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Savage Love

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Confidential to Looking for Ideas:

You're doing that dumb straight thing: you're thinking of "sex" as penis/vagina intercourse and everything else as foreplay. If you want to make things "last," or a little more interesting, start thinking of those "foreplay" techniques as "during-" and "after-" play techniques as well. Challenge yourselves: Rule out "crawling up on top of him" and see if, perhaps, some artificially imposed limitations don't spark a little creativity on both your parts. If push does not always come to shove, maybe you'll think of something more exciting to do than fuck.

Confidential to Cautiously Enthusiastic:

Well, it depends. He may be seriously interested in realizing the situations he's describing to you during your phone sex sessions, or he may be trying to wow you with the inventive outrageousness of his fantasy life. If you want to know for sure, you'll have to ask him about it. As for the "general issue" of truthfulness in phone sex, phone phuckers only need to be truthful with people they intend to eventually meet. Otherwise, anything goes.

Confidential to Fire Hydrant:

She can't make you pee on her, or in her, if you don't wanna. Just say no. While her desires are freaky, they're not all that unhealthy: urine is sterile--it ain't gonna hurt her. Or you, chickenshit.

Confidential to Looking for a Miracle:

Don't be such a fucking idiot. There's nothing more pathetic, more cliched, and more boring than a breeder pest who refuses to take "queer" for an answer. You are not going to make him straight, the "miracle" ain't gonna happen, and you'd best reconcile yourself to the harsh reality that that's his sexual orientation. He likes boys. You're a girl. Give it up.

Confidential to SR:

Gee, bummer. But you're not the first person in the world who's ever been dumped. Though the circumstances in your case were particularly cruel, there's a limit to the amount of self-pity a person can wallow in before she finds her friends dumping her too. Snap yourself out of it, go have a few cheap meaninglesses, and swear, with God as your witness, that you will never go hungry again, etc.

Confidential to Been There in NYC:

I come across as unsympathetic because I have no sympathy for fucked-up 22-year-old closet cases. None. Occupational hazard.

Confidential to JJ:

Shy, inexperienced girls don't hang around in singles clubs. Your desire to be with girls less experienced than yourself isn't going to get you far. Most women your age have some experience, and the ones who don't aren't likely to identify themselves as such in a crowded singles bar. You're more likely to meet someone who fits your specs at school or through friends than in a club.

Confidential to Leslie C:

Get your hands on the gay newspaper of whatever major urban center is nearest you. Look in the classifieds or community organization listings for bisexual support groups or bisexual social organizations. If after attending a few meetings your bi desires are still intact, consider taking out a personal ad or making a play for one of the other single, middle-aged bi women in your support group. Three years is a long time, a very long time, so I suggest you get cracking.

Confidential to CBT:

What you're asking him to do is extremely dangerous, and, while the risk is primarily yours, his comfort level has to be taken into consideration. Suppose he attempts what you're asking but fails. Suppose you die; suppose the jury won't take "consensual extreme sex play" for an answer; and suppose he goes to prison for a very long time. That's probably what he's supposin'. Yes, our lovers should be considerate about indulging our fantasies within reason, but your fantasies are extreme to the point of being unreasonable. Your boyfriend is not obligated to risk your life and the rest of his life getting you off.

Confidential to AH:

It isn't up to you, is it?

Confidential to Sweet on 17:

You're a bright girl--don't sell yourself short. At the very least he's obligated to sit and listen to you tell him how you feel about (1) it and (2) him. He may have already deduced that you "have the hots for him," as you're presently fucking him. Whether or not unloading your true feelings will scare him off, thus depriving you of further cracks at his gloriously firm rear end, is anyone's guess. If you're seriously worried about "losing touching privileges," impress upon him that, however crushed out you may be, you're willing to bang his brains out regardless of his feelings for you.

Confidential to Maria:

Yes, I am. What else would I be? For someone who "reads [my] column every fuckin' week," you're not awfully bright. I like big teeth because of the way they look, not the way they feel.

Confidential to AR:

Yes, it is as big around as that coffee cup. Why do you ask?

Confidential to Fill 'Em Up!:

Gee, I don't know where a 23-year-old gay man living in a major urban center could've acquired the erroneous notion that any "major health risks" are involved with unprotected anal sex. Not a day goes by that I don't let nine or ten men "plant their seed" in my ass, and I'm healthy as a horse. By all means, go right ahead.

Confidential to Fox and Brenner:

Once you've filled a bottle, keep the stuff refrigerated pretty close to freezing until you, um, need it. It should keep for a few days. If it congeals or separates, a few brisk strokes with a wire whisk should do the trick. As for bugs: viruses and microbes and bacteria and the rest of the venereal menagerie don't do well out-of-body and are unlikely to survive the bottling process. But just to be on the safe side, before drinking bring the stuff to either room temperature or a bug-killing rapid boil (don't put metal in your microwave!).

Unfortunately, heating three-day-old pussy juice will probably cause it to stink, making it rather difficult to knock a few back with anything close to "seductive" expressions on your faces. So why not boil the stuff down--"reducing" is, I believe, the proper Joy of Cooking terminology--then add a few drops of the concentrated pussy juice to, say, a bottle of vodka? Can't you just see the ad campaign: a bottle-shaped vaginal cavity and the words "Absolutely Disgusting" underneath. (Please note: "Disgusting" refers to the idea of drinking vodka flavored with reduced pussy juice, not to vaginas. Vaginas are not disgusting; vaginas are lovely, absolutely lovely.) Then you can drink of one another's essences comforted by the knowledge that the alcohol in the hooch will kill off any bugs that made their way over from the girlfriend's cooch.

Send questions to Savage Love, Chicago Reader, 11 E. Illinois, Chicago 60611.

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