This story originally appeared on September 4, 2025 in URBANIA, an online magazine based in Quebec focused on pop culture and society.

The author is a sexologist. For even more informed advice, visit her Instagram account and her blog, La Tête dans le cul.

Recently, the sexology duo of the moment, Apéro Sexo, announced their separation, blaming it on two different visions of how sexological knowledge should be passed on. Since Quebec’s sexology world is very small, it didn’t take much for this to spark reactions from many people, myself included.

First, I want to say that I appreciate the duo’s work and that I’ve always wondered how they managed to separate their work in sex education from their private lives. For sexologists like me, talking about ourselves is an extremely delicate subject. And yet, the idea of drawing on personal anecdotes and experiential knowledge to discuss sexology is brilliant. But it’s also very slippery terrain.

Let me explain my perspective.*

Sexologist or Sexuality Professional?

First, let’s clear something up: yes, there is an important difference between sexologists and sexuality professionals. People who call themselves sexologists must be members of the OPSQ (Ordre des sexologues du Québec) and pay an annual fee in order to use this protected title. They must also complete continuing education (30 hours over a two-year period**) and follow a code of ethics.

Sexuality professionals often—but not always—have a bachelor’s degree in sexology, and they are not subject to the same obligations as sexologists in terms of training and rules. Are they less competent? Not at all! But it’s important to understand that anyone can use that title, which unfortunately can include people with less-than-good intentions or agendas that aren’t necessarily altruistic. (Life coaches who want to sell you a thousand and one things to “reach your full potential,” even though you neither need them nor can afford them? That drives me up the wall.)

The term “professional” can also be confusing.

Not all professionals are governed by a professional order, but when one exists—like the OPSQ—you might reasonably expect the title to come with regulation.

That’s the case for the title “sexologist,” but not for “professional.”

Does this create confusion for the public? Probably.

The framework is your best friend

Imagine a circle. This is the space dedicated to the clinical encounter between a sexologist and a client. When you enter this circle, each person assumes a role: on one side, the therapist; on the other, the person seeking help. This is called the “therapeutic framework,” and for it to work, there must be rules:

The discussion revolves solely around the issues and challenges of the person seeking help, not those of the therapist.

People come in suffering; we must offer them a safe space to open up. They need to be able to occupy the space they are paying for in order to express their emotions, experiences, and pain. If the helping professional takes up that space, the point is lost. This is not our therapy—it’s yours.

Therapeutic exchanges take place within this framework, not elsewhere.

Private office or online, it doesn’t matter; what matters is that there is a specific time and space devoted to this. Even email or phone exchanges must remain strictly professional. No consultations via social media platforms, either. Just think for a second about what could happen if this weren’t all clearly defined. Being contacted at all hours of the day or night? Being stopped at the grocery store for advice? Receiving detailed disclosures via Instagram? No, thank you. And it goes both ways: would you like your therapist to greet you at the neighbourhood café by saying, “So, how’s your libido?” That would seriously breach professional confidentiality.

This is not a friendship.

That can be hard to grasp, because your therapist often knows much more about you than your loved ones do. But for a therapeutic relationship to work, boundaries must be established. Do we sometimes meet people with whom we feel we could become friends, date, or fall in love? Of course! But distance is NECESSARY in order to remain in a professional relationship and avoid comparisons and projections.

The therapeutic relationship aims to be as neutral as possible to avoid transference and countertransference dynamics.

Transference occurs when a client projects emotions or feelings onto the therapist that they experience toward someone in their present life or past. Countertransference is the therapist’s reaction to that transference. An example? A client sees parallels between their mother and their therapist and begins reacting strongly during sessions, taking everything as criticism—just like in their real relationship with their mother. The therapist, uncomfortable with the client’s reactions, becomes distant and less engaged. Result: the therapeutic relationship is damaged. Another classic example of transference: a client falling in love with their therapist. Note that this can happen even without therapist self-disclosure—but you can understand how self-disclosure may increase the risk.

Which brings us to the next point.

The delicate question of self-disclosure

Sometimes it seems as though sexologists have an aura, a sexual glow that clings to them because they’ve chosen to work with human sexuality as their primary subject. People often assume they’re super open to discussing sex anywhere, anytime, and in any way—but no. Just because we’re trained to assess human sexual development and behaviour doesn’t mean we want to talk about it all the time, or even talk about our own.

As a sexologist, can I talk about my own experiences? Yes—but it’s delicate. First, you have to be able to justify why you’re doing it. Self-disclosure can be an excellent clinical tool; it can make therapy feel more human, help build trust, and, in some cases, strengthen the therapeutic alliance.

Before disclosing, you have to reflect, weigh the pros and cons, and ask what the benefits are for the client.

Here are a few examples***:

Telling a person with anorgasmia that it can be resolved because the therapist has been through it herself also means explaining how and why. But imagine if it doesn’t work for the client and they come back saying, “You told me it worked for you!” Ouch.
Disclosing one’s sexual orientation to a person seeking an LGBTQ+ therapist in order to feel better understood can help strengthen trust and support services “by and for” (for example, trans people working with trans clients). Saying it just because the therapist wants to bond with a client who has simply identified as LGBTQ+ is not necessarily useful.
To reassure a person struggling with body image issues, especially related to weight, saying, “I think people with curves are beautiful!” First, that can create ambiguity (does the therapist find me attractive?), and second, it reveals personal preferences that don’t need to be stated. It’s better to work with elements the person can actually use, such as their partner. For example: “You told me recently that your partner finds you sexy. Have you ever asked them what they like about you? Could you suggest that they tell you more often?”

Remember that as sexologists, we meet all kinds of people—often shaken, fragile, and vulnerable.

Even though it can be tempting to open up in order to help (and believe me, it happens!), it’s better to be cautious and maintain a strict framework that can gradually loosen as the therapeutic relationship develops.

In short, and as I’ve already mentioned in my personal newsletter, if your therapist sometimes seems rigid or strict, that’s a good thing: we’re looking out for your well-being—and ours—to help you as effectively as possible.

So, if you meet me in my virtual office, know that I will never talk to you about my sex life. Not only does it belong to me, but it wouldn’t serve you. Because what matters most to me during those moments is not sharing my own experiences, but better understanding yours—and ensuring that I help you with rigour and professionalism.

* I do not speak on behalf of all sexologists. Self-disclosure is a topic that could be debated at length.

** To give you an idea of how much there is to learn to stay up to date, I’m already at 55 hours of training and my two-year period isn’t even over yet. Being part of a private clinic, as I am, helps a lot. And I’m someone who loves continuing education—it really matters to me. Call me intense; that’s also me! 💁‍♀️

*** These are hypothetical examples that could have been much more developed in a therapeutic session, but they give you an idea.

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Sexologist or Sexuality Professional?

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Myriam Daguzan Bernier

Why sexologists don’t talk to you about their sex lives