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The entire globe is feeling the effects of Coronavirus, and those of us in the healing sexual therapies are no exception. For surrogate partners and other hands-on healers, social distancing guidelines seem to imply that our practices are on pause until further notice — if we’re not even supposed to be within a few feet of each other, skin-to-skin contact is definitely a no-go.

Well, we may not be able to touch our clients, but that doesn’t mean we have to cancel our sessions completely. As a surrogate partner, I’ve found video sessions surprisingly productive these past couple weeks. We often play a significant role in our clients’ social lives, and now more than ever those connections matter. Apps like Zoom and Skype make it easy to share space without . . . well, actually sharing space.

Here are some exercise ideas I’ve been using for video sessions — I created them with surrogate partners, sexual healers, and sex workers in mind, but they could even be useful for long distance couples and partners who are separated by Coronavirus restrictions:

Lead your client in guided self touch. Here’s a quick recording I did of a self sensate focus exercise involving the hand and arm (you can do this exercise with any part of the body, or the full body)

Take turns asking each other “will you” questions:

• • “will you lick your fingers and touch your nipples?”
  • “will you take off your pants?” 
  • “will you moan if you’re enjoying yourself?”
  • Either of you can say no anytime. Think of “no”s as “no-and”s — an invitation to try something else instead*

Strip for each other! Make it extra juicy: exchange one item of clothing for one vivid description of a favorite shared sexual moment

Share fantasies of how you want to touch the other person while you both touch yourselves. Get creative! Encourage your client to try on ideas they would never feel comfortable initiating in real life

Demonstrate how you like to touch yourself, up close and personal — the container of the screen actually provides a great opportunity to learn the nuances of one another’s bodies

* The language “no and . . .” comes from the brilliant minds of intimacy directors, as an alternative to the improv concept of “yes and . . .” Intimacy directors are theater professionals who guide actors and directors in choreographing erotic scenes using consent-forward practices. To learn more, check out Claire Warden, Maya Herbsman, and Intimacy Directors International.

In the three years since I started my practice, I’ve observed that the vast majority of folks who contact me are cis men. I work in the queerest metropolitan area in the whole country and yet I can count on one hand the number of women and nonbinary folks who’ve reached out to me (and even fewer of those have turned into clients I’ve worked with). There are obviously all sorts of social barriers to folks other than cis men pursuing this work, but I want to say loudly and clearly: LGBTQIA+ people deserve surrogate partner therapy too!

As a female surrogate who works with people of all genders and sexualities (and as a queer person myself), I’ve been saddened how few queer folks I’ve had the opportunity to work with. It’s an undeniably vulnerable act to seek professional help for sexual challenges, especially to seek intimate work like surrogate partner therapy. It makes sense that those of us who’ve been socialized to believe our sexual desires aren’t a priority, or told that our sexual or gender identity is shameful and wrong, have a hard time asking for the therapeutic support we need. Often, those who don’t feel entitled to sexual healing are the ones who need it the most.

It’s the duty of those of us in sexual healing professions — surrogate partners, sexological bodyworkers, energy workers, and especially therapists — to get the word out about the services and modalities available to clients of all genders and sexualities, not just those explicitly seeking them out.

What surrogate partner therapy offers that no other modality does is the opportunity to practice relationship skills in a two-directional, hands-on environment. For clients who have experienced trauma, never learned basic dating skills, or are afraid to enter a romantic relationship, this safe, caring practice space can be invaluable.

If you are a queer, lesbian, trans, intersex, or asexual individual, or a therapist who works with LGBTQIA+ clients, and you’re interested in working with me, please don’t hesitate to contact me; I’m happy to answer your questions, explain the surrogate partner therapy process, and help you decide if this modality is a good fit.

Journalist Kate Julian has been popping up everywhere lately thanks to her recent article in The Atlantic about the “Sex Recession” — the national trend of young people having less sex and fewer sexual partners than previous generations. On a recent episode of the podcast 2038, she discusses contributing factors (social media and technology, increasing depression and anxiety rates, a struggling economy that’s led many people in their twenties to live at home with their parents) and the possible consequences for the future; that is to say, what does a future with a lot less sex look like?

Kate Julian on 2038:

The episode is well worth a listen, although it leaves me with far more questions than answers. One of these is: is this trend all bad?

Certainly, I can see the cause for Julian’s concern. Many of the sexless young adults she spoke to were frustrated and lonely, and as she discussed the isolation that results from social media, porn, streaming websites, and “any kind of digital occupation that makes it less desirable to go out and connect with somebody in the real world,” I couldn’t help thinking of Incels — “involuntary celibates,” a hate group of men who believe women owe them sex. In our rape culture, the violent impacts of a sexually frustrated population will likely land on oppressed populations — i.e., women and gender nonconforming people, and particularly those who are people of color, poor, and disabled.

