|
A
coworker and I share a huge amount of sexual energy. The primary
issue is that he’s 17 and I’m closer to 30. My attraction
to him is likely related to a (mild) distrust of men, an issue
I’m working through with a therapist. I’m not interested in
a relationship, and I’m sure, at 17, he’s just looking for
excitement and experience. Still, I would make sure we understood
each other before anything happened. The age of consent in
my state is 18, but all the information I’ve been able to
find talked about older men and girls. Nothing about almost
legal, just-graduated-from-high-school guys, paired with older
women-with-issues. Is this something I should leave alone?
—Hot
Over Totally Tempting Youngster
 |
I
didn’t discuss your problem with a therapist, HOTTY, but I
did share your letter with my lawyer, along with an early,
much different draft of my advice for you. Ahem: As an officer
of the court, my lawyer strongly advised me not to
advise you to do anything illegal with him.
Until this boy is 18, it would be illegal for you to GO AHEAD
AND FUCK HIM, so it would be irresponsible of me in the extreme
to advise you to GO AHEAD AND FUCK HIM, even if I think it’s
highly unlikely that anyone would be harmed if you were to
GO AHEAD AND FUCK HIM. No doubt some people out there reading
this are outraged that HOTTY would even consider sleeping
with a minor. So let me come to HOTTY’s pre-emptive defense:
An older person can, in good conscience, sleep with younger
person, provided the older person obeys The Four Big “Nos”
of Sleeping With a Young, Inexperienced Person: 1. Tell no
lies. 2. Transmit no diseases. 3. Make no babies. 4. Break
no hearts. By making sure they understood each other before
anything were to happen, HOTTY is obeying No. 1. She isn’t
letting the boy believe a meaningful, long-term relationship
is possible. If HOTTY obeys the other three “Nos,” however,
she and the boy can have a meaningful, short-term relationship.
Meaningful short-term relationships don’t get much press,
and a lot of people aren’t even aware they exist. But exist
they do, and when pressed most people can recall having at
least one when they were young—I know had one. (Yes, Tommy,
I’m thinking of you.) While I’ll admit that rule No. 4 is
tricky—despite the older person’s best efforts, the younger
one can still wind up with a broken heart (and, yes, Tommy,
I’m thinking of you)—if the older person observes “Nos” numbers
1, 2, and 3, then the older person can’t be condemned if No.
4 is broken. Finally, my lawyer wanted me to add a fifth “No”
to the list: Break no laws. So in conclusion, and at the insistence
of my lawyer, let me emphasize again to you, HOTTY, that you
shouldn’t initiate a meaningful, short-term relationship with
this boy until he’s 18. I hope I’m making myself clear: You
must wait until this boy turns 18 before you GO AHEAD
AND FUCK HIM. Do we understand each other?
|
I have a weird fetish. I find childbirth
sexually arousing. I watch TV programs that show childbirth
(they’re on The Learning Channel) while masturbating. I don’t
think I have a problem, since I am not attracted to
the babies. Are there any other people out there like me?
—Wanting
Others Masturbating (to) Birth
Sorry,
WOMB, but as compelling/revolting as your problem is, I just
can’t concentrate on it. You see, I’m simply too giddy about
the big score I made yesterday. No, I didn’t go ahead and
fuck some hard-bodied 17-year-old. What’s put me on cloud
nine is something I bought yesterday: I got . . . I got .
. . a desk! A used desk! A really old, beat-up desk! It’s
covered with ink stains and pieces of Scotch tape, the veneer
is peeling, and it’s even missing a drawer. But it’s not so
much the used desk itself that I’m giddy about but the person
who used it: Ann Landers. Items from the estate of Eppie Lauderer,
aka Ann Landers, were auctioned off last week, and when I
learned that Ann Landers’ desk was going on the block—the
very desk where she sat and wrote her advice column!—I got
my ass on an airplane. And I got the desk.
While it’s highly ironic that the world’s smuttiest advice
column will now be written at the same desk where the world’s
most mainstream (and most popular) advice column was once
written, I intended no disrespect in purchasing Ann Landers’
desk. I’m not mocking Ann Landers, her column, or her memory—far
from it! This is going to make me sound like a huge softy,
but the truth is I bought Landers’ desk for sentimental reasons.
I started reading Landers’ column shortly after I learned
to read, and I continued to read her column until the ones
she filed before her death ran out. A life-long fan, I bought
Ann Landers’ desk because I wanted to keep it in the advice
business. While the advice I’ll be giving from Landers’ desk
it isn’t the same advice she would’ve given (see my response
to HOTTY, above), that just demonstrates the beautiful thing
about advice. According to the American Heritage Dictionary,
advice is just one person’s “opinion about what could or should
be done.”
People who wanted Ann Landers’ opinion wrote to her; people
who want my opinion write to me. Everybody has got opinions,
and the only qualification you need to give someone advice
is being asked for it. (An opinion for WOMB, who did ask for
it: You say you’re not attracted to the babies, but how do
you propose to have sex with a woman as she’s giving birth
and avoid the baby?) In conclusion, I want to emphasize that
I am delighted to be the proud, non-ironic, no-disrespect-intended
owner of Ann Landers’ desk. When Savage Love is pried from
my cold, dead hands, I hope that Ann Landers’ desk will be
passed on to a fourth- or fifth-generation advice columnist.
In the meantime, I hope the ol’ gal will peer over my shoulder
every once in a while as I work on Savage Love sitting at
her desk.
Confidential to George W. Bush: Ann Landers advised presidents
and now that I own her desk, I’m gonna start: So Saudi money
may have financed the 9/11 attacks. Can we go ahead and invade
Saudi Arabia now and get it over with, please? If we’re serious
about halting the spread of Islamo-fascism, I think we should
fight the problem at its source—or sources, plural, I should
say. America’s dependence on oil enriches the Saudis, who
turn around and spend the money—our money!—promoting fanatical
hatred of the United States all over the world. Here’s a thought,
Mr. President: Let’s shitcan the tax cuts for the super-wealthy
and invest the money in alternative fuels, wind and solar
power, and the development of affordable electric cars. This
won’t stop Islamo-fascism, of course. We’re still going to
have to fight these bastards; unlike some of my lefty pals,
I’m all for fighting the bastards. But I don’t think it makes
much sense to fight Islamo-fascism and finance it at the same
time.
Dan
Savage’s new book, Skipping Towards Gomorrah (Dutton),
is on sale now, and it makes a great holiday gift for the
all the Republicans on your list. Send your Savage Love questions
to mail@savagelove.net
|
Columns
& Opinions
