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I
am a girl who sabotaged my relationship. I was angry; I had
complaints. But my real issue was a store of repressed childhood
trauma, and I was working it out on the closest person to
me, my BF. We had something magical, and I destroyed it. I
am now willing to give 110 percent to fix it.
We no longer have sex. We are hardly on speaking terms. I
know now that my relationship skills are stunted—more childhood
baggage—but I want to save my relationship. Do you have any
tips on initiating sex with someone who I have traumatized
or on improving communication with someone who is so resentful?
I am willing to give it time and effort and accept my faults.
—Saboteur
Addressing Dysfunctions
I’ll
get to your problem in a second, SAD. But first, a Savage
Love programming note: I don’t usually mention where I’m writing
a particular column, because it doesn’t really matter whether
my computer is sitting on Ann Landers’s desk or resting on
Apolo Ohno’s ass. (I will let you know when I am writing in
a bar, though, because alcohol can impair an advice columnist’s
judgment, and advice seekers have a right to know when they’re
getting substandard counsel.)
I’m writing this column on an airplane, and I was totally
in the zone when I noticed that the guy sitting next
to me on this airplane was reading my laptop screen. So I
wrote this: “HEY! YOU! YEAH, YOU! THE GUY SITTING NEXT TO
ME ON DELTA 2360! STOP READING THIS SHIT UNLESS YOU HAVE SOMETHING
TO ADD!”
Sheesh. Some people.
OK, SAD, on to your problem: Unless your boyfriend is a weight
bench or an exercise ball, you weren’t “working it out” on
him. You were taking it out on him. Now, maybe you’ve
been led to believe—by your counselor, by Oprah, by some other
idiot with an advice column—that you can just throw up your
hands and say, “Childhood issues! Childhood baggage!” and
everything will be magic again. Sorry, SAD, but sometimes
the damage is too great. Your boyfriend won’t speak to you?
Won’t fuck you? Game over.
Accept that you—not your issues, not your baggage,
but you yourself—screwed yourself out of a decent guy.
End it officially, get your ass into counseling, and make
a good-faith effort to resolve your issues and unpack your
bags before you inflict yourself on some other dope. You don’t
have to be 100 percent healthy before you date—no one is 100
percent healthy—but you do have to be in relatively good working
order, listing toward sanity, before you date again.
And what does the guy sitting next to me on this airplane
think?
“I’ve
dated girls like her,” says TGSNTMOTA. “Daddy issues. She
should get over her shit before she dates someone else, you
know, but she probably won’t. Girls like her never do. But
maybe this one will, because you’re pulling her up short.
And she should move to an island—Hawaii, the Big Island—because
being on an island can really help you work through your shit.”
Thanks, TGSNTMOTA!
I am a leather Daddy living in a big city. A young man—early
20s, living in a small town—contacted me online and asked
to be my boy. I declined, due to distance, but agreed to be
his confidant and adviser.
The boy has one huge problem: He is in a long-term relationship
with a vanilla boyfriend who has no interest in BDSM and vehemently
opposes allowing him to explore with others. Presently, the
boy goes to dungeon parties and plays with men behind his
boyfriend’s back. I feel very strongly that the boy should
either come to an understanding with his boyfriend that allows
him to explore or, if that isn’t possible, break up with him
so they can both find what they need.
I wouldn’t ordinarily presume to know what’s best for other
people, but this boy is starving sexually, emotionally, and
spiritually. But my conscience will not allow me to advise
him on navigating the leather scene when I know he’ll use
this knowledge to cheat on his boyfriend. I don’t think I
can advise him further until he resolves the issue. Do you
agree with the advice I’ve given this boy?
—Wanna
Be A Good Influence
I
agree with the advice you’ve given this boy—get the boyfriend’s
OK or get out—but this boy is already navigating the
leather scene, WBAGI, and will continue to cheat on his boyfriend
with or without your guidance.
So continue to serve as this boy’s confidant and adviser,
WBAGI, all the while pressing him to do the right thing and
leave his boyfriend. And we both know that he needs to leave
his boyfriend, WBAGI, not just get the boyfriend’s permission
to explore. If this boy’s interest in BDSM is so strong that
he’s jumped into the deep end of the pool—i.e., dungeon parties—he’ll
never be happy with a vanilla monogamist who grudgingly allows
him to play with other guys.
And what does the guy sitting next to me on this airplane
think?
“The
guy with the boyfriend should do what the other guy, the leather
guy, says,” says TGSNTMOTA. “Because the leather guy has a
good head on his shoulders, and the guy with the boyfriend
should listen to the leather guy and leave the other guy,
the boyfriend guy, and see other guys.”
Um . . . thanks, TGSNTMOTA!
I’m an 18-year-old hetero male college student. I’m
in a relationship with an awesome girl. I’m dominant; she’s
submissive. I like name-calling; she likes being called names.
Our libidos match, etc. There’s only one thing I’m into that
she isn’t: watersports.
The idea of urinating on a girl turns me on. My fetish is
by no means unusual, and I’m perfectly comfortable saying,
“I’m into piss!” She, however, finds the idea unappealing,
to say the least. I know that I’m young and have a long time
to act on my fantasies, but this one seems like it will always
be difficult. Do you think that, down the road, I will be
able to find a girl who is willing to get pissed on?
—I
Want To Pee On Someone
Watersports,
for the kinkily inclined, is one of those things that can
seem almost unspeakably perverse at 18 and not that big a
deal at 28. Don’t do it first thing in the morning, and don’t
do it after chowing through a plate of asparagus. Do it after
you’ve had a few beers and the piss is just so much warm—and
sterile—water.
So relax, IWTPOS, because the odds that you’ll be with this
girl forever are slim, and the odds that you’ll meet a girl
at some point who’s either into it or can be talked into it
are high.
And what does the guy sitting next to me on this airplane—a
very nice-if-nosey 30-something dude from Lubbock, Texas—think?
“I
have a thing for girls peeing on me,” TGSNTMOTA whispered
to me. “Because it’s like a sort of ‘female ejaculation’ thing.
I met girls on the Big Island who were into it, clear and
nice, and—”
OK, TGSNTMOTA, thanks for sharing and—hey—it looks like we’re
getting ready to land, so . . .thanks for playing Savage Love.
CONFIDENTIAL TO CANADA: Apparently, a hockey team of yours
recently triumphed over some other nation’s hockey team, and
one of the stars of your hockey team—the guy who scored Canada’s
first goal in the final and all-important match—has the same
last name as Vic Toews. So out of respect for Jonathan Toews—and
Canadian author Miriam Toews—we will not be redefining “Toews.”
Maybe we could redefine “Jason Kenney” instead?
Download
a new Savage Love podcast every Tuesday at www.thestranger.com/savage.
mail@savagelove.net
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