The question “are you a top or a bottom?” is a common one in sex between men, so common that it often appears immediately in chats and dating apps (even before asking anything else about the person, unfortunately… but that’s an observation for another article).
At first glance, it seems like a practical shortcut to assess compatibility. However, for many people it also becomes a question about identity, self-perception, social status, and erotic psychology.
Top usually refers to the insertive role; bottom to the receptive role; versatile describes those who engage in both. So far, everything is straightforward. The point is that, in the real world, these roles often go beyond the mere mechanics of sex: they become a language to talk about polarity, identity, power, belonging, and image.
With this article, I want to address two key themes:
- While for many men the definition of an a priori “role” is seen as outdated or limiting—especially when tied to the heteronormative mechanics from which it originates—we must also respect the fact that for many people, a polarity based on a clear and stable role is desired, positive, and not perceived as limiting;
- We will also explore when, instead, the role becomes a mask (worn due to pressure, fear, or people-pleasing) and begins to generate friction with a person’s well-being. This friction, initially well-managed internally, can eventually lead a man to experience emptiness, sadness, and loneliness—states that should absolutely be avoided.
In Brief — Sexual Roles Between Men
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In sex between men, top and bottom originate as functional roles, but often become identity and social markers.
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For many people, polarity (clear roles, often implicitly including a dominant/submissive component) is desired, stable, and psychologically aligning.
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For others, freedom lies in role fluidity or versatility, where sex is experienced more spontaneously and with balanced exchange.
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The problem is not the roles themselves, but when they are adopted due to pressure, fear, or adaptation.
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Role shaming exists—especially toward the passive role—and becomes psychologically relevant when internalized.
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Mental coaching helps realign role, desire, and identity without imposing “correct” models.
Table of Contents
First distinction: orientation and behavior are not the same thing
In 2025, it is useful to remind those who are one or two generations behind: sex between men does not automatically mean “gay identity.”
Even in public health and clinical contexts (which are generally the most rigid), the term MSM (men who have sex with men) is often used precisely because it describes a behavior, regardless of identity labels. A person may identify as heterosexual and still have sexual relationships with men, for a wide variety of reasons.
If we turn the clock back to Ancient Greece, this distinction between heterosexual and homosexual was not even contemplated.
This distinction changes how we read the question “Top or bottom?”. In a sense, yes—because being “men” is not a common denominator that flattens differences between individuals. For some men, versatility feels obvious; for others, it feels entirely unnatural. And whether one perceives oneself as exclusively homosexual or not has a significant influence on this topic.
For some men, it is an identity component (“this is who I am”). For others, it is merely situational (“this is what I like when…”). Both positions are legitimate, as long as they remain coherent with what the person truly desires—and as long as they are not imposed on those who think differently.
Sexual roles and polarity: when “bipolar” is functional and desirable
In human erotic dynamics—in every culture, not only within the gay community—polarities have always existed: leader/follower, control/surrender, dominant/submissive, servant/served.
In some cases these polarities are lived playfully; in others they have a more marked and ritualized structure, as in consensual power exchange (dominance/submission), typical of many BDSM practices.
Here a clarification that is often ignored is essential: polarity does not equal abuse, and it does not even resemble it. When it is consensual, negotiated, reversible, and safe, polarity can be a form of psychological pleasure: it is necessary to think about kink, fetishes, and the diversity of one’s sexual landscape as a grammar of desire.
Many men seek sex between men precisely because it allows, more easily, certain configurations that elsewhere may be rare or more complex to negotiate: clear roles, rituals, erotic hierarchies, intensity of power, and “service” as a language of intimacy. This is neither “wrong” nor “inferior.” It is an erotic profile, and it is not even so “chosen”; it has to do with who we are—and part of who we are comes from where we come from, and how we have absorbed our socio-cultural landscape.
In other words: for some people, compartmentalization (top/bottom; dom/sub; leader/follower) is not a cage. It is home. It is very important to learn to respect both those who desire and seek these dynamics and those who seek total equality within a relationship.
Top and bottom are not synonyms for dominant and submissive
Starting from the premise that for many men polarity dynamics are not only desired but fully healthy, we can see how this instinctively leads to a recurring mistake: automatically overlapping:
- top = dominant
- bottom = submissive
In reality, these are different semantic levels. Even if they are often consequential to one another (for example within a typically patriarchal Western cultural framework), in and of themselves they indicate separate things.
Top/bottom describes a physical role (insertive/receptive).
Dominant/submissive describes a power dynamic (who leads, who yields control, who serves, who is served), which can exist even without a, so to speak, phallocentric approach.
It is in fact possible to be:
- bottom and dominant (“power bottom” or a receptive partner who guides pace, access, and intensity)
- top and submissive (insertive but oriented toward serving the partner)
- versatile on the physical level and polarized on the power level (switch, or roles that alternate depending on the scene)
This complexity is one of the reasons why reducing everything to “who is the man and who is the woman” is psychologically poor—beyond being, on a human level, insulting. Sex between men allows far more articulated combinations because, before being “sex between men,” it is sex between people.
