am about to marry a caring and intelligent man, an amazing
lover, a total stud, beyond well endowed, someone who “gets”
me in a way.
Here’s the problem: I have a ferocious sex drive, to the point
where three to five times a day is good and more is better.
The beauty of our relationship is he has an appetite to match.
Despite my sublime satisfaction . . . I love toys. I like
them for when he’s gone on business and also to use with him.
This never seemed to be a big deal, but the other day he freaked
out and said he doesn’t want me to buy them anymore.
I feel like his request is totally off base. I’m 100-percent
monogamous and the idea of being with anyone else sickens
me, but a toy is a toy is a toy! Where is this coming from?
So you’re getting married, BAB, to an amazing man with a massive
How nice for you. How nice for everyone.
Just one little problem: He doesn’t want you to slap away
at yourself with sex toys. Actually, two little problems:
I also don’t give a shit. I’m sorry, BAB, but you’ve caught
me in a foul mood. I’m just not up for dropping everything
and crafting a response that offers you some insight into
your fiancé’s insecurities, goes on to emphasize that getting
married shouldn’t have to mean sacrificing your sexual autonomy
(unless that turns you on), before winding things up with
a stirring mini-sermon about the necessity of compromise in
any long-term relationship.
I just can’t be bothered today, BAB.
You see, state supreme courts in New York and Washington handed
down blatantly bigoted rulings against gay marriage in July
and I’m kind of pissed at the fact that you get to marry your
big-dicked boyfriend but I can’t marry mine. And it doesn’t
help that the decisions were so fucking stupid, either.
After decades of being told that gay people were unfit for
marriage because our relationships are unstable, the supremes
in New York ruled that marriage can be reserved solely for
straights because, really, it’s actually straight relationships
that are “all too often casual or temporary!” (Were they reading
my mail?) The supremes in Washington ruled that since only
straights have children then, by golly, only straights should
be allowed to marry! Gay couples and gay couples with kids?
Hey, fuck ’em! Straight people who are infertile, unwilling
to have kids, or too old to have kids? Hey, they get in on
Look, BAB, I hope the fiancé calms down about your toys, something
he might do if you give him some measure of control over them
(let him pick out toys for you; swear to use no toy that’s
bigger than his mighty dick), but that’s really the best I
can do for you this week. Sorry.
I’m a gay Roman Catholic. Some of my Catholic friends
are a bit awkward about it, but by and large it’s my non-Catholic
gay friends who have the biggest beef. As far as many of them
are concerned, the money I put into the collection basket
is going to some sort of Anti-Gay Civil Liberties Union. I
take my religion seriously, but I’m not a fundamentalist:
I don’t take something as gospel just because a man in a dress
in Rome says it is. Please remind people that many gay men
are deeply religious and happy about it. We don’t need our
fellow fags diagnosing us as secretly self-loathing, so much
as we need their support and respect.
can’t resent other gay men—saner gay men—for thinking that
you might take as gospel every morsel of crap that falls from
the thin lips of that “man in a dress in Rome,” GRC. The Catholic
Church has been busily “reimposing doctrinal discipline,”
as they say, ever since JPII plopped his clenched butt down
on the Throne of Peter. So while it’s nifty that you don’t
believe being Catholic means signing off on every idiot thing
the pope says, the head of your church disagrees with you.
And I’m sorry, GRC, but the money you put in the collection
plate does fund, in part, what amounts to an Anti-Gay Civil
Liberties Union. It’s only natural that your non-Catholic
gay friends would be curious about how you reconcile your
Catholicism with your Cocksuckism. If you want to get pissy
at anyone, GRC, get pissy at all those religious leaders,
whether they’re practicing Catholics or hell-bound heretics,
who have worked so hard to make religiosity and sexual freedom
seem like mutually exclusive phenomena.
Speaking of pissy Catholics: A couple of months ago I sent
a big chunk of ITMFA dough off to Bob Casey, the Democrat
running against Senator Rick “Frothy Mix” Santorum in Pennsylvania.
It was the maximum personal contribution—$2,100. That donation
didn’t sit well with some Savage Love readers, as Casey is
anti-choice. “Yes, yes: Bob Casey is opposed to abortion,”
I wrote back in June. “[But] electing one or two pro-life
Dems is the price we’re going to have to pay to put reliably
pro-choice Dems in positions of power all over the Senate.
So casting a vote for Casey, or sending a contribution to
Casey, is a pragmatic, progressive, pro-choice bank shot.”
Well guess what? Jake Perry, Casey’s campaign finance director,
called me last week with some bad news: Bob Casey was sending
my check back to me. Casey is worried that Santorum’s flying
monkeys will spot my name on his campaign-finance reports
and raise holy hell about it. Casey didn’t want to debate
the merits of the frothy mix—still the number-one result when
you Google “santorum”—with Senator Santorum, so he wasn’t
going to take my filthy money.
I’m miffed—wouldn’t you be?—but seeing as I’ve asked my overwhelmingly
pro-choice readers to be pragmatic, swallow hard, and support
Bob Casey, I’m going to be pragmatic myself, swallow harder,
and support Bob Casey whether he wants me to or not.
So what if Bob Casey doesn’t want to take my dirty money?
(Or I should say, so what if Bob Casey doesn’t want to be
seen taking my dirty money. Perry suggested names of some
independent groups in Pennsylvania working to elect Casey,
groups that might be willing to take my dirty money.) I still
want Casey to beat the lube-and-fecal-matter-splattered pants
off Santorum this November. That’s why I’m sending the $2,100
Casey spurned to Philadelphians Against Santorum. (For the
record: PAS is not one of the groups that the Casey camp suggested.)
Got some dough to spare? Help defeat Rick Santorum this November
by making a donation at www.phillyagainstsantorum.org.
In last week’s column you used the term Official Discussion,
or OD, to describe the conversation where a couple sits down
and discusses their couplehood. I’m writing to tell you that
a good term for that conversation already exists: DTR, which
stands for “define the relationship.” Usage: “I thought we
were just going to hang out, but then she turned it into a
DTR.” It can be a verb, too: “I need to DTR him and find out
This term is widespread at—are you ready for this?—Brigham
Young University. I was surprised when I moved away to discover
that the term isn’t widely used by everyone. It’s quite handy,
and surely it doesn’t only apply to young heterosexual Mormons.
agree, AAA: DTR is in every way superior to OD. Thanks for
bringing it to my attention.