Dear Daddy,

Someone who was truly horrible to me is now on their deathbed. I feel bad that they’re dying—of course I do—but it seems like everyone around me expects me to just sweep their treatment of me under the rug because “they won’t be around much longer.” I’ve been trying to forgive and forget, but honestly, it’s really hard. I’m not sure if I’m a bad person for struggling with this. Am I supposed to be kind to them now just because they’re dying, even if they never made things right?

—Struggling With Grace

Dear Struggling:

No, you are not a bad person. And no, you don’t have to forgive and forget.

Let me tell you a little story…

I’m currently writing this from a bed in a hotel room. Tomorrow I’m attending a wedding with my partner, in which I will meet several members of her family—including an uncle who has said some unkind and downright cruel things to her.

My partner’s mom has asked her, many times, to bury the hatchet with her uncle. If my partner will just apologize to him, everything will be all right.

The idea here is, it’s on my partner to make things right. And let me tell you—it is absolutely the fuck not. It’s on her mom to say to her brother: you are being a dick and also how dare you speak to my child like that? It’s on the uncle to not be a miserable piece of shit.

The truth is, she will never make things right. Because the uncle’s real issue is the fact that my partner is a 1. queer 2. liberal 3. woman who 4. speaks her mind. And yes, as if it even needed to be said, the uncle is a member of the MAGA cult.

My partner will not apologize for who she is, nor should she have to.

This stuff can be weird. Some people think the word “family” transcends trauma, as if shared DNA excuses bad behavior. The idea that we owe things to people who are cruel to us is absurd, related or no, deathbed or no.

I’ve watched my dad become more thoughtful and more caring as he’s grown older. Does he always get it right? No, he does not. Sometimes he says dumb and insensitive shit. But when I call him on it, he listens, and he tries to do better. It’s easy for me to offer him some grace.

Grace isn’t a given. It’s a gift you grant someone.

If someone’s not trying, it gets harder to extend them grace. And sometimes a point arrives that, if a person is so firmly adamant in not trying, then whatever grace you could have offered them is better given to someone else.

Some people, you have to give up on, because there’s a limit on how much of yourself and your mental health you can sacrifice.

I don’t know the dynamics at play here. Maybe this person was horrible to just you. Maybe all those people telling you to reconcile didn’t witness the abuse, and therefore it’s harder for them to grasp (though, shame on them for not hearing you now).

Maybe this person was horrible to everyone, but because everyone else is grieving, they believe death grants a certain degree of amnesty.

Neither scenario here is a good one, and neither requires you to do a damn thing.

So here’s where I’ll leave it:

You have my condolences. Not for this person who has been so horrible to you. My condolences are for you: this is a difficult thing for you to navigate. You deserve love and support that you’re not getting, and I’m sorry that you aren’t. But your feelings matter, and your trauma matters—whatever grace you could have given to this person, I’d like you to save for yourself.

You deserve it.

Have a life or work or sex or dating question that’s causing you some consternation? Email advice columnist Daddy at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com. You can also follow him on Bluesky at deardaddyos.bsky.social.

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Dear Daddy,

When I lost my job during COVID, I decided to give OnlyFans a try. I posted some pictures, and I made a little money, but it was hard to keep up with, and after I got another job, I stopped posting. After a little while I deleted the account. Sometimes I think it would be fun to try again, even just as a way to express my sexuality, but the problem is my new boyfriend “John.”

John doesn’t know about the OnlyFans, and I’m not sure he would approve of it. He can be a little jealous. I understand it because he said he was cheated on a few times, but sometimes I feel like he doesn’t trust me even though I haven’t done anything wrong.

For example, there is a good friend of mine, “Paul,” who I slept with a couple of times years ago. We ultimately realized it wasn’t going to work out but we wanted to stay friends. John met Paul, and I told John afterward that we had slept together, and he exploded. He said it was inappropriate to still be friends with Paul, and that I had insulted him by introducing them without telling him the truth.

I don’t think John will react well if I tell him I tried OnlyFans, and I really don’t think he will be happy about me wanting to reactivate the account. But I feel dishonest now not telling him these things, especially with how he reacted to Paul. Do you have any advice on the best way to handle this?

—Former Only Fans Girl

Dear FOFG,

Yes, my advice is to dump John.

There are a couple of red flags here, and I think you see them, but sometimes it helps to watch someone else plant them in the ground...

The fact that you’re afraid to have the conversation with John says you don’t feel safe around him. That right there is a big one. He’s not creating an environment of safety and trust.

And your use of the word “exploded” really gives me pause. That’s not the kind of situation where an explosion is warranted. Frankly, it’s hard for me to think of any situation where an explosion is warranted.

When you enter into an adult relationship, you are acknowledging the fact that the person you are dating has had sexual partners and sexual experiences that predate your connection. And some dudes are real fucking babies about that kind of thing.

It’s not inappropriate to maintain a friendship with someone you previously had sex with. If anything, I consider that a green flag. You connected intimately, you had an adult conversation, you left it on good terms, you were able to remain friends. Those are all very nice things!

