Back to Metroland's Home Page!
 Classifieds
   View Classified Ads
   Place a Classified Ad
 Personals
   Online Personals
   Place A Print Ad
 Columns & Opinions
   The Simple Life
   Comment
   Looking Up
   Reckonings
   Opinion
   Myth America
   Letters
   Rapp On This
 News & Features
   Newsfront
   Features
   What a Week
   Loose Ends
 Dining
   This Week's Review
   The Dining Guide
   Leftovers
 Cinema & Video
   Weekly Reviews
   The Movie Schedule
 Music
   Listen Here
   Live
   Recordings
   Noteworthy
 Arts
   Theater
   Dance
   Art
   Classical
   Books
   Art Murmur
 Calendar
   Night & Day
   Event Listings
 AccuWeather
 About Metroland
   Where We Are
   Who We Are
   What We Do
   Work For Us
   Place An Ad

Hey, Everybody: By now you’ve no doubt heard the news that America’s favorite crystal-meth-snorting, male-escort-blowing evangelical Christian pastor is cured! While 99.9 percent of wannabe ex-gays struggle to overcome their homosexuality for decades, Ted Haggard was pronounced “completely heterosexual” after just 21 days of counseling! Don’t you just love a happy ending?

I’d love to devote a whole column to Haggard—there’s just so much to process. For instance, according to the ministers overseeing Haggard’s treatment, Ted was able to “discover” his complete heterosexuality so quickly because his homosexual activity was never “constant.” By that standard I’ve been completely heterosexual since, gee, about 10 minutes after 2 this morning.

Yippee! I’m completely heterosexual, too! And as everyone knows, once you’re completely heterosexual all your troubles are over. Just ask San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom.

But that’s all the space I can waste on that yam-faced faggot. Because it’s Valentine’s Day—or it just was, depending on when you’re reading this—and to counter the impression that fetishes and impulsive hookups always lead to conflict and heartache, I asked vanilla types contentedly partnered with kinky motherfuckers and vice versa, along with anyone who ever took a chance on an anonymous piece of ass and wound up marrying it, to send me their happy-endings stories. In honor of Ted Haggard, this week’s happy endings are completely heterosexual. Happy Valentine’s Day.

I met an awesome guy by taking a chance and asking a complete stranger for his phone number. After three weeks of dating Mr. Perfect, we had the sex conversation. I’ve always been GGG, but I had limits: no piss, poop, blood, kids, or animals. Then I found out Mr. Perfect likes to pee his pants and wanted me to do it with him. I gave it some thought, decided it was harmless, and that I was willing to try it. It’s taken some getting used to, but I’m actually starting to enjoy peeing my pants. More importantly, I get off on the fact that he gets off on it so much. It’s been seven months and we are still completely retarded for each other.

—Pee Is Sorta Sexy

I’m a straight male crossdressing sissy and even though it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, I told my wife about it before we had a lot invested in the relationship. We’ve been together five years and I never imagined being this happy. I blog about our life at sweatshopsissy.wordpress.com

Sweat Shop Sissy

I was a stripper who spent an awful lot of time trying to make the other girls understand that the man of their dreams was not going to be tucking dollar bills into their G-strings at the club. Then one night I was on stage, boobs in the breeze, when this guy walked in. I froze. When I recovered enough to finish my set, I went and bought the guy a drink. Wow, he was actually nice—and smart and funny! And hot! He bought a VIP dance and I actually came just dancing for him. I refused to go out with him out of sheer terror of the chemistry, but he hung in there—despite his friends telling him the girl of his dreams was not hanging upside down topless from a brass pole! We went on our first date two months later, much to the amusement of my cohorts, who took great glee in taunting me. We married two years later. Our sixth wedding anniversary was in January.

Long Odds Paid Off

I was on the anal-sex channel on IRC, telling everyone about the webcam I had set up at work to watch over the crack alley across the street. This woman immediately messaged me and asked, “You work at —, don’t you? I used to work there, too! I know that crack alley!”

She invited me out to a bar across the street and we started dating shortly after that. Well, it turned out that not only was she into anal sex, but pegging as well. We’ve been the very model of what it means to be GGG. I introduced her to BDSM; she introduced me to group sex. We’ve been married for three years now and had our first kid on Dec. 3.

We Owe It All To Crack Alley

This is the true confession of a vanilla girl (VG) who took a chance on a kinky boy (KB).

I was a shy, 18-year-old virgin. KB was wise enough to let out his kinky side a little at a time, starting with new positions. (I actually thought missionary was the only physically possible way to have sex.) Over three years, he revealed a laundry list of kinks: BDSM, swinging, anal, earning money by homosexual favors, and three- (or more) ways. Each revelation left me wondering what I was getting into, but I always jumped in and never had any regrets. We eventually got married over the protests of everyone we knew.

Seventeen years later, we are proud parents and still very much in love. While writing this, I asked KB why he took a chance on a VG. I had always assumed he enjoyed corrupting my innocence. But he said that I was a steadying force in his wild life, and that he would have died young doing something too risky if he didn’t find a way to settle down. Call me crazy, but I find his answer romantic.

Vanilla Girl Loves Kinky Boy

I’m a girl in my mid-20s. Over the course of a few years, I’ve succeeded in turning a thoroughly vanilla guy into a spankophile who’s happy to tie me up, crop me, pull my hair, and order me around. He’s not a real sadist, he says, but it turns him on to see me so turned on. What a sweetheart! We’ve even seen a couple of professional mistresses together so that he could learn a few tricks. Yum. And my last two presents from him were a paddle and an engagement ring.

Ode To Kink

I’m a mostly het white boy, she was a fundamentalist Christian. When we first met, she was still “no sex till marriage” and trying to save me. Maybe it was the repression of her upbringing, but damn that girl was willing! We tried role-play, toys in abundance, cock rings, hardcore porn, ATM, sex in public. We even did a couple of group scenes. I loved sitting next to her in church singing the praises of Jebus after a wild Saturday night.

The happy ending? Five years on, she’s happily married to a nice Christian boy with a kid on the way, and we’re still friends.

Happy Christian Corrupter

Okay, those were the straight happy endings—the ones I could fit in the column. There are tons more at www.thestranger.com/savage/heterohappyendings. In next week’s Savage Love, shitloads of completely queer happy endings, also in honor of Ted Haggard.

 

mail@savagelove.net


Send A Letter to Our Editor
Back Home
   
 
 
Copyright © 2002 Lou Communications, Inc., 419 Madison Ave., Albany, NY 12210. All rights reserved.