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I
am a female college sophomore whose boyfriend is currently
studying abroad in Europe. I’ve been thinking about ending
the relationship since I’m sick of the long- distance thing.
Here’s the problem: I recently heard that at the beginning
of last semester, which was before we started dating that
he date-raped two girls. The story goes that, on two separate
occasions, he was doing drugs with a girl and used the fact
that he had provided drugs to pressure them into having sex.
I believe the drug they were using was coke. I’d like to give
my boyfriend the benefit of the doubt, but the fact that it’s
not just one, but two girls is pretty damning. On the other
hand, he’s always been totally respectful towards me.
So here’s my question: Should I tell him what I heard? I want
to hear his version of the events, but if these rumors are
true, then it only makes me want to break up with him more.
—Decision
Is Damned Hard Enough
First
off, DIDHE, coke is not a date-rape drug. Date-rape drugs,
as commonly understood, are substances that render a girl
helpless, practically comatose, obliterating her will and
any ability to resist. If anything, DIDHE, cocaine would have
to be considered the opposite of a date-rape drug.
Second, let’s define the terms “rape” and “date rape” for
all the college sophomores out there: Being pressured into
having sex that you regretted the next morning does not mean
you were raped. Being seduced does not mean you were raped,
nor does consenting to sex when you were drunk or high. If
someone is pressuring you or seducing you or hitting on you
when you’re drunk or high and you try to get up and leave
or tell him to stop and he physically prevents you from leaving
and forces you to have sex with him against your will—that’s
rape. If it happens on a date, that’s date rape.
OK, DIDHE, if the ugly rumor you heard about your boyfriend
is true, that means he’s a jerk and an asshole and a shit.
But not a rapist. (If I were cynical I might suggest that
you were inclined to believe the worst because it makes your
decision to dump your boyfriend a little bit easier.) Should
you tell him what you heard? Yes, you should. At the very
least, he needs to know that pressuring girls into having
sex can earn a guy a reputation as a rapist even if he never
actually raped anyone.
I am a 22-year-old guy in Michigan.
Recently my girlfriend cheated on me. Then she said she didn’t
want to hang out with me because I “touched her” too much.
Then a couple of days later, she shows up at my door, takes
her clothes off and says, “I want you now.” Four minutes later
she says, “Stop! I can’t do this.” I pull out, and she starts
crying. Now she won’t return my calls and she blocked my screenname.
What is going on?
—Lesson
On Sex Encounter Required
Two
possible answers, LOSER:
Possible Answer 1: What’s going on? Your girlfriend—or your
ex-girlfriend—is a huge fucking psycho and you’re well rid
of her.
Possible Answer 2: She said “I want you now” and four minutes
later your dick was in her? Maybe she wanted you when
she got to your place but once your dick was in her she decided
to go find herself a guy who had heard of foreplay.
I'm sure you’re aware that Ashton
Kutcher has a new show on MTV called Punk’d in which
celebrities are subjected to pranks. Knowing that you’re a
fan of Mr. Kutcher’s, I wondered if you were at all troubled
by the show’s title. From Webster’s: “A young person,
especially a member of a rebellious counterculture group .
. . a young man who is the sexual partner of an older man.”
Not included in Webster’s
is the black-slang definition: a pejorative reference to a
homosexual man. Given MTV’s well-known penchant for appropriating
black slang—holla if you hear me, Carson—I find it hard to
believe that the folks at MTV (or your object d’love) were
unaware of this. My question to you, then, is how do you suppose
such thinly veiled homophobia has gone unnoticed and unchallenged?
Could you imagine, for example, a similar silence greeting
the airing of a show called Fagged? As a gay black
man who has been called “punk” on more than one occasion,
I for one am disturbed by the show’s title. What are your
thoughts?
—Wondering
How Apathy Towards Slurs Urbain Perceived
P.S.
For the record, I sent a letter to MTV and I’m still waiting
for a response.
It’s hard for me to concentrate on your question, WHATSUP,
because I’m finding it difficult—impossible—to stop thinking
about Ashton Kutcher starring in Fagged. As a gay white
man who has been called “fag” on more than one occasion, I
for one am intrigued by the show’s title—heck, a rough outline
for the first season keeps popping into my head. I don’t want
to give anything away (I may pitch the show to MTV), but here’s
a teaser: During the entire first season Ashton never leaves
Room 23 in the Black Tulip Hotel in Amsterdam (www.blacktulip.nl).
Hmm. . . .
OK, WHATSUP, I got in touch with the good folks at MTV on
your behalf and I sent your letter to the appropriate people
and the appropriate people promised to get back to me. And
didn’t. So fuck the appropriate people at MTV. But I suspect
you’re correct, WHATSUP: MTV knew that “punk” was black slang.
But I wouldn’t get too worked-up about it if I were you. If
I was a black gay man and I wanted to get worked up about
something, WHATSUP, I’d get worked up about the torrents of
homophobic bullshit that pour down from pulpits in African-American
churches all over the country every Sunday—that does a lot
more harm to African-American gay men than anything on MTV.
And while we’re on the subject of Ashton Kutcher . . .
Not only is Ashton on the cover of the new Rolling Stone—all
is forgiven for that bug-chasing story, RS—but Ashton
discusses my crush on him in Gavin Edwards’ very fine profile.
Ashton also reveals that he sent me an e-mail and seems miffed
that I didn’t believe it was actually from him. In my defense,
Ashton sweetie, ever since I revealed my true feelings for
you I’ve received hundreds of e-mails from people claiming
to be you. And after we e-mailed each other back and forth
a few times, Ashton sugarclump, I did come to believe that
I was actually corresponding with the real Ashton Kutcher,
and I told you so—remember? In the last e-mail I sent you,
Ashton honeypie, I even offered to let you play guest expert
in this space sometime so that you could try your hand at
sex advice. The offer still stands. Maybe after we shoot the
pilot for Fagged you and I can leave the Black Tulip,
find an Internet cafe, sort through the e-mail, and then sit
down and bang out a column—no, wait . . . after we shoot the
pilot for Fagged, Ashton, you won’t be able to sit
down at all. . . .
Next week in Savage Love: Doin’ the “Rick Santorum.”
mail@savagelove.net
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