I’ll concede one thing to John (though I still think he’s being a baby): It is nice to know, going into an interaction, that the person I’m spending time with was previously intimate with my current partner.

It’s not a huge deal. The thing about dating someone is: you have entrée to their present, and maybe their future, but you have no right to their past. What they choose to share with you, what they choose to do with you—that’s your call, and your comfort level. So if you chose not to tell him about Paul, ultimately that’s fine.

I’ve been in situations where I’ve been dating people, and later found out a person we hung out with was a former sexual partner. Ten time out of ten it just puts the pieces together for me—I tend to be pretty intuitive, and you can’t not have some kind of vibe with someone you once fucked.

It’s not upsetting for me to find out later, I’m just a fan of context.

John, meanwhile, seems to be leaning into a toxically masculine space. You insulted him? Give me a break.

I’m never felt insulted in those situations, and had my partners never told me, and I’d been left to wonder, well, that’s fine too. Because it’s not my business.

As for the OnlyFans: if he doesn’t approve, well…he doesn’t have to. It’s your time, it’s your body, it’s your comfort level. His approval is not required. He doesn’t have to like it, but that’s a him problem, not a you problem. If he doesn’t want to date someone who has an OnlyFans account, then he can go date someone who doesn’t have an OnlyFans account.

But also, John needs to get his shit together. Maybe his reaction wasn’t as strong as you made it sound, maybe he’s worth another shot, but right now, he’s behind the 8-ball. Whatever chance he gets, he’s going to need to earn.

You didn’t cheat on him. Someone else did. It’s not your job to carry that trauma for him.

My final bit of advice is: If “exploded” really is an accurate descriptor of his behavior, have whatever conversation you’re going to have with him in a public place, or with a friend in the next room.

Have a life or work or sex or dating question that’s causing you some consternation? Email advice columnist Daddy at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com. You can also follow him on Bluesky at deardaddyos.bsky.social.

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Dear Daddy,

Do I need an MFA? I’m starting to think my first novel is too much of a mess to get published. I’ve sent it to agents and either heard nothing, or got form rejections. Some friends read it and thought it was good but I wonder if they just said that because they’re my friends. Someone said I should get an MFA, because that’s the easiest way to get published, but I’m not sure. It’s pretty expensive. What do you think?

Signed, B.

Hey there, B. Let’s look at the pros and cons here.

Joining an MFA program offers you the chance to spend a couple of years really focused on reading, and on the craft of writing. This is not a bad thing. It’s hard for the MFA-less to find the time we need to do those things, because we have to do it in a vacuum; having a professor standing over your shoulder means you’re more likely to get the work done. And there are some great networking opportunities.

The downside is that it can be expensive (sure, there are scholarships, and there are free or fully-funded MFA programs, but those are competitive). The reality is you’re more than likely going to have to shell out a bunch of money, and while it’s certainly a great way to network and learn, it’s not a guarantee that you’re going to get published.

That’s my diplomatic answer.

My non-diplomatic answer is: Fuck MFA programs.

Okay, maybe that’s a touch too harsh. But they’re a little highfalutin for my taste. They’re cliquey, they have a reputation for looking down on genre writers (plot?! how dare you!!!), and the economy isn’t getting any better.

It’s easy enough for me to say that, as a writer who has achieved a reasonable degree of success (I do this full-time), and didn’t get an MFA. Granted, I broke my ass in half for the past 15 years to get where I am. Would success have come sooner if I’d entered a program? Maybe. Immaterial at this point.

The point is: It can help but you don’t need it, and I think there’s a somewhat dangerous assumption floating around that the answer to a stalled dream is more education, which, it can be, but it’s also a clear pathway to living under the dangling sword of student loans.

Here’s the thing about first books: It might not be the book that gets you there. My first novel is a piece of trash. I needed to get it out of my system. Most writers do. I know writers who didn’t hit until their third, fourth, or even seventh book.

The unifying factor amongst successful writers tends to be stubbornness, not MFAs.

I’m taking a really dim view here, and I get that. If you ultimately decide an MFA is the best path for you, then by all means, go for it. I know plenty of writers who did get MFAs and it worked out for them just fine.

It’s certainly going to make things easier if you want to teach, because in many instances, in order to teach in an MFA program, you need an MFA yourself (funny, the way pipelines work…).

But the simple factor of taking one isn’t going to change your stars. I know plenty of writers who came out of MFA programs and they’re sitting in the same place you are.

So I’m going to give you a piece of advice that you’re not going to want to hear, but you should:

Give yourself a break on this one. Take what you learned on it and start something new. You can always return to the first book with a fresh set of eyes, in a month or two or three. I’ll tell you this: If you’re willing to write a second book, knowing the first one may go nowhere, then you can make it as a writer. If the thought of doing it again feels like too much, you may not be cut out for this.

But the fact that you reached out, and you’re considering your options, is a good sign. You’ve got fight in you yet.