The clinical point: when the role becomes identity (and when it shouldn’t)
A useful contribution comes from research on young gay and bisexual men: gender ideologies and social expectations can influence how people choose (or declare) sexual roles, and how they use them to give themselves a place in the world.
Here, however, we must avoid another trap: thinking that every role identity is “fake” or “imposed.” That’s not the case.
There are at least two healthy modes, and one that is certainly problematic:
Integrated role identity (chosen, stable, coherent)
The person feels that this role represents them and lives it naturally. They do not need to justify it or defend it. This is the case of men who, for as long as they can remember, feel pleasure and alignment in being primarily tops or primarily bottoms, also on a psychological level (dominance or surrender, service or guidance).
💡 Here “bipolarity” is not an imposition: it is a preferential axis that is part of the person.
Role as a flexible preference (non-identitarian)
The person does not want to define themselves through the role. They alternate, explore, or choose based on the partner and the context. This too can be completely healthy.
The problem emerges in a third mode:
Role as adaptation (people-pleasing, fear, status)
In this dynamic, the person assumes a role in order to:
- feel “more of a man” or “more desirable.”
- not lose the partner
- maintain an image (“I have to be the one who…”)
- avoid judgment
- avoid a sense of incoherence or losing self-esteem..
Here the role stops being genuine erotic expression and becomes a defensive strategy, a compromise, and in the long run, not feeling appreciated for who you are.
Conformity vs desire: the alignment thermometer
A practical question—one that reflects the pragmatic approach of Trans-Human Coaching®—is this: observe how you feel after having sex: does the role you lived recharge you or drain you?
It is important to take a moment and observe yourself, because if after sex you feel:
- centered
- full
- satisfied
- calm
- “clean” energy
it is likely that role and desire are aligned.
If instead you feel:
- irritation
- disappointment
- “psychic” fatigue
- detachment
- a sense of having done “the right thing,” yet feeling empty
it is possible that you are paying an adaptation cost.
Qualitative research shows that some men modulate roles to accommodate the partner or the relationship, and that this flexibility can be experienced as mutual care when it is chosen and balanced. But when flexibility is unilateral or unspoken, the same dynamic becomes draining.
Even more draining is the situation in which the role is not experienced as flexibility, but as necessity (“I have to do it this way,” “they want me this way,” “if I didn’t do it this way I wouldn’t be appreciated, chosen, or even loved…”).
Role shaming: when the community (or your mind) turns the role into stigma
Role shaming is the stigmatization of a sexual role, often in the form of bottom shaming. In recent literature it is described as shame and anxiety associated with the receptive role, with impacts on sexual wellbeing that unfortunately tend to emerge years later.
This can present itself in two ways (very often both are present, even if the first tends to condition the second):
External shaming
Derogatory phrases, exclusion, a tone of superiority, stereotypes (“tops only,” “no bottoms,” “real man,” “where have the real men gone,” “that one is a bottom,” etc.).
This is not a “role” problem: it is a relational culture problem. And very often, these comments are made precisely by those who are most afraid of living a free and complete sexuality.
Internalized shaming
Being exposed to this kind of culture during the phase of exploring one’s sexuality and the early stages of entering any community generates internalized shaming. Here the issue is more complex: the person desires a role but experiences it as proof of inferiority or failure, as demonstrated by the external shaming they have been exposed to. As a result:
- they hide it and sometimes live it only in secrecy (anonymous encounters, online profiles without pictures…)
- they compensate with a hyper-macho mask
- they live it with anxiety
- or they force themselves into the opposite role in order not to feel “deficient”
Attention: saying this does not mean denying the existence of men who are exclusively tops or exclusively bottoms. There are many other nuances, closer to reality. There are men who go through different phases of life, in which one desire and one source of pleasure is more predominant than another. In fact, we all come to understand that we are potentially bisexual, potentially versatile, and potentially anything our mind desires.
Therefore, there is the couple that lives the role without even thinking about it; the couple that instead loves to have specific roles only during sex; and there can also be a couple that is polarized (dominant/submissive) and at the same time deeply respectful, nurturing, and stable.
Shaming arises when polarity is used as a metric of human value, and it derives solely from fears that we ourselves have internalized.
What if I want rigid roles, service, and power? Is it “healthy”?
The clinically useful answer is not moral—it is structural: it is healthy when there is consent, negotiation, safety, and mutual benefit.
Many contemporary analyses of SSC BDSM and power exchange describe it as a field in which consent is central and the dynamic is defined by boundaries and agreements; in academic contexts, psychological motivations, emotional regulation, and the meanings of consent are also discussed.
Furthermore, the “top/bottom” distinction in BDSM does not always coincide with “dominant/submissive,” and the psychology of the role can be independent of daily life or identity: a person can be a leader at work and desire surrender and service in sex (or vice versa). This is not incoherence—it is a form of regulation, which I will gladly explore in another article.
So who is “versatile,” really?
The definition of versatile is very simple and straightforward:
- You are versatile when your pleasure naturally includes both roles, and you live them without identity friction.
