July 16, 2008
I am a 23-year-old woman living with my
25-year-old boyfriend. We have been dating for a little over a year, and for
the majority of that time, we had a great sex life. Unfortunately, when we
decided to move in together, we also decided to stop having intercourse until
we decide to get married. We made this choice with a couple factors in mind: 1)
lots of pressure from religious parents who urged us not to engage in
premarital sex, and 2) we aren't ready to risk having a kid.
We are not engaged yet because we want to live
together for a while to make sure we both want a lifelong commitment. Our
relationship is still thriving, and if we do get married, we already know that
we are sexually compatible. The problem is that every time he instigates a
session of fooling around in non-intercourse ways (which we still do) I am not
turned on. I know whatever we do is not going to end in sex. He has no idea I'm
not interested, because I focus all my attention on getting him off. I enjoy
that, but I know he would love to pleasure me as well. What do you suggest?
No Sex For Us
I've written columns stoned, I've written columns
hammered, and I've written columns on prescription medications—not
necessarily prescribed to me—that impaired my ability to operate heavy
machinery. And you know, my laptop is so old that it probably qualifies as
heavy machinery. But I've never written a column after three straight nights of
brain-killing insomnia.
So welcome to a very special, sleep-deprived
episode of Savage Love, and I apologize in advance if the advice you're about to
receive is suckier than the stoned, hammered, heavily-medicated crap that made
this column great.
Okay, NSFU, I've got a few suggestions.
First, grow the fuck up. You guys are 23 and 25,
not 13 and 15, which means you get to make up your own minds about premarital
sex. Seeing as you two were engaging in premarital sex before you moved in
together, it's a whole lot of ridiculous to cave to the delicate sensibilities
of your religious parents now. After all, kids, the same vengeful,
sex-obsessed, entirely fictitious God who disapproves of premarital sex also
disapproves of any and all "non-intercourse ways" of getting your boyfriend
off. Spilling his seed is a sin, too, NSFU, whether you're helping him spill on
the ground or on your tonsils.
Second, birth control works. If you're not willing to
assume the teeny, tiny risk of getting pregnant now that you're living
together, NSFU, why were you willing to risk it when you hardly knew each
other? Take the pill, use condoms, and if you really want to be paranoid about
it, have the boyfriend pull his condom-wrapped cock out of your non-ovulating
twat after
you've come but before he does, which will reduce your risk of an unplanned
pregnancy to so close to zero that zero will feel like it's being stalked. Or
something.
Finally, open your mouth. This
arrangement—no vaginal intercourse for discontented you, plenty of oral
and handjobs for thoroughly contented him—works for the boyfriend, NSFU,
but it's making you miserable. Tell him you want to renegotiate terms. You stop
worrying about what your parents think and stop inflating your fear of
pregnancy and get back to your old intercoursin' ways—which you don't
have to tell the parents about—or he's going to have to buy a strap-on
dildo and fuck you with that before you'll even think about touching his dick
again.
I'm a 19-year-old gay boy, and while I have
tried dating guys my own age, I realized a long time ago that I am far more
interested (romantically and sexually) in older men. I understand, though, that
many older men out there looking for a guy my age may not have the best of
intentions. Do you have any tips for someone in my situation?
Timid Whelp In Needa Knowledge
Gay men in their 30s and 40s who will date teenage
boys are almost always scum, TWINK, as you've surmised. But gay guys in their
30s and 40s who will date 23-year-olds? Some are scum, of course, because some
of everyone is scum, but the scum makes up a far smaller percentage of the
total. And these non-scummy older men are much more likely to be interested in
a 23-year-old who has his shit together.
So I would advise you to skip the older guys
who'll date you now and go and get your shit together. Get your ass into a
decent college, fuck the odd TA (and they're all odd) to earn a little
dating-and-mating wisdom, and then, after you graduate, take your gathered
figurative shit to a big city where you'll meet plenty of attractive, older men
interested in, um, packing your literal shit.
Oh, and all the angry middle-aged gay men out
there who "date" teenage boys and don't regard themselves as scum: Spare me the
angry e-mails, fellas. I didn't say that you're all scum, guys, I wrote that
you're "almost
always scum." Unfortunately, scum never thinks it's scum, which can make it
difficult to tell the scummy ones and non-scummy ones apart, particularly for
young and inexperienced guys.
My boyfriend and I met nearly three years ago
when I was a call girl and he was a guy who wanted to be pegged (a big, big
part of my business). We became friends, then partners, and now we've been
together for three years. We share a home and we're bringing up my 7-year-old
son together. It's the best relationship I've ever been in—he's loving,
communicative, patient, supportive, and WAY fun sexually. His dad told me
recently that he's never seen his son so happy. He's got a good job, and in
addition to being a stay-at-home mom, I occasionally see my old regulars. In
fact, we've done a few calls together, for trusted clients who wanted to
experience a threesome.
My question is, how common is it for
prostitutes and clients to end up together? Of course the business is full of
pitfalls, and is not for the timid or directionless, but human beings in
proximity do tend to fall in love given the chance… or are we just an anomaly?
Lucky In Love
Sex workers and clients do occasionally fall in
love (check out the wonderful memoir Concertina by Susan Winemaker), so it does
happen, LIL. But it happens so rarely that I was reluctant to print your
letter, as it will give countless johns false hope. But I'm sleep-deprived, so
here it is. Congrats on finding the love of (fingers crossed) your life, LIL.
Here's an ultra-vanilla one for you: It's been
about eight months since I was dumped, and every day, I still think about the
girl who broke my heart. I don't speak to her and don't want to. How do you get
over a breakup?
Tired Of Her
Sometimes a cliché is all I've got: Time heals all
wounds—time and, of course, fucking other people. Did you know that every
ounce of another woman's saliva that you swallow, TOH, shaves a week off the
healing process? It's a true and totally scientific fact. I distinctly remember
reading it in the Science section of The New York Times this morning.
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