Have a life or work or sex or dating question that’s causing you some consternation? Email advice columnist Daddy at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com. You can also follow him on Bluesky at deardaddyos.bsky.social.

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Want to learn more about publishing, and a host of other subjects? Tickets are available for Open Secrets Live on May 3 in New York City. Details available here and tickets are available at Eventbrite.

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Dear Daddy,

My spouse (we’ve been together about 13 years) and I are working on opening up our marriage into an ethical non-monogamy/polyamory arrangement where we are still each other’s primary partner, but we date separately. My spouse is a cis man and I’m a nonbinary person that usually presents as femme. We are both bisexual.

About three years ago, I was more fully exploring my bisexuality and talking to people online, including a man from another country, which included sexting. I had thought that this was okay with my spouse, since I had told him about doing more sexy things online, but unfortunately I had misunderstood; he had a very bad reaction, as if I’d been cheating.

I explained to the online guy that I could no longer talk to him, and he understood. It took a long, lonely time to get through that emotional breakup without anyone to talk to about it, while my spouse eventually forgave me.

But in the meantime, I was so low that my depression and anxiety made me paranoid and imagine every nightmare scenario about husbands killing or hurting their cheating wives; I cried for days, was suicidal, and even now it is difficult to think about. My spouse has never ever threatened me or turned violent; it was more like he was disappointed and angry and hurt so I made things worse on myself because I felt so guilty. Thankfully I am in counseling again although it’s been off and on.

Fast forward to now. Over the summer my spouse, who also struggles with mental health conditions, had a big change to his medication regimen (under the supervision of his psychiatrist and counselor) that has also affected his personality. Overall he is doing better but it is also like I’m just getting to know him all over again, especially since one of the medications he stopped influenced impulse control.

We had a conversation around Thanksgiving where he said that he had accepted that he was poly after all and that kicked things off again. I was very surprised due to our history with it, and he was anticipating that it might be a dealbreaker for me given the experience from three years ago. However, I am interested in continuing to do the communication work and try this. I read The Ethical Slut and talked to another poly friend for support and that has been really helpful as a start, although I know the process is ongoing.

What I wonder now is if there could be any benefit to reconnecting with the man I talked to three years ago or not. I did enjoy talking to him, but wanted to respect my spouse’s wishes at the time.

Now that things are different, I double-checked directly with my spouse and he claims that this time if I wanted to reconnect with this person, he would be okay with it. But I’m not sure if I should take him at face value or if it’s better to just completely start with new potential partners.

My spouse has already had more luck in finding new potential partners than I have and had also floated the idea of trying to reconnect with an ex, which I okayed but then nothing came of it. So I also wonder if I am only wanting to try reconnecting with this person because my new attempts haven’t had much happen yet. I don’t know if he’d be interested in talking again or not, because a lot could have happened for him in three years as well. And I also wonder if the stress of how it ended the first time means things are already tainted and ruined there so it would be hard to try again.

It’s also just been more difficult in general to find non cis men to talk to, so I also wonder if I’m taking the easy way out by not putting in more of the effort to take the time to find more people since I do genuinely want to date more than just cis men.

Thanks,

Open in Ohio

Hello, Open.

This is a very long letter, and while I did edit and condense it a bit (while doing my best to retain the spirit), I wanted to make sure to leave some meat on the bone, because there’s a lot to unpack here.

I’m going to start with this: the poly/ENM lifestyle is hard. Harder than you think it’s going to be. And I wonder if you two are suited for it.

Actually, let’s back this up for a second. Let me tell you a story. I was once with a woman who told me that if we were going to be in a committed relationship, I needed to accept that she identified as poly. Let’s call her Josephine.

It took me some time to get on board with that. We read books like The Ethical Slut. We talked about it, a lot. We started couples therapy to prepare ourselves.

Then the time came. We opened up. I slept with a woman while on a business trip. Navigating that was mostly smooth. Soon after, I connected with a woman on a social media app. We went on a date. We kissed. We made plans to see each other again. Let’s call her Lucinda.

Josephine decided that things were moving too fast, and she needed to pull back on the poly thing for a little while. I was disappointed. I had a conversation with Lucinda, explaining the situation (she had been aware I was partnered, going into the date). She understood, and from the way she tells it, never expected to hear from me again.

Months later, Josephine and I re-opened our relationship. I had felt a connection with Lucinda, and thought Josephine would connect with her too. With Josephine’s blessing, I reached out.

Lucinda and I reconnected. We had dinner. We slept together. Josephine was out of the country at the time. When she returned, I introduced them, knowing the two of them had a lot in common. They hit it off, and the three of us began dating.

Things got hard.

While I allow that there were misinterpretations and misunderstandings on my end, I also got conflicting information from Josephine. Sometimes, unbridled enthusiasm for my connection with Lucinda, and sometimes, searing jealousy.

A few times, consent was withdrawn after the fact. It created an environment of fear—a constant anxiety over whether something deemed okay was actually okay.

Long story short, Josephine broke up with us, in a mostly amicable way. I’m still with Lucinda. We’re still, in theory, poly/ENM (and I’m going to have her read this just to ensure my understanding squares with hers).