- You are “adaptively versatile” when you change roles because you fear consequences (rejection, judgment, loss).
- You are “exploratory versatile” when you are exploring and want to understand where you truly stand.
Versatility is an excellent sign when it is chosen. It should be considered a dynamic to avoid only when it feels burdensome, when you feel unseen and unappreciated for who you feel you are, and when it represents a limitation rather than a tool of freedom.
Mental coaching: how to work on top/bottom without ideology
Let’s say you have recently (or, as often happens, for a long time) been experiencing a lack of harmony between what you do, how you feel, and who you feel you are. Let’s say you feel you already have many answers within you, but you still find yourself stuck in a situation that is consuming you. How does working with a Sex Coach function in this sense? How does the work unfold, and where does it lead?
The useful work usually unfolds through four key junctions:
1) Mapping real desire
Not “what you do,” but “what truly excites you.”
And above all: what excites you when you feel free, not when you feel observed.
2) Separating role and value
If the role is identity, that’s fine. If it is shame, it’s not.
The question is not “who is right?”, but “who are you when you stop defending yourself?”.
3) Adult communication and negotiation
Clear roles do not mean poor communication. On the contrary: the more intense the polarity, the more precision is required (boundaries, rituals, consent, aftercare).
4) Conscious choice of structure
Some people function better with stable roles; others with flexibility.
Coaching leads to an intentional choice: “this is my erotic structure, and I manage it with competence.”
Through these “pillars” of work, one arrives together at the choice and creation of practical strategies to begin exiting the state of stagnation, facing any obstacles together, and reclaiming one’s sexual identity.
Conclusions
The question “are you a top or a bottom?” is only a shortcut on the surface. Beneath it, it often speaks of identity, polarity, power, image, shame, and freedom.
For some men, clear role demarcation is desired and positive: a form of inner order, a natural erotic language, a stable psychological axis. For others, freedom lies in reversibility and open erotic communication between partners.
There is no universally superior model.
The only truly clinical discriminant is alignment between desire and behavior.
When a role is chosen, the body relaxes.
When a role is performed, sooner or later the mind presents the bill.
FAQs on Sexual Roles among men
Does being a bottom mean being less masculine?
In itself, no. A sexual role does not measure masculinity, strength, or personal value. It is an erotic preference, nothing more. However, for some people it is desirable to feel less masculine and more aligned with their femininity, also through the sexual role they express; likewise, many partners may specifically prefer experiencing their partner as more feminine, also in relation to their sexual role.
In other words, the real question is not whether a gesture or choice makes you more or less masculine; the question is: why does it matter to you? Why are you concerned about it? And what would actually be wrong with that?
Is it healthy to desire rigid and polarized roles?
Yes, if they are chosen, consensual, and aligned. Polarity can be a stable and positive erotic structure. Something becomes unhealthy when it prevents us from expressing affection, working toward our own wellbeing and that of our partner, or when we stop seeing potential partners as people and start treating them like an e-commerce catalog of disposable sexual roles and fantasies.
Are top and dominant the same thing?
For many people, yes—but not for everyone. Depending on cultural background, personal history, and erotic framework, the combinations and meanings can differ. There are also men who are exclusively tops but entirely submissive and oriented toward erotic surrender.
If I always adapt to my partner’s role, is that a problem?
It depends. If it is a mutual and temporary choice, no. If it is constant and one-sided, it can generate frustration.
Ideally, a person we choose to be intimate with should appreciate us exactly for who we are and what we express.
We are not life-support systems for other people’s fantasies and expectations.
What is bottom shaming?
It is the devaluation of the receptive role, often associated with stereotypes of inferiority or weakness. expresses a deep form of homophobia (externalized or internalized), and despite having no logical basis (how could sex between men exist without both polarities?), it profoundly conditions many people’s lives.
Can I be straight and still have sex with men?
Absolutely. Sexual behavior does not automatically coincide with sexual identity.
You are not first and foremost straight or gay—you are a person, and then a man. A man who does what he wants, with whom he wants, to the extent he wants, for his own reasons.
We are all different.
Why do some men avoid the role they truly desire?
First of all, the idea we have of others and how their lives actually unfold are two different things. Most men who publicly identify as tops also have receptive experiences, and most bottoms have had insertive ones as well. Generally, the role someone truly desires is hidden or avoided due to social pressure, fear of losing status, internalized shame, or the need to please.
How can I tell if my role truly represents me?
Observe two things:
– The aftermath: after sex, how do you feel? Centeredness and fullness indicate alignment; emptiness and irritation more often indicate adaptation.
– Think about when you give yourself pleasure: what mental state accompanies you during arousal? What images and dynamics emerge and liberate you in that moment? Then ask yourself: is this aligned with the sexual role you are living?
How does mental coaching help with these topics?
It helps distinguish authentic desire from conditioning, improves communication (both with partners and within your inner dialogue), and addresses the fears that keep you stuck in a stagnant situation that, clearly, has started to feel too tight.
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