Why do intelligent, caring men become strangers to their own bodies?

Everything I teach grows from trying to answer that question.

I’m a somatic sexologist. I live in Lisbon, Portugal with my two daughters.

I've spent years fascinated by the places people are taught to hide. What gets exiled in a body, in a marriage, in a man who's spent his whole life being told what he's for.

That fascination started early.

As a kid, my Barbies weren't princesses. They were reenacting real life.

I was obsessed with patterns, relationships, and the invisible rules people seemed to live by. I've always been drawn to the outsiders, the outliers, and the people who never quite fit the stories they were handed.

Years later, I found myself working with men around what they were already doing alone: the fantasies, the avatars they'd built to express parts of themselves that had nowhere else to go.

I was watching something real.

So I went and studied, to hold what I was seeing with integrity instead of just instinct.

That same question is still underneath everything I teach.

Sex is the surface. The actual material I work with is fluency: the ability to stay in relationship with your own experience while someone is alongside you. To feel. To receive. To tell the truth. To stay present without leaving your body.

When people have real agency over their own bodies, they cross fewer boundaries, not more. When pleasure is treated as a birthright instead of a transaction, people get kinder, not more reckless. Most of the harm we do to each other starts in a body that wasn’t allowed to feel anything at all.

I'm drawn to thresholds: the edge between thinking and feeling, performance and surrender, holding on and letting go. Most of what I teach happens right there in that middle ground.

I'm unshockable, for what it's worth.