While I’ve fooled around a little while traveling, with her blessing, we haven’t actively sought connections with other people at home. In large part, we’re both parents and self-employed artists and generally constantly fucking exhausted, all the time, so it’s not a priority.

But I think, too, after the ups and downs we went through during out throuple-dom, it feels nice to take a breath.

Back to your letter. A few things jumped out at me. The first is that you both struggle with mental health issues. I commend you both for seeking out support structures like counseling. But beside the roadblocks that can add to this journey, I’m sensing a little bit of… hesitancy, over whether the boundary lines are clear.

In relation to the man from another country you connected with (I’ll call him Klaus)—it seems like there was a lack of communication with your spouse, as to whether sexting was okay. If your spouse (running out of names here… uh, Gandalf), knew about it and gave you the all-clear and then changed his mind—that’s not great. If you two didn’t have that conversation, about what was permissible and what wasn’t… also not great.

But hey, it’s a process. You learned from it.

I can tell you right from the jump—and you’ll know this given that you’ve done some research and reading too—is that the most fundamental requirement of successful poly/ENM is clear communication and boundaries. More than that, while jealousy is always going to be present in a poly/ENM lifestyle, there should also be some form of compersion, meaning your partner deriving pleasure from your pleasure.

And that’s not what happened with Klaus. Gandalf reacted poorly. That’s not a good sign. I’m glad Gandalf says he’s okay with you reconnecting with Klaus… but the question is, will he be?

Because there’s a gulf between saying something and doing something. And I think that’s where most people in the poly lifestyle find issue—the point where rubber meets road (i.e. genital meets genital).

I’m not saying you shouldn’t pursue this. I’m not saying you two are making a mistake. And I don’t share my own story to dissuade you—only for you to know that I’ve been there, and I am seeing a lot of potential fracture points. I know you see them, too.

So I’m going to suggest a few things:

Go sloooooooow. Talk about everything. Keep each other informed as much as is necessary for both of you to feel comfortable (while respecting the feelings of your primary partner, and the boundaries/privacies of secondary partners).

And I’m going to strongly recommend you two find a kink-friendly couples therapist. Someone you can both talk to, who can guide you in establishing the clarity you need to do this successfully.

Once you’ve firmed up the support structures—reach out to Klaus. Maybe there’s something there worth exploring, and it’s better for him to say “no thanks” than for you to wonder. But make sure he knows and understands the circumstances.

This might be a good chance to stress-test Gandalf’s reaction. Because the rubber will meet the road, and it’ll be another good data point, for whether this is going to work.

I wish you the best of luck, in whichever path you choose.

Have a life or work quandary you’re not sure how to handle? Email advice columnist Daddy at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com for consideration for future columns

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Want to learn more about the poly lifestyle and open relationships—and a host of other subjects, including publishing, relationships, and family matters? Tickets are available for Open Secrets Live on May 5 in New York City. More details here and tickets are available at Eventbrite.

Welcome to the January 2025 installment of Dear Daddy, Open Secrets Magazine’s monthly advice column. You can find more about the column’s mission statement here. This month Daddy is giving advice about bisexuality and figuring out your sexual orientation. Submit your questions at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com.

Dear Daddy,

How do I know if I'm straight, bi, or something else? I've kissed guys, but I’ve never felt the way I did with a girl. Then again, I've never been with guys I actually liked.

—S.

Dear S.,

Before I answer your question, let me tell you a story:

The first time I had an inkling that I wasn’t entirely straight was right after college. I was at my friend’s apartment—I’ll call him Mark—with a bunch of other people, sitting around and drinking. At that point in my life, he was one of my closest friends.

Joining us that night was one of Mark’s childhood friends, a woman I’ll call Mary. Conversation turned—I don’t know how—to Mark’s very large cock. It was a running joke between Mary and Mark, I guess. I expressed some disbelief. Mark was a hundred pounds if he was wearing a heavy coat.

After a little back and forth he raised a sly eyebrow at me and asked, “Do you want to see it?”

Reader, I was drunk, and I was curious, so of course I said yes. We went into his bedroom and he took it out. And yeah, it was big. Length and girth. In that moment, something clicked in my brain.

He must have noticed.

“You want to touch it, don’t you?” he asked.

I did. I reached my hand out and started to stroke it. Then he said, “Now you have to show me yours.”

I complied. We were roughly the same size—although I was twice his size, so his cock looked a little more massive on his slim frame. Before I could say anything he was on his knees, and his mouth was on me, and…

Yeah. So that was the start. Up until then I’d kissed a few guys in college (I went to a gay-friendly liberal arts school, so it felt like an “all in good fun” kind of thing). That night with Mark was the first moment I thought maybe there was more to it.

The two of us would fool around on occasion. And over the years, while presenting as straight, I would have the occasional hookup with a man.

I eventually married a woman, and then got divorced. I hadn’t told her I was bi, because I never really put any kind of description to my orientation. When I did tell her, years into the marriage, it became a point of contention. She thought I was just gay.

