I Did Something Risqué to Pay for College. Maybe My Kids Don’t Need to Know.

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

Dear How to Do It,

I’m in my early 40s, married, and have a 12-year-old and a 14-year-old.

I put myself through college working as a stripper. Can you give some advice on how to explain to them what I used to do? Should I never let them get wind of it? Or is it something I need to sit them down and tell them on my own terms before they find out?

—Worried About the Past

Dear Worried About the Past,

Assuming that your spouse is the children’s other parent, this question should be worked through with them. From one angle, the question is, “How much do I tell my children about my history?” From other angles, though, we’re talking about how much children should know about sexuality, sexual labor, and—if I’m reading between the lines correctly—actions we might have some complex feelings about at the time or later in life. Those are all big parenting questions, and should therefore be decided together.

How likely your children are to find out is a big factor here. If you and your spouse are the only people in your town who know about your college job, there were never any photos or videos of you at work, and anyone in your extended family who is aware can be trusted not to let anything slip, you probably do have the option to keep your kids from knowing. If you were publicly visible (anything from being featured on advertising to feature dancing or labor rights organization, and the amount of interviews that usually come along with those, which are likely still lying around on the internet), then I’d lean pretty strongly toward sitting your kids down and sharing in a developmentally appropriate manner. You’ll also want to consider what your preferred course of action is if they ask indirect questions at some point: Do you maintain the illusion that you have no lived experience, or include the fact that some of your response is based on firsthand knowledge?

Another significant component is how much the work has affected your life and who you are now. If you clocked in and out, weren’t part of any associated communities, and the only reason it feels any more relevant than food service is the fact that sexual labor is often judged, it might never come up. But if you were friends with colleagues, or any part of that work shaped your current career or your development as a person, it might make sense to share (or at least actively omit it from your life story if you choose to never do so, which, to be clear, is within your rights).

You’ll want to work through your thoughts and feelings about your work as a stripper. This conversation—whether you have it at a time of your choosing or because it comes up spontaneously—is almost certain to be a back-and-forth. You need to be prepared for questions they might ask, and some of those questions are likely to be unexpected. That’s the nature of kids, and especially of teenagers. The more solid you are in your own perspective on those experiences, and in what constitutes appropriate information for those exact young humans in the family and community you live in together, the better you’ll be able to wing it in the face of a real curveball. The more you’ve dealt with any regret, frustration, guilt, or shame, the less those feelings will bubble up and make the discussion messy, confusing, or overwhelming for them.

At the end of the day—unless you’re at risk of being outed by an exuberantly non-helpful algorithm—whether you talk about your stripping days, what you share about them, and what age your children are when you do so are all questions that come down to what you feel comfortable with and what you and your co-parent think is best. Like all forms of coming out, deciding to keep quiet now leaves many future scenarios where you might make a different choice. And like all sticky subjects within parenting, what your child is asking about and what you feel they need to know will shift as they grow.

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Dear How to Do It,

My partner and I have been together for four years. We’re happy and engaged. My partner has a history of trauma and a lot of baggage around sex. She wants to explore sexual experiences with a cis guy—preferably without me. I don’t know what to do.

I understand where this is coming from, and I want to support her, but I didn’t sign up for nonmonogamy. It’s not something I feel comfortable with. We’re talking about trying something like a threesome, but I’m worried that I’ll still feel awful/inadequate/insecure, and she won’t feel like she’s had the experience she wanted. I’m also worried about the logistical barriers that I would present (it’s unlikely that I’d be a welcome addition for the theoretical man), and that this would also create resentment. How do people do this? How do I do this without crying or throwing up?

—Scared and Unfortunately, Not Aroused

Everything you’ve written signals a strong aversion to opening up the relationship. Forcing this through, whether you’re the one pushing yourself, your partner is pushing you, or the two of you are pushing together, is a recipe for disaster. A threesome that you don’t want to have is also more likely to combust than make anyone even remotely content, as you express worry about in your letter. Can your partner put the brakes on opening up indefinitely? If she can, great. Get your relationship to a stable place again, and then reevaluate both of your needs and boundaries and how you might be able to proceed.

I’m also worried that the plan on your partner’s end is to have sex with cis men she finds in usual dating or hookup contexts to work through some kind of sexual trauma. That’s a bad plan, in the sense that it carries a high risk of causing harm, and very little is possible in terms of mitigation or guardrails. Actual exposure therapy takes place under the supervision of a trained therapist, and, usually, in at least fairly controlled conditions. The absolute last thing that your relationship, or either of you, needs is to end up with her retraumatized or flooded while you’re puking from grief in the corner. Yes, some people do manage to duct tape some superficially understood trauma processing practices together on their own and get through the experience unscathed—they are lucky. Luck is inherently something that cannot be counted upon. If my concern is off base, you’re looking at a relationship where your partner is currently prioritizing a desire for new sexual experiences over your obvious consternation and turmoil.

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Dear How to Do It,

My husband and I used to cycle a lot when we were in our 20s and 30s. Now that we are north of 40, he’s been having increasing issues with erectile dysfunction. We’ve had mixed results with medications. Is there a better solution?

Because your husband’s erectile dysfunction is new, it is prudent to rule out any systemic health issues first. Then, both of you can consider whether there are obvious emotional or psychological factors at play, and start trying things in the overlap between what makes the most sense and what is easiest to access. What seems most logical is going to be based on the details of what your husband’s erectile dysfunction looks like (is there any sort of pattern to when he struggles with erections, and what is the nature of the increase in issues?) and the context of his life. What is easiest to access will depend on your budget, what sorts of professionals are available in your area, and how flexible the two of you are about the definition of good sex.

If your husband hasn’t seen a urologist in person for a full evaluation, that’s step one. Lots of folks get a prescription for medication that works well enough from various online services, but that’s not always the case. There is a slight chance that cycling could be part of the issue, more so if he’s still cycling now, as it can lead to some temporary numbness. Some studies haven’t found a link between high amounts of cycling and ED. If there’s a larger physical ailment at play, treating that often alleviates erectile dysfunction. If there are no systemic issues, you can feel secure in the knowledge that you’ve ruled out significant medical concerns as you consider other possibilities.

Think through your husband’s life and your relationship, from somewhat before the issues started until now, and look for any correlations. This might involve changes at work, in the ways the two of you relate to each other, in the care needed by children or parents, or in his mental health. If there are, support your husband in addressing those issues. If there’s something between the two of you, work together to resolve it. Men sometimes get tripped up by even a single instance of being softer than they want to be, and that can catalyze a performance anxiety feedback loop. They’re worried about being soft, so they can’t get fully hard, so they’re stressing about that, which is making them softer. The next time they go to have sex, they’re worried about what happened last time, the whole process repeats, and it amps up their anxiety going into the next sexual interaction. If that seems to be the case, you might try taking the focus off of his erection entirely and engage in intimacy that doesn’t require him to be hard—sometimes knowing that an erection isn’t required is enough to abate the stress that is preventing one from happening—or seek out someone trained in Cognitive behavioral sex therapy.

Penis pumps, which use a vacuum to increase blood flow, are absolutely worth trying as long as they’re deemed medically safe for your husband. His urologist may be able to recommend some particular models; otherwise, a sex boutique like Come as You Are or Babeland can offer recreational devices. If there’s a boutique near you, the staff may be able to guide you through their products. Use the same critical thinking skills you’d use in any shop to discern whether their main goal is matching you with the most appropriate device, or making the most profitable sale.

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