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I recently went on a business trip cross- country. While there, I spent a good deal of time with a female friend I’ve known for over eight years. In all that time, I’ve loved this woman. I’ve had girlfriends in that time, but no one very serious for very long. She’s always had a long-term boyfriend, a much richer/more confident/better looking/more successful guy, and I would be remiss if I failed to admit that she’s somewhat out of my league because she’s also much richer/more confident/better looking/more successful than me. We’ve been good friends, though.

Before I went on this trip, I hadn’t spoken or exchanged messages with this woman for over a year, chiefly because I wanted to move on. Which I thought I had. Then I see her, and everything feels the same. She’s now broken up with her boyfriend. I got my hopes up. On the night before I left, when I had to come to terms with the disappointment that nothing was going to happen on this trip, including my finally biting the bullet to tell her how I feel, I went back to my hotel and poured out everything I had been feeling into a seven-page letter. In short, I have created my personal equivalent of an atom bomb—a piece of writing that may forever alter the state of our friendship. My question to you, Dan, is do I send it and say “Fuck the consequences,” or hide it in a drawer and say, “Fuck! The consequences!”

—Written Mass Destruction

Blah blah fuckin’ blah, WