Go Ask Alex: I'm pansexual and autistic. How do I date and have great sex?

Hi, I am William, and I wanted to email you for advice and help on being a pansexual male. I am 28 years old, and I read your website from time to time, and I have had good and bad experiences with guys, and the fact that I have autism. If you have any tips or advice for me, that would be helpful and useful. If so, thank you so much.

Hi William,

I'm also neurodivergent. I get it. We live in a world filled with people who, in some respects, communicate better than we do. I use my writing to work around that — my clearest, easiest self-expression happens on the page — but others like us have their own ways of expressing themselves that work best for them.

Find an outlet that allows you to shape your thoughts outside of your head — writing, art, making playlists, whatever. It’ll help.

As for dating: Yeah, you might have a harder time being both pansexual and neurodivergent. Then again, you might not. I am both pansexual and neurodivergent, and I do pretty well. My point is that anything can be a hurdle or an inhibition, but nothing has to be: You are not set up for failure or struggle in the arena of intimacy because of who or how you are. You might just not yet have figured out how to use these aspects of your mind in your favor.

I now see my funny brain as a blessing. I don’t read non-direct forms of communication very well, so I have no taste for sarcasm or passive aggression. People with these traits are quickly weeded out: I don’t need or want to go home with them, and they tend to find me too direct and boring. Our mismatch benefits both of us.

Being direct — needing and fostering clear, straightforward communication — makes me good at kink and more adventurous sex that requires precise, overt, explicitly-stated desires and consent. In bed, I like asking, “Does that feel good?” and, to be frank, I have to ask — I can’t read nonverbal pleasure well. I believe this makes me a good, attentive lover.

Yes, there are drawbacks. I can be too logical in an arena rife with murky emotions that aren’t always clear and precise. That’s hard.

At a young age, I found it easy to separate and compartmentalize sex and love, so I gained sexual competence quickly. I became a great sex worker. (Most successful sex workers are neurodivergent.) As a result, my sex and love skills are not at the same level. Feelings are harder. My logical, compartmentalizing brain was not prepared for the grown-up battle of bringing sex and love together — of navigating things that can live separately but don’t have to — and when they collide, I often find myself without the correct words.

(Even the way I’m phrasing that is so autistic. There are no “correct” words — there’s just words, and I have to try and use them as best as I can. That’s relationships!)

William, I’m sorry to say there are no tricks, no shortcuts. But that’s true for everyone, autistic and otherwise. In sex and dating, there is no better teacher than just doing it — sometimes you just have to dive.

You will break your own heart and the hearts of others, and that’s what you must do to learn how heartbreak feels and, worse, how it feels to hurt someone else. Everyone needs a few good, rough breakups. (The first one will be the worst. The second and third ones will be terrible, but not so bad. Your fourth breakup might finally be gentle.) At this point in my life, I’m wary of anyone who hasn’t had a horrible, drawn-out, messy breakup. That’s a vital growth experience that everyone needs. How else do you learn how to do it better next time?

The only thing better than a little experience in sex and dating is a lot of it. Have sex with lots of people. Date lots of people. Here’s a sentence I think only highly logical people will appreciate: More data points lead to a more competent education. Every person you go home with is a data point, and from each one, you learn. That’s how it is for everyone, though romantic, highly emotional people might not like to see it in such stark terms. But that’s how it is.

Sluts are the best lovers because they’re practiced. People who’ve had a few breakups know how to do it without so much yelling or slamming doors. People who’ve had partners who listen well know, from that point on, how good it feels to be heard. You can’t know how your autism benefits your love life until you love, and you can’t know how it helps you sexually until you fuck. Or get fucked. Or both. So do all of it — lots of it.

Honestly, pansexuality is the bigger challenge, but it’s mostly a challenge of language. At a bar or in a club toilet, it’s hard to communicate to someone you like what “pansexual” means, and there’s no need to do so unless they ask. But if they ask — and some people will — you should come up with a short sentence explaining what “pansexual” means to you in the simplest terms.

Some pansexuals say the classic line, “I care about what’s between the ears, not what’s between the legs.” I don’t use that line because I do care about what’s between the legs, at least a little bit. In general, I say: “If there’s a connection, I’ll have sex with anyone.” This works for me. And it’s the truth.

Having that little sentence ready overcomes the biggest hurdle of being pansexual — explaining it. Most people in the modern world know what “straight,” “gay,” “lesbian,” and “bisexual” mean. The niche sexualities like “pansexual” (or, my god, “sexually fluid,” “asexual,” and the combinations, like “asexual homoromantic”) need an explainer, and having to explain one’s sexuality often feels very unsexy.

Making it more challenging for us is the fact that pansexuals usually seek different things with different genders. (For example: with women, I’m only submissive, but with men I am dominant too.) Keep a few quick, easy explanations for this stuff so that, when it comes up, you can say what you like without turning it into a long conversation. Casual sex hookups will not ask, but potential romantic partners (dates) will, so these little explanations do matter.

Be prepared for rejection — everyone faces it at some point. The universality of rejection makes it no less painful, but over time, it does sting less.You’re not meant to be liked and wanted by everyone. Nobody is.

Rejection is a universal human experience and is an inevitable part of the sex and love journey. Along with rejection, connection and love are also human experiences, and they happen more often than you might think. You just have to go looking for them.

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.