How do I know if I’m a bottom?
Those of us who are bottoms are often perceived to get the raw end of the deal, but here are my 5 tips on bottoming for beginners.
Since starting Material Queer, I have received countless emails and pitches about sex, many from the LGBTQ+ community who, quite frankly and rightly so, are nervous about sex.
That’s S-E-X.
Yes, you can say it out loud. It’s not a dirty word. Feeling embarrassed to talk about sex and our bodies is not something innate—we are taught to feel that shame from a frighteningly young age.
The times they are a-changin'
Although I have had a lot of sex, I’m not a sexpert, but with experience comes advice and you can bet your bottom dollar (LOL!) I’ve got some of that.
I remember my first time. It was romantic. It was cold. He was Gary. It was 2005, and Shockwave’s wet-look gel was all the rage. Gary had it on his head in slabs, all brought forward with a fine comb, and you could see each parting like a ridged field during harvest, with a few wispy strays glued to his forehead. He wore a checked white and blue short-sleeved Super Dry shirt, and to complete the look, boot-cut jeans with brown brogues.
He caught my attention with a Marlboro Gold and had me hooked with a double vodka, soda, and lime. On the dance floor, he had his hands in my back pockets, and we just swayed like we were at an American high school prom, both of us coming up from the pills we had taken before meeting each other, but that was irrelevant. We were in love. Not the walk-down-the-aisle-to-the-first-song-we-listened-to-together (Don’t Cha by the Pussycat Dolls, FYI) kind of love, but a bag of chips and a shift in an alley round the back of Pepe’s kind of way, as Don’t Phunk with My Heart by the Black Eyed Peas played.
At that moment, “bottoming” wasn’t a concept I knew about. It wasn’t until years later that I learned sexual vocabulary and discovered that as a community, we created words that divided our desires into roles like “top,” “versatile,” “side,” and “bottom.” With these roles came skills to develop, stereotypes to navigate, misconceptions to address, and a surprising amount of cultural shame.
Getting better at bottoming required me to see through all that and trust my experience. In my mind, I continuously returned to that first experience. It felt right because it was right. It was the opposite of shame; it was my body doing what it needed to do.
Today, bottoming is a fantastic part of my life. I’m proud of the sex I have and enjoy helping others discover what they love. No shame allowed.
If you're interested in trying bottoming, here are my five tips to get you started.
Am I a bottom?
What does being a "bottom" mean to you? Firstly, you don’t have to "be" anything. You don’t have to make something you enjoy sexually part of your identity.
I love bottoming and want my sexual partners to know that; it helped me find tops (guys who enjoy taking the active role in sex).
These labels make finding sex partners easier, but they don’t define you unless you want them to. Before hookup apps like Grindr and Scruff standardised this vocabulary, queer men used discreet street coding, coloured hankies, and certain clothing types to signal what kind of sex they were looking for and which role they preferred.
How do I know if I will enjoy bottoming?
Bottoming often isn’t very enjoyable at first. For many, it’s uncomfortable initially. All sex is awkward when you’re inexperienced.
But don’t give up. With practice comes pleasure.
Once you get the hang of it, there are rewards to reap.
Is bottoming safe?
Anal sex carries risks similar to vaginal sex for sexually transmitted infections like chlamydia and gonorrhea. HIV is more prevalent among certain populations (transgender women of color and men who have sex with men), so anal sex poses a higher risk of HIV transmission for these groups.
HIV is often associated with my community, leading many beginners to think bottoming is extremely dangerous.
That’s not true. All sex—bottoming, topping, oral, manual—carries risks, just as it does for heterosexuals. Learning about these risks and how to mitigate them (using protection and being smart) allows you to enjoy bottoming without fear.
How to prepare for bottoming
Many people choose to douche before bottoming, which involves using water to clean the lower rectum to flush out any fecal matter. You can do this with an enema, either a disposable one from a pharmacy (make sure to empty any laxatives and replace them with water) or a larger squeeze bulb with a nozzle from a sex shop or online.
As you gain experience, your douching routine may evolve. You’ll find the type of douche you prefer, discover various cleaning methods, or even decide you don’t need to douche at all. Many people don't, and it's not always necessary for a pleasurable experience.
When starting out with douching, take it slow. Lubricate the tip of your enema with a body-safe lubricant, preferably silicone-based, and gently insert the nozzle. Squeeze the bulb slowly to fill your rectum with water. You don’t need a lot of water as a beginner. Advanced practices require more extensive cleaning, but that's not necessary at the start. There's no need to empty the bulb entirely—less is more when you're beginning.
After filling, you may feel a strange, full sensation. To avoid discomfort, use warm (not hot) water. Hold the water for a few seconds, then gently release it into the toilet. Repeat until the water runs clear.
Why Do I Feel Ashamed of Bottoming?
You’ve likely been told bottoming makes you "the girl" or "more gay." Our misogynistic, patriarchal culture often shames feminised men, and men getting fucked is seen as the ultimate act of feminisation.
You might be struggling with self-acceptance, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of being "more gay" or even being gay at all.
First things first: there’s nothing wrong with being feminine or gay. Even if you don’t believe that now, give it time, and spend as much time as you can with other LGBTQ+ folks. We will support you.
Your sexual preferences say nothing about your social importance, power, masculinity, femininity, gender identity, attractiveness, desirability, or "worth."
It’s just sex.
Enjoy it.
Do what feels good.