I’m currently partnered with a woman who thinks my orientation is hot as fuck, and the two of us are talking about bringing in male play partners, for both of us to enjoy.

It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve been open about my bisexuality. Mostly with friends. Not with family, because that’s a can of worms I don’t feel like opening.

What I discovered is that I’m bisexual but heteroromantic. That means I experience romantic feelings toward people of the opposite gender, and enjoy sexual experiences with people of the same gender.

Which sometimes feels like an oversimplification.

I’ve had some very hot one-off hookups, off Grindr, or in the steam room of New York Sports Club (our generation’s bathhouse, iykyk…). I remain open to the possibility of feeling a romantic connection with a man.

Because Mark and I used to be very close. Less so these days. But I remember one morning, waking up in his bed. It was early, and I had to go to work. The sun had only just come up. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling my clothes on. He reached his hand over to me and put it on my thigh and he said, “Stay.”

I leaned down and kissed him, his stubble raking against my face. It was cold outside, and that bed was so warm, and more than that, he was in it, and sometimes I wonder what it would have looked like, if I had.

This is all to say: Only you can tell you what you are. And even if you decide on a way to explain it, remember that the heart is a house with many rooms. You may think you know the layout, but then you stumble across a room you never knew was there. That’s okay. Take a look around and see what you find.

We worry so much about putting titles to things, so we can understand them better. Don’t worry too much about the answers. Just keep asking questions.

And maybe figure out what kind of guys you like.

Read previous Dear Daddy advice columns.

Have a life or work quandary you’re not sure how to handle? Email advice columnist Daddy at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com for consideration for future columns.

Welcome to the December installment of Dear Daddy, Open Secrets Magazine’s monthly advice column. You can find more about the column’s mission statement here. This month Daddy is giving advice about finding jobs for money vs. jobs for passion, dealing with stubborn aging parents, and how to navigate friendships when your lives and interests have drifted part. Submit your questions at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com.

Dear Daddy,

So I am applying to certain work opportunities right now, and I only just realized that I probably won't be getting those jobs since they want experienced folks. And for the jobs I will get, the pay is going to be trash. I need to get started somewhere, right? But the thing is: I really need money? So, do I persist and try harder for the gigs I might not get, or take the one I'm getting, or something else?

—S

Let’s look at this from 10,000 feet, first: Always aim for the top and work your way down, because the worst thing anyone can do is say no.

It’s just a word. No. It might sting a little in the moment, but then you move on. It is always worth shooting your shot.

Now, to drill down a little more into specifics…

Capitalism sure does suck. It wants you to have experience, but makes that experience impossible to get. Unless have a trust fund to get you through years of scut work and low wages, the road is not going to be an easy one. It will be paved in ramen packets.

The other thing capitalism does—and this is important—is it has convinced us that we owe something to our employers. And we don’t. Not under the system we have. I’m not saying it’s every person for themselves… but I am also saying that, too.

My suggestion to you is: get yourself a job that’s going to let you support yourself even if it sucks (Job A), and keep applying to those big, dream jobs (Job B).

Build your experience AND keep your options open.

If you take Job A this week, and Job B comes along next week… resign A and take B. Don’t give up a good opportunity just because some middle-manager is upset that he can’t cover a schedule. Don’t let him guilt you like a disappointed parent. He’s not your dad. Fuck him.

Forge your own path. That’s what every single asshole sitting in a C-suite would advise you to do—up until the moment that it makes their life a little uncomfortable, and then they’re going to tell you to do what you’re told.

We don’t have to do what we’re told. Not by them, at least.

Dear Daddy,

I'm in my forties and my parents are in their seventies. They've always been very independent but are starting to need my help with more and more household tasks. We live four hours apart, and I usually visit them once a month. I don't mind, but they are very stubborn about accepting help and sometimes seem to resent me when I offer or insist on doing things for them. How can I help them feel in control of their lives while also making sure they don't burn down their house and have enough food in the fridge and get to their doctors’ appointments?

—R

I’m lucky, in the sense that I have a pretty good relationship with my parents. Going home for the holidays is easy: besides the fact that they live nearby, I actually like them.

And still, there are things I struggle to talk to them about.

I think it’s because, even though me and my father are the same height, I always picture him in my head as taller. It’s hard to take on that caretaker role with people who were meant to take care of us. Just as I imagine it’s difficult for a parent to surrender any level of autonomy to their children.

Know that it’s going to be hard, no matter what.

Something stuck out in your letter, which I think is worth unpacking: you said that you want to make sure they don’t burn the house down. Have they burned a previous house down? Are they that hopeless?

Or are you like me—are you a micromanager? Do you get consumed by the idea that only you can be trusted to perform certain tasks? This isn’t any kind of criticism. I’m a natural caretaker, but sometimes I take it too far, and I forget that other people can do things, too.

People can be empowered to make their own choices, but I burn myself out, trying to do everything for everyone.

Notice my word choice there: empower.

