seem comfortable with the idea of pursuing it within the parameters set by you and your partner. That’s a good start. I’d give it a shot.

I hope it feeds your dominant urge. If not, I hope you at least entertain my belief that purely online dom/sub interactions are a poor substitute for the real thing. If there’s any “danger” here, it’s that of liking it too much and wanting more. I don’t think that’s unhealthy at all, but it might pose a risk to your relationship.

You might, at some point, need to ask yourself if the no-touching rule works for you—and what that means if it doesn’t.

I don’t want to speed anyone’s journey along, but if you wish to fast-forward things a bit, consider discussing with your partner the possibility of opening up your relationship to include real, physical intimacy with others. You can agree on the terms of it—on when, where, and with whom it’s allowed. You might not think you want that now, but that is something you should prepare for.

Because getting bitched out as a quivering sub is better in real life, and being a brutal dom is too. I’ve done both. Trust me: You will want to take it offline and into the bedroom.

Hey there! I’m Alexander Cheves. I’m a sex writer and former sex worker—I worked in the business for over 12 years. You can read my sex-and-culture column Last Call in Out and my book My Love Is a Beast: Confessions, from Unbound Edition Press. But be warned: Kirkus Reviews says the book is "not for squeamish readers.”

In the past, I directed (ahem) adult videos and sold adult products. I have spoken about subjects like cruising, sexual health, and HIV at the International AIDS Conference, SXSW, the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, and elsewhere, and appeared on dozens of podcasts.

Here, I’m offering sex and relationship advice to Out’s readers. Send your question to askbeastly@gmail.com — it may get answered in a future post.