was a letter in your column recently that must have been painful
for you to receive. I refer to the letter signed God Hates
You. I’m sure you’re no stranger to hate mail, being an openly
gay sex-advice columnist, but I hope you get fan mail too.
But just in case: I wanted you to know that your column means
a lot to me, and I love your bluntness, openness, and honesty.
It is comforting to see a pragmatic, funny, and, for the most
part, compassionate voice in print nowadays, especially when
it comes to something that so many are as willfully ignorant
about as sex.
Do Good Work
lot of people wrote in after reading GHY’s letter. Most wanted
to reassure me that God does not, in fact, hate me. And most,
like YDGW here, assumed that GHY’s letter must have hurt my
feelings. I want to thank everyone for your kind words—and
I mean that sincerely—but someone telling me that God hates
me is about as hurtful as someone telling that the Blue Fairy
thinks I look fat in these jeans. (“Really? She does? Thanks,
I really needed to hear that—now I’m gonna go sit on the other
side of the subway car and silently ask the Blue Fairy for
fashion guidance, OK?”)
As for fan mail, YDGW, I get my fair share. But I don’t typically
run fan letters because I’ve found better ways to pleasure
myself. I am, however, going to make an exception this week
and run a few letters from satisfied Savage Love customers.
Not because I like having sunshine blown up my ass—I prefer
to have other things blown up my ass, thanks—but because we
know GHY is out there reading, and I’m thinking letters from
people who’ve found my advice useful will annoy him way more
than letters from people who wanted to let me know that God
loves me. So this one’s for you, GHY . . .
I am a 21-year-old straight girl, and I wanted to thank
you. Reading your column and listening to your podcast over
the years has made my sex and love life so much better than
it ever could have been without your fantastic advice. It
gave me the courage to tell my partner about my interest in
BDSM and to be really GGG when he shared his fantasies with
me. I’ve recommended your column and podcast to friends having
relationship and sex troubles, and they all come back to tell
me how much your advice helped them. I wanted to thank you
on behalf of shy girls everywhere who secretly want to be
tied up and spanked.
owe you a thank-you. Since I began reading your column over
a year ago, I have realized my sexual desires are not perverse
(and if they are, certainly nothing to be ashamed of) and
began talking with my girlfriend about experimenting with
them. As such, the two of us have moved on from anal-sex toys
and are now about to embark on full-on pegging. She’s as excited
about it as I am, and we wouldn’t have gotten to such a level
of sexual satisfaction if not for the work you do. I’ll be
thinking of you while my girlfriend bangs my hot ass!
for your advice about the “death grip” and the damage males
can do when they grip themselves too tightly while masturbating.
I had that problem: At age 48, a lifetime of death grip left
me incapable of coming during regular intercourse. I have
never had an orgasm with a partner from intercourse or oral
or anal sex (my orientation is hetero). I carefully followed
your advice and lightened my touch and started using my left
hand (I’m right-handed) to provide the lighter stimulation
that you advised. Any time I was tempted to revert to the
death grip, I squeezed my thumb and index finger together,
forming a ring without contracting it. This managed to fool
my death-grip conditioning without increasing the pressure
on my penis. It took a while, but now I’m able to come from
lighter stimulation! Thank you!
Orgasms Beat Odds
started reading your column toward the end of my sophomore
year of high school, which was about a year after I started
hooking up with girls. I was immediately drawn to it because
your “moral code” is based on common sense. That, and it was
about sex and I was a sophomore.
I tend to be insecure, and I tend to tell the wrong joke at
the wrong time. The one area in my life where I’m not insecure,
however, is in the bedroom, and it’s almost entirely thanks
to your column. I’ll kick myself repeatedly for saying the
wrong thing to a girl, but if I don’t perform to the best
of my abilities one night, I can let it go. I’ve learned what
my boundaries are and how to push them. I knew that not being
100 percent straight doesn’t make you bi or gay, so there
was no identity crisis when I questioned my sexuality. Most
importantly, I know how to ask and I know how to give.
Thanks, Dan. If politicians want to get serious about reducing
the amount of abortions, teenage pregnancies, and divorces
in this country, they should hire you to draw up a national
you for saying some kind words about “conveniently located
and economically priced sex workers” in your column. I agree
that they deserve more gratitude and respect. In my case,
I am a successful, decent-looking professional and a widower
with three kids. I don’t have any trouble getting dates. However,
in my experience, dates either turn into relationships that
I don’t have time for or long conversations that I don’t have
time for about how I don’t have time for a relationship. So
once every couple months or so, I see a professional. I don’t
have to feel bad that I may not see her again, and I don’t
get accused of misleading anyone. I would like to tell your
readers that they shouldn’t feel bad if they are seeing pros.
They should enjoy it for what it is, which is a great time
with a pretty girl and well worth the money.
had been reading your column for years, and each time you
told someone to DTMFA—dump the motherfucker already!—I wondered
why the people sending those sad letters needed your advice
at all. Couldn’t they see that they were miserable? Then one
day I had an epiphany and realized, while reading your column,
that I could have authored one of those DTMFA letters.
It’s now three years since I dumped the motherfucker. I got
a transfer within my company and started over in a new city.
It was overwhelming. But this weekend, I was lying in bed
with my new boyfriend and I was thinking about my life. It
is so nice to have someone who isn’t horrified that I like
porn, someone who listens to my fantasies and likes to try
new things. Someone who appreciates my cooking, doesn’t pout
when I beat him at video games, and tells me I’m beautiful.
I want to thank you. I was in denial, and your column was
my wake-up call. I’m happier now than I ever thought possible.
Lady In Toronto
welcome, one and all. Next week, back to the screaming, yelling,
recriminations, freaks, fetishes, and fuckwits.
a new Savage Love podcast every Tuesday at www.thestranger.com/savage.