Recently, when confronted with situations where I’ve felt the need to take on too much, I asked myself if there’s a learning opportunity there. Can I give a person the information and tools they need to complete the task at hand, and then move on to something else?

It won’t absolve me of responsibility if something goes sideways, in the sense that I’m still going to be hard on myself if it does. But I know, for my own mental health, I have to stop fishing for people, and instead, teach them how to fish.

They can decide if they’re up to the task.

And if it’s clear they’re not, then you need to step in and say, with a clear voice, that they need your help, and they need to accept that, because you love them, and want what’s best for them. Remind yourself that you are now taller than them, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Hopefully, they listen.

Dear Daddy,

Ever since I became a parent three years ago, most of my friends have been incredibly supportive, whether or not they have kids. But two of my friends have barely expressed any interest in my son, and only nominal interest in me. I don't know if it's because we used to always go out together and they thought of me more as a party friend than a deep talk type of friend, but it's hard for me to find closure. I find myself still reaching out over and over even though the responses I get are usually brief and they never reach out to me.

—K

The other day I picked up my daughter from school. She was bereft—apparently one friend was in a fight with another friend and this was causing a rift in their little circle. It was a lot of drama that was nearly impossible to follow, and for the first time I felt out of my depth as a parent. In part, because girls can be mean. You should have heard some of the shit they were saying. And they’re only in grade school!

I asked my daughter if she could guess how many people I was still friends with from grade school. She was surprised when I told her “zero.”

Unrelated, but a little related: when I got divorced I lost a very good friend. We had been ride-or-die since college. But I had an affair, which no doubt soured her opinion of me. I don’t blame her—it soured my own opinion of me.

Her and my ex-wife are still friends. I have recurring dreams where we run into each other, and we talk about it, or try to. I wake up, wondering if I should call her. I don’t. She doesn’t call me.

One day we’re going to run into each other, and I wonder what it’ll be like. Maybe we can talk our way through our feelings. Maybe we can’t and that door is closed.

I’ve come to accept that. It’s sad. But just as my marriage ended because me and my ex grew apart (and because I was a dumbass), it happens with friendships too.

Friendships don’t really work if you have to force it.

It’s always sad when something ends. But maybe your friendships with these people have ended. Maybe you’re not compatible anymore. I’m sorry for your loss. Take a little time to mourn.

But understand, too, that the best kind of closure is to forgive yourself, love yourself, and move on, thankful for the time you had together. Then go put your time and love and energy into the people who return your calls.

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Have a life or work quandary you’re not sure how to handle? Email advice columnist Daddy at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com for consideration for future columns.

Welcome to Dear Daddy, Open Secrets Magazine’s monthly advice column. You can find more about the column’s mission statement here. This week brings us some great questions about navigating sex and love with health issues, and seeking the kind of domination you deserve. Submit your questions at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com.

Dear Daddy,

In 2015, I underwent a blistering treatment for anal cancer that involved daily radiation treatments simultaneously with chemo. It was rough. But it saved my life. Unfortunately, a major side effect of the treatment was that it killed my libido. Almost totally. Occasionally I still feel a flash of sexual interest, but my body won’t cooperate. I can briefly get a semi hard-on, but it deflates nearly as soon as it’s handled. 

My spouse of 27 years died unexpectedly in 2017. He was understanding about my medical condition. Now, seven years later, I really miss being married. But for a lot of people in my category (queer men), sex figures hugely in a relationship, especially when it’s new. It’s pretty much the definition of a relationship. 

Since nowadays I’m medically asexual, is there any hope that I can ever attract a partner again? Thanks for any thoughts you might have about this.

Love,

Sexless in St. Louis 

Dear Sexless,

You’ve lived a lot of life in the last decade. The fact that you’re here is a testament to your strength and perseverance. I’m proud of you.

There are a few things to think about: Yes, in a lot of relationships between men, sex is a big factor. But I wonder if we’re painting with too broad a brush. Libidos differ. There are folks out there happy with the occasional romp, or a warm person to cuddle at the end of the day. There are no wrong answers when it comes to desire. Being one way and not the other is not a defect. That’s just your template, and it’s a matter of finding someone else with a similar template.

The question is: how do you find that person?

If there was an easy answer, you would have done it already!

I would suggest you call on the courage it took to write this letter, and put yourself on the apps, or attend events (sexy or non-sexy!), and be very clear, from the jump, where you are emotionally and physically. Reveal as much as you are comfortable with and follow your instincts.

It might take some time, and yes, it may sometimes be discouraging. But you have weathered a hell of a lot. I don’t doubt your ability to put in the work it takes to find your happiness. And I don’t doubt there are plenty of men out there who match up with your particular template.

From a mechanical standpoint, there’s nothing wrong with medical assistance, in consultation with a health professional. I’ve used performance-enhancing pills from time to time, and they can be quite fun! Maybe that’s what it’ll take—some training wheels to start off, so you can safely get back on the road. But I am not a doctor! If you want to try that, talk to one first.

