I’m a straight(-ish) woman in a relationship with a bisexual man. (We’re both in our early 30s.) He told me, soon after we got intimate, that he’s had sex with men for most of his adult life, though he’s only ever dated women. We got more serious, and we’re now exclusive and a year into our relationship. He’s always said he’s willing to be a one-person guy but would like to open things up when I feel ready, because he does have a high sex drive and desires that go in a lot of different directions. I now feel ready for this, but I’m struggling a bit with the limitations that I want to put on the situation. I really only feel OK with him seeing other men for sex, not women, and I’m not comfortable with him being the receptive partner with other men. This is mainly because of higher risk of STIs, though he’s said he would go on PrEP, but I also am just not comfortable with the idea of him putting himself in a vulnerable position with another man. (He said he’s done both positions in the past.) Are these reasonable boundaries to have, or am I overstepping? The discussions are just beginning, and I haven’t told him how I feel yet.
—Rules of Engagement
Dear Rules of Engagement,
I’ve noticed in my limited research on polyamorous people that veto rules are rather unchic. That is, most people I’ve talked to and read about within that community aren’t OK with their primary partners dictating the terms of any of their other partnerships (including whom those partnerships are with). It’s a lovely philosophy, the idea that the bond of love needs no rules, as well as a potential working example of the cliché that goes, “If you love something, set it free; if it comes back, it’s yours.” But I am sure it’s not without its drama. Personally, I can’t imagine an open scenario that isn’t informed by my partner’s wishes. (Granted, I am not poly, just slutty.)
So, speaking on principle, I don’t see anything wrong with you setting stipulations that will help make your partner’s dalliances more palatable for you. Practically speaking is another matter. I think, in general, you have to understand that his brain off sex and on sex are two very different entities. You can tell him you’d prefer that he didn’t bottom, but don’t be surprised if he ends up doing so because his dick was hard, the other dick looked like it needed a friend, and one thing led to another and his butt inhaled it. It’s really hard to referee each play remotely, though I think a general expectation of sexual safety (however you define that: condoms, PrEP, no fluid bonding, etc.) is crucial. I think you’ll have more success in drawing partner-gender boundaries, since coordinating is generally done before sex brain really sets in. This isn’t to say you shouldn’t set boundaries and your boyfriend shouldn’t follow them—I just think that particular one may be difficult to enforce.
To your STI concerns, yes, receptive partners typically are at higher risk, but you don’t have to bottom to be receptive. (If he’s giving head, he’s receptive, and if he’s like the vast majority of the population, he’s not using condoms when he does that.) Some STIs are highly contagious regardless of the position; I feel sometimes like a stiff breeze is all I need to contract gonorrhea. HPV is like glitter. I don’t mean to freak you out. I only want to point out that in light of this sea of threatening microbes we’ve found ourselves floating in, these positioning concerns often amount to splitting hairs. As to whether bottoming makes someone more vulnerable, it really depends on how you do it and whether you have predilections for vulnerability in the first place. Putting your dick in the mouth of a stranger who could bite it off without a hell of a lot of effort and of whose history you know nothing? Pretty damn vulnerable.
As for the rest, it’s going to play out the way it’s going to play out. In my own experience with open arrangements, another very effective guideline I have noticed is: “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
