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My
boyfriend and I have agreed to abide by whatever decision
you make. We’ve been together for nine months. We are gay.
We live in a college town. We both found jobs here after we
graduated, so we stayed. Since his sophomore year, my boyfriend
has had an “arrangement” with an older man, a professor at
the university. Did I say older? I meant old. We are in our
mid 20s; this man is in his late 60s. The old man comes to
my boyfriend’s apartment once a week and cleans it. Does his
laundry. Washes his dishes. He actually pays my boyfriend
for the privilege. It’s not much, $50, and the old perv says
it’s for my boyfriend’s “time,” since a part of their deal
is that my boyfriend has to be in the apartment while the
old perv cleans it. He’s particularly pervy about how he cleans
my boyfriend’s bathroom. Dan, the old perv cleans my boyfriend’s
toilet bowl with his own toothbrush, which he then uses to
brush his teeth the rest of the week!
There is no sex. (Presumably, the old perv goes home and beats
off after cleaning my boyfriend’s apartment.) None of this
would matter if my boyfriend and I weren’t talking about moving
in together. I want this “arrangement” to stop. I don’t feel
comfortable using a toilet that a man old enough to be my
grandfather cleaned with his toothbrush. This has been going
on for six years—the old perv has been cleaning up after my
boyfriend since he was living in student housing. My boyfriend
says he likes the clean apartment more than he needs the money
(and that’s true, now that he’s no longer a starving student).
But I say all good things must come to an end, and if I’m
moving in, we’ll have to clean up after ourselves or pay a
real cleaning lady to come around once a week, like regular
people.
We agreed to leave it up to you. Dan: The old perv stays?
The old perv goes?
—Toothbrushes
Are For Teeth
The
old perv stays.
By allowing this man to clean his apartment, TAFT, your boyfriend
is making an old perv very, very happy, and that makes the
world a more joyful place generally (and your boyfriend’s
apartment a tidier place particularly). Your boyfriend isn’t
taking advantage of the old perv—$50 is a much more reasonable
fee than most sex workers would charge for the same service
(yes, your boyfriend is doing very low-level sex work)—and
while the toothbrush/toilet thing is a bit . . . creepy
. . . and unsanitary . . . I’m sure you’ll get used
to it and/or be able to put it out of your mind. (Although
I’d be giving the toilet an additional wipe-down if anyone—young,
old, hot, not—were cleaning it for me with a ratty old toothbrush.)
Let’s recognize this arrangement for what it really is: a
successful long-term relationship. How many relationships—gay
or straight, monogamous or open, where toilets are scrubbed
weekly with toothbrushes or cleaned sporadically with toilet
brushes—last six years! Sorry, TAFT, but I’m constitutionally
disinclined to dissolve a successful six-year relationship
in favor of a relationship that has yet to reach the one-year
mark.
And I think you knew, TAFT. I think you knew I would side
with the perv—was there ever any question?—which leads me
to believe that you’re secretly OK with this arrangement and
an extra $50 a week to put toward household expenses, money
that you can invest in cases of Clorox Wipes. You wanted a
little plausible deniability, a way for the arrangement to
continue without having to give it your blessing, and needed
some cover. And now you have it, TAFT.
I’m in a friends-with-benefits arrangement with a woman
I get along with really well, and I am interested in a real
relationship. I know she’s open to it, but there’s one thing
holding me back: She’s overweight. And while it doesn’t matter
to me, it restricts what’s possible in bed. Do I talk to her
about it? If so, how?
—Some
Dude
If
this woman’s weight didn’t interfere with a friends-with-benefits
arrangement—a purely sexual bargain—why would her weight and
the limitations it places on what’s possible in bed factor
into your decision to take this relationship “to the next
level,” as the life coaches/douchefags like to say? Don’t
make the mistake of assuming the choice you face is one between
some hypothetical skinny bitch with no restrictions and this
big woman who comes with some restrictions. Everyone has their
own limits, their own capabilities, their own tastes and preferences,
SD, and only a handful of us wind up in long-term relationships
with partners without any restrictions whatsoever.
As for how to talk to her about her weight: Well, based on
the furious and furiously defensive mail that pours in whenever
the subject of weight comes up, I’d suggest you discuss it
through a bulletproof glass partition. Or you could launch
that real relationship, move in with her, and, presuming you
eat decently and get regular exercise yourself, set an example
of the kind of lifestyle choices that will bring down her
weight and up her game.
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I am a straight male. I have a problem ejaculating with
a partner. I have failed to complete the act even when I arranged
a session with two well-known porn stars I REALLY wanted.
This despite sticking it nearly everywhere—no Greek—and in
nearly every position. The only way I can reliably come is
when I hump my mattress naked with a towel underneath me.
What is my problem? I take Zoloft, which can have the effect
of delaying orgasm, but that doesn’t explain how I can get
off so quickly with my towel, which I do daily, but I couldn’t
get it done in an entire hour with my favorite big-butted
porn star who let me do whatever I wanted.
—Fucking
A Towel
First,
a stroll down memory lane: Hearing anal sex referred to as
“Greek” took me back to the days when I was a 13-year-old
closet case reading the personal ads in the back of a purloined
copy of the Advocate, wondering what the fuck fags meant when
they described themselves as “Greek active” or “Greek passive,”
and why it was that Greek actives invariably described themselves
as “French passive.” It all seemed so mysterious and continental.
Now, everyone is either a top or a bottom and romance is dead.
Moving on, FAT, it pains me to inform you that you’ve ruined
your dick with that towel-and-mattress routine. You’ve trained
your dick to respond to one kind of stimulation and one kind
of stimulation only, a particular kind of stimulation that
has very little in common with the sensations provided by
big-butted porn stars. Your only hope is to stop humping the
bed. Get some lube; use your left hand; use your right hand;
invest in a Fleshlight; masturbate on your back, standing
up, kneeling. Vary your masturbatory routine and habits and—this
is the hard part—don’t resort to the towel and mattress if
you have difficulty getting off. You spent a lot of time programming
your dick, and it’s going to take some time to reprogram your
dick, FAT. The only way to do that is to deny your dick—forever
and ever, amen—the towel-and-mattress routine. Once your dick
realizes that there’s no going back, it’ll adapt; it will
begin to respond to the new and closer-to-human sensations
that you’re making available to it. Good luck.
Download
a new Savage Love podcast every Tuesday at www.thestranger.com/savage.
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