Hey, you got this. It might not be easy. But you’ve done things that are much harder.

Dear Daddy,

I’m curious about submission, but my interest is very narrow. Most of my fantasies involve spanking and submission, but I don’t want pain. It’s more an emotional/erotic thing.

I remember reading a story about a Dom who tied a sub up with a fragile thread—it wouldn’t actually restrain her, so the domination was mental. “Don’t break the thread or you’ll be punished.” That kind of mental game really appeals to me. I also really get off on “good girl” and “bad girl” language.

I don’t want humiliation, so it needs to be caring, nurturing, “I’m doing this for your own good” kind of stuff. And I’d like to do this with someone who is experienced, because I’m already nervous enough. I’m pansexual, but for this I think my preference would either be a voluptuous femme (imagine long flowing hair with her boobs overflowing her corset) or a soft butch woman.

Is there a name for this type of activity? Where would you suggest I look for it? And assuming I have to write an ad, what should it say?

From,

Princess

Dear Princess,

R.O. Kwon’s latest book, Exhibit, is about a woman rediscovering her sexuality while being dominated by another woman. The Domme gives the narrator a bell, tied to a strip of ribbon; if the bell drops, the scene ends.

Domination doesn’t require being restrained. It doesn’t require whips and canes. It doesn’t require physical pain.

It only requires structure and agreement.

Here’s a little secret about domination: the power lies with the sub. The sub relinquishes power in return for pleasure—whatever form that pleasure might take. And when a Dom/Domme (D) is handed that power, they take on the responsibility of respecting and honoring that.

You’re going into this with a lot of mindfulness and a little trepidation. This is good. Any D who does not hear this, and respect this, is a shitty D. Full stop, I will brook no argument.

You might meet Ds who will say that true submission means no boundaries and no safewords. Those Ds suck and should be avoided. They are abusive people using kink dynamics as a shield.

I believe you have two options in seeking out a dynamic that best meets your desire. First are the apps, like Feeld. There will be a lot of chaff to separate before you get to the wheat. And if you hit it off with someone, ask them to meet first for coffee, but without play on the table. A good, experienced D will respect the need for a vibe and safety check.

You can also look for queer-friendly kink events in your city (using Google, Instagram, etc.). Do your best to vet them. If they’re unsafe, there’s a good chance people will express that in online spaces.

Your area may not have queer-friendly kink events, which brings us back to apps.

As for what to write? Pretty much what you wrote here. A good D/s dynamic involves clear communication. You told me, clearly, what you wanted. Now write that into a profile.

As a Dom, I am generally excited to play with someone who says they have less experience, because it gives me the opportunity to practice my skills and set a good example for that person going forward.

Also, that thread idea is amazing, and I may put it into my rotation…

Dear Daddy,

My butch wife and I have been happily together for more than a decade. She’s an excellent, attentive partner. I therefore feel guilty that I am perpetually bothered by her struggle with her weight. She weighs more than a 100 pounds than she did when she was in college, which I know causes her shame and discomfort. She is always saying that this is the year she is going to become a jacked-up, shredded ninja. But over and over I watch her fail at her diet and exercise attempts. She has lost up to 50 pounds, but then gained back 60. 

I find her much more attractive when she is slimmer, and have to wear love glasses to see her as she wants to be rather than as she is. Our sexual positions, ability to be adventurous, and her agility are compromised by her weight. 

She claims she is fat simply because she’s always hungry and feels nauseated if she doesn’t eat often, but sometimes she eats two or three sandwiches at a time, far more than are needed to satisfy basic hunger. Her eating habits seem like a form of self-harm, which makes them hard to watch. She refuses to go to therapy, because she argues that being overweight is a cultural condition, not a personal problem she is having.

This is the one issue causing me unhappiness in our marriage. I want to be supportive of her and to love her no matter what she looks like, but it feels difficult to work up passion for her when she is morbidly obese and unable to address the issue in any lasting way. What do you advise? 

Femme wife

Dear Femme wife,

If your wife were asking this question, I would suggest she track her macros, eat in a slight calorie deficit with a focus on fiber and protein, walk 7,000-10,000 steps a day, and enjoy the occasional indulgent meal so that the process doesn’t feel onerous.

Then I’d remind her that this is a long-haul process, and when you take shortcuts to speed things up, you end up miserable and uncomfortable—which means you won’t stay on track.

But she didn’t ask. You did.

And even though you’re making it sounds like a her problem, it sounds like more of a you problem.

Because, in the end, it’s her body and her health. The problem, as you present it, is not that she’s overweight, is that you don’t like that she’s overweight. You’re casting her behavior as self-harm, which is your interpretation. Is it hers?

Have you considered therapy? I don’t mean to be rude in suggesting that, but I do think you might need to come to a place of acceptance that your wife is who she is, and she might not be capable of changing just because you want her to.

She needs to want it. And if she doesn’t want it, that’s not something you can force her to do.