But Julian also talks about the positive sides of this shift, which I think are worth dwelling on. A society in which there is no stigma for being unpartnered, where single people can feel normal and proud? Hallelujah! A healthier solo sex life for each of us: the normalization and celebration of masturbation? Amen. And perhaps, although Julian doesn’t go this far, empowerment to make whatever sexual choices seem truest to ourselves (I’m thinking of the study a couple years ago that found that less than half of Generation Z identifies as “exclusively heterosexual,” which is largely attributed to the connective power of the internet).

Yet perhaps where Julian’s thoughts leave me with the most curiosity is in this: are there ways we can positively shape this cultural change, rather than simply bemoan and try to fight it? (“God exists to be shaped. God is change.” – Octavia Butler). Surrogate Partner Therapy and other healing sex work professions certainly come to mind — ways to heal the internalized sex negativity of our society. But perhaps even more importantly, how do we instill values of intimacy, authenticity, and consent in ourselves, and in young people? As Julian mentions, sexual education is central to this. But perhaps even more importantly — can we model this for the next generation in our own relationships? I’m left mulling: how can we use the internet to foster deeper connections and a healthier sex life, rather than letting it alienate us?

There are a lot of articles popping up on the internet these days about “sex surrogates” — “What I learned from a male sex surrogate,” “Sexual Surrogates help many who may suffer alone,” even Wikipedia has a page titled “Sexual Surrogate.” Although these articles often highlight the work of incredible, talented surrogates, their use of this term can be a bit misleading. Within the community of the people doing this work, most of us call ourselves Surrogate Partners.

So what’s confusing about “Sex Surrogate?” To start with, sex is only a small portion of the work we do with an individual client, and plenty of clients choose never to engage in sex at all. Most clients come to us because they’re struggling to engage in intimate physical relationships. They are seeking to heal past trauma, deep insecurities, or physical challenges. They are ready to engage in a process of dramatic self work. They’re not just looking for sex.

For most clients, the first several sessions are focused solely on building comfort in their own bodies; touch doesn’t start until much later. Once the client, therapist, and Surrogate Partner all agree that the client is ready to physically engage with the surrogate, touch begins very slowly. If a surrogate and a client do engage in sex, it usually takes months (and sometimes even years) of work.

Which brings up another issue — what, exactly, is sex? Many folks would probably define ‘sex’ as penetrative sex, a concept that I think is pretty heteronormative and inflexible, not to mention something that many clients aren’t even seeking. What about laying in bed next to each other naked? What about oral sex, which feels pretty darn intimate to me? What about the dozens of other sexual activities that build intimacy? I like to think of ‘sex’ as something much more expansive than the ‘sex’ that’s usually implied in the media. The limitations of this outdated definition of sex make the term “Sex Surrogate” feel insufficient.

What about the term “Surrogate Partner?” It came from way back in the day — the 70s, to be exact — when William Masters and Virginia Johnson, a clinical research team, began developing a methodology to treat sexual dysfunction. In the initial research, they used only married couples, but when single folks started reaching out to them with the same needs, they sought out surrogate partners — in other words, replacement spouses.

I admit, I find the term less than satisfactory. I don’t want to be anyone’s replacement anything — I have genuine, meaningful relationships with each of my clients (which helps them go on to have genuine, meaningful relationships with all their future partners). Unlike a birth surrogate, who is quite literally filling in for a mother during pregnancy, I don’t aim to serve as a surrogate romantic partner but to be a friend and guide along the journey to intimacy.

I also don’t like the way that “Surrogate Partner” implies that people are meant to have a single partner for most of their life. As an advocate for alternative relationship structures, I deeply appreciate the myriad ways people find to romantically connect with one another. I don’t want to contribute to the oppressive structures of a society that tells us to be straight and monogamous.

I think if I were to choose a term for my work completely on my own, I’d choose something like “Intimacy Guide” or “Therapeutic Companion.” But as a member of the small community of Surrogate Partners, community and solidarity are much more important to me than the label I use for my job. I want to see this therapy heal as many people as possible. The only way to continually expand the reach of SPT is to grow the community of Surrogate Partners, which I believe happens not just through education about the work but also through building a supportive, active, deeply connected community of Surrogate Partners. So, even though I don’t think it is a perfect term, I identify as a Surrogate Partner in order to support my fellow surrogates and be part of a community that is doing invaluable work. I feel truly blessed to be part of this community.