How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Send your questions for Stoya and Rich to howtodoit@slate.com. Nothing’s too small (or big).

Dear How to Do It,

I’m a gay woman in my 30s with a question about masturbation etiquette. Since coming out in my teens, I’ve gone by the rule that masturbating while fantasizing about good friends is a violation of the trust in a friendship, but that other “characters” in my life—a sexy lecturer, hot boss, cute client, etc.—are fair game.

Someone of this ilk from my professional life has, over a couple of years, made the slide into what I’d consider a genuine friend, and in the process my attraction to her has only intensified. She’s been my No. 1 fantasy for longer than I care to admit. Do I need to stop if she’s now my friend? Or am I being too paranoid/prudish with my rule? Obviously, I would never ever confess this to the (straight) woman in question, or anyone connected with her or my work. I’ve been on the receiving end of a similar explicit friendship-ending confession from a cis het dude before and am well aware of how icky that felt. I do feel, though, that the problem in that case was more that he felt it was OK to tell me, rather than his thoughts themselves. I knew he was attracted to me and was comfortable choosing not to think about what exactly that might entail.

This situation has the added nuance that it’s not juuuust a friendship, it is an actively flirty friendship. I’ve made it clear that I find her attractive, and she basks in and encourages my attentions. (Yes, I did read the “work wife” article doing the rounds recently … I know this situation is full of doom and peril.) For context, I’m junior in both age and professional hierarchy. If I’m giving her cheeky compliments to her face, does that make it less dishonest to be getting off behind her back? I don’t want to be just as bad as a sleazy straight dude.

—Banish the Thought

Dear Banish the Thought,

I would love to flip through the etiquette book that taught you this rule or maybe take a tour of your finishing school’s campus. I have no idea where you got this in your head, but it does seem like teenaged (albeit well-meaning) reasoning and you are … no longer a teenager. It’s as though you read Orwell and gleaned the wrong lesson. “Thought crimes” are not a thing. Unless you’re having explicit conversations with new friends in which you vow never to so much as consider them as sexual beings, assuming they’d entertain such talk in the first place, what’s the trust that you’re violating, exactly?

You aren’t dishonest for being attracted to someone you know; you’re just human.

I do admire your self-control, if you have successfully lived by this rule. For me, fantasies tend to manifest like any other thoughts—they float into the forefront of my mind like clouds, and it takes a good deal of concentration to push them into the background. I feel largely powerless about what turns me on, and I just happen to be lucky enough to have interests that are legal and ethical if played out. But for even the most extreme case of someone whose fantasies would be considered antisocial behavior if acted upon—a pedophile, for example—experts advise we should be far less concerned with their interests than their behavior. The fantasies are inevitable; the physical follow-through doesn’t have to be. You don’t know a straight dude is sleazy until he demonstrates that he is; up until that point he’s just a dude.

So no, I do not think that you have to stop fantasizing about this person. You already know to keep it to yourself. You aren’t dishonest for being attracted to someone you know; you’re just human. Without this mechanism—attraction—our species would likely cease to exist. It feels rather Catholic of you to be so hard on yourself and actively cast harmless thoughts out of your head. You’re OK! The playful flirting is OK! That you are concerned about this issue at all means you are better than every practicing sleazy straight dude on earth. You win that. One point for Gryffindor, or whatever dorm you were in.

Dear How to Do It,

My boyfriend (I’m a woman) and I have been together for over a year now, and we are very much in love. He is 35 and I am 38. We have had an amazing sex life until recently, because he has had some problems staying hard and finishing. It doesn’t happen often, but enough that it is wrecking my self-esteem. He seemed truly bothered by it happening and assured me that it wasn’t because of me, but I still can’t help but think it is. We have tried a few things to help him, but he refuses to see a doctor. He is from a different culture and feels it is unmanly and humiliating to get medical help. I understand his feelings, so I haven’t pushed very hard for him to still see a physician.

The other day I found out that despite these issues, he is still masturbating and watches porn every day. I know that all men do it, but it just seems like a slap in the face because of all the problems we’ve been having. Especially since I can’t help but think it’s me that is causing his problem. Please help me to feel better about this. I’m trying so hard not to feel hurt and to be mad about the situation.

—Hard to Sympathize

Dear Hard to Sympathize,

You only think this is about you because you don’t have the equipment to truly know how it works. It’s not about you. I promise. Erectile dysfunction has many causes—not getting enough sleep, diabetes, and stress are three—and anxiety about it tends to make it worse. Your boyfriend could be masturbating because it’s less intimidating at this point. If his dick doesn’t get hard enough to perform, he’s only letting down himself (and if he finds it easy to get hard by himself, it could be because of the lack of performance anxiety in his one-man arrangement). Even if you want to hang your self-image on his limp dick (a terrible hanger, above all else!), your reasoning is selective, thus faulty: If he’s not having erection problems often, by your logic, it would mean that his dick still mostly approves of you. Focus on that and understand that making this about your self-esteem could only create more boner-killing stress.

Speaking of selective reasoning: I don’t get how he figures that a limp dick is manlier than a doctor-facilitated hard one. ED can indicate or portend health issues such as, but not limited to, those I listed above. A recently released study found that men with erectile dysfunction are at a higher risk for heart attack (by 59 percent), stroke (by 34 percent), and dying from any cause (33 percent). He would probably consider being alive manlier and less humiliating than being dead, right? Keep pushing him to make that appointment.

Dear How to Do It,

I’m a 23-year-old bisexual female in a long-term relationship with my boyfriend of six years. We have discussed threesomes in the past. He would prefer one with another woman, which I’m fine with if we could find a partner. However, he is against one with another man, as he doesn’t want to watch another man have sex with me and doesn’t feel comfortable being around another naked man. He has recently told me that, if I wanted to test the waters, I could have sex with another man on my own. I don’t believe he’s testing me, as he’s very truthful about what he feels. While I am interested in sleeping with someone else (he’s the only man I’ve slept with, though I’ve slept with women before him), I also feel like I would be cheating on him even though he said it’s OK. I love him so much that the thought of losing him over anything makes me physically ill, and I’d rather forgo my sexual wants than lose him. At the same time, I’m finding it harder to ignore that I want more in my sex life. How do I handle all this?

—Risky Waters?

Dear Risky Waters,

Feeling like you’d be cheating even though your boyfriend gave you permission to have sex would be like feeling like you’re eating a healthy breakfast when you’re scarfing down some sugary cereal. It just isn’t the case! What defines cheating isn’t the sex, but the lies and deception; the wonderful thing about open arrangements is that they can eliminate the very concept of cheating from your relationship (as long as the terms of said open arrangement, of course, are adhered to).

But that’s all thinking stuff, and in the words of the ’80s smooth soul family collective DeBarge, the heart is not so smart. If feelings were rational, they wouldn’t be feelings; they’d be thoughts. I relate to your letter to a certain extent as someone who has been effectively tested by a past partner who agreed to an open arrangement but then rescinded once it had been put into practice. The ensuing drama made me feel like I’d been cheating despite working within the lines that we drew up together. I’ve also felt guilt in my current relationship despite our consistently harmonious openness. Very early on in our nonmonogamy, I met my boyfriend for dinner after I’d hooked up with another guy. At the time, one of our rules was that if we were going to hook up while in the same city, we had to tell each other in advance, which I had. Still, I was clenched up with shame, a sort of equal and opposite reaction to openness and liberation, I suppose. I thought my boyfriend might regret giving his OK to the encounter, or maybe regret getting mixed up with a slut like me in the first place. But he didn’t. I sat down, and he looked at me with the same ecstatic eyes that he always has, laughed his same laugh, performed his same gentle steering the conversation back to positive territory when I complained too much. It was fine, just like he had said it was and would be.

Seeing his reaction firsthand—really understanding that he could handle this arrangement as indicated—did a lot to get me over irrational guilt. You might just have to take the plunge and see if your boyfriend has the constitution that he claims. Like any plunge, it’s scary. But look, you’ve been together for six years, and were a single encounter for which you were given express permission to destroy everything, you would learn that your foundation isn’t nearly as solid as it needs to be. It would be a tough lesson, but a necessary one.

Consider this as well: By your telling, your boyfriend has given you no reason to feel guilty; it’s coming from within. Does it speak to larger issues you may have about your desires in a culture that rams monogamy down your throat and has been traditionally unkind to women’s sexuality? Do a little bit of reading about nonmonogamy (start with The Ethical Slut), perhaps talk to a therapist, and know: You’re not alone, and there is nothing wrong with you.

Dear How to Do It,

I am 23 years old, and my husband is 39. We have been together for four years. I no longer enjoy having sex with him. Every time, I just think of being with other men. I love my husband—he is a very good man—but I have just lost interest in him sexually. Sometimes, I am tempted to cheat, but I know that would destroy our relationship and I don’t want to lose that. What should I do?

—Lost the Spark

Dear Lost the Spark,

Well, you’re never going to get a pass for cheating in these parts, so you can scratch that one off your list or find a different prescriber (a Dr. Feelgood–type of advice columnist, if you will). The standard HTDI method involves 1) talking to your partner, 2) opening up your relationship, and 3) reconsidering your situation. (I’d call it TOR, but sci-fi and privacy geeks already own the name.)

You’ve given me very little to work with here, and I’m going to assume that it’s because you have given yourself so little to work with. You’re never going to solve an interpersonal problem without communication. If you could, you’d have a superpower to qualify you for Dr. Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. I’m not confident that you’ve discussed this issue with your husband, and you should in the most delicate way possible. You could, for example, focus on your desires as opposed to his shortcomings. Wanting to have sex with other people is natural and common. Some partners hate to hear it, but none can prevent it; it’s best they get used to the idea.

I can’t not comment on the age disparity between you and your husband, which while not obscene is considerable. You are at a different stage of life than the man that you married at 19, when he was 35. Today, your brain is still developing while he slouches toward middle age. That has to be tough in many ways, not just sexually, though it wouldn’t be surprising to discover that while your libido is in high gear (and getting higher), his is on the wane. Regardless, this problem is only going to get worse if you aren’t proactive. Imagine living the rest of your life like this—that would be the best-case scenario. I hope that prospect alone is enough to galvanize you.

—Rich

More Advice From Slate

I’m a 27-year-old woman who recently made friends with a nice, attractive 34-year-old man. He asked me out for drinks soon thereafter and made it clear that he’s interested in a romantic relationship. He’s my type, and I like him, but after our date he explained that he’s in an open marriage. I have no doubt that it’s a mutual agreement between him and his wife. And I’m in a situation that makes the idea especially appealing: I just got out of a two-year relationship that was sexually unsatisfying (my boyfriend rarely climaxed). It left me feeling as if there’s something wrong with me. The idea of a fling with someone new, with no commitment potential and nothing to lose, seems like it could be a positive ego boost for me as I look for single, available men to date. New guy is saying: Let me be your rebound! Let’s be friends with benefits! But most of my friends think it’s a morally objectionable thing to do and doubt that I can get involved without getting my feelings hurt in the long run. What do you think?