We want the people we love to be healthy. We want them to live long lives. And there’s a physical component to attraction that, while it’s not the only thing that matters, it matters. The question you need to ask yourself is: if this is who you wife is, if this is the way her body is going to be in perpetuity, is that something you can love about her? Or is it a dealbreaker?

Again, she didn’t ask me for help, but if she is in the market for actionable advice, and she expresses a clear desire for assistance, she might benefit more from a personal trainer than a therapist. I lost 40 pounds working with a trainer. It can be a little pricey and might take a little work to find one who is both affordable and legit.

It’s a gamechanger—we really are very bad at assessing our own eating habits, and no matter how hard you exercise, you can’t out-train a bad diet. But it won’t matter if that’s not what she wants.

And maybe you need to decide if you can be okay with that.

Dear Daddy,

There probably isn’t an easy answer to my question, which is about dating with chronic illness. I caught COVID back in 2020 and it wrecked my body. My “long COVID” escalated to a complex, post viral neuroimmune disorder called ME/CFS, which is a disease of flares and remissions. So sometimes I’m healthier and sometimes I’m sicker. 

To be frank, I’m pretty disabled right now. I’m coming out of a bad flare and spending a lot of time in bed. I have no idea where I’m going to land in terms of function. But I’m well enough that I’m really itching for intimacy. And I have no idea how to meet people like this.

Dating while disabled would be hard enough. But throw in the wrench that I’m kinky. Before I got sick, I was active in the public BDSM scene in the city where I lived, and met most of my partners at events or through friends. Now, I live in a different, smaller city, closer to family, and I don’t really have access to kink spaces because I’m so severely immunocompromised—it’s a big deal if I get sick. Which makes this world of mask-bans and pandemic denial feel carnival-funhouse scary. 

And the internet is a mean, depressing place. The dating sites I’ve had the most success on are Feeld and OkCupid, but I haven’t really had any success at all.

I can’t be the only kinky person in the world with long COVID or another chronic illness or disability who is restless and wanting to meet someone. But I’m not sure where to start. I’d love to hear any ideas you have for how to go about meeting folks. 

Thanks for your thoughts!

Signed,

My illness is chronic, but my ass is iconic

Dear Iconic Ass,

I’m sorry you’re struggling, but I commend you for wanting to get back in the game, and do it safely. Unfortunately, you’re right—this is not an easy answer. Because if someone were to ask me how to get into the kink space, I would tell them to attend events and use the apps.

The best course of action might be further investigation into the apps. I know, I know, the apps can suck. As stated in a previous response, there’s a lot of chaff to clear. But it does allow you to continue your journey at a distance, in a way that’s better suited to your health.

That said, I’d like to suggest an experiment. Maybe—for a short time at least—you should change your search parameters.

Let’s say you’re a sub looking for a Dom… maybe start looking for other subs.

Use the apps to find friends, not people to fuck.

Right now you’re stuck on an island—that island being your bed. You’re in a different city, removed from your comfort zone and your previous contacts. This might be the time to invest on building a new community.

I’m sure you aren’t the only kinky person concerned about their health. Maybe what you need right now are some like-minded friends, who might be able to introduce you to safe spaces and playmates.

It can’t hurt to try, right?

I wish you the best of luck in your journey to get your ass safely spanked (or whatever it is that revs your engine), but more than that, I hope your health improves. This post-pandemic world is stupid, and sucks, and it’s important for all of us to remember how many people are still struggling.

Do you have a question for Daddy? Write to deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com.

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Welcome to Dear Daddy, an advice column graciously hosted by Open Secrets.

I’m Daddy.

More specifically: I’m an author, a divorced dad, and a queer Dom. I’m also an avid cook and fitness enthusiast. That’s as specific as I’m going to get, other than to say I’m in love with advice columns, after years of religiously reading the guidance offered at places like Dear Prudence and Dear Sugar.

I’ve always dreamt of writing one, and I’m deeply thankful to Rachel Kramer Bussel for offering me this opportunity.

Why Daddy? It’s an honorarium within the kink space that appeals to me, as I’ve always relished and respected the caretaker role it implies. Outside of that space, I have served as a divorce whisperer, and work with novice writers seeking to navigate the publishing industry.

I just like helping people, in acknowledgement of both my experiences and my limitations. Now I’d like to try it on a wider scale. I hope that within the anonymity offered to me by the sobriquet, I can come from an honest, thoughtful place that puts the focus on the person seeking counsel. And I hope that others can find comfort or commonalities within that.

I’d like to use this column to explore… whatever you want to ask. Publishing, sex, kink, relationships, parenting, etiquette, fitness—I’m open to anything.

Open Secrets Magazine is home to memorably, revealing personal essays about all the subjects we’re taught to keep “secret.” I hope to work within that mission from a place of care and kindness.

But I know I have to earn your trust. So I’m humbly inviting a few of you to submit some questions, at deardaddyopensecrets@gmail.com, to get this ball rolling. Your secrets are safe with me; letters will be published pseudonymously.

I’ll take a few of those questions and answer them next month, and hopefully, it’ll be the start of something special. If not, I’ll be glad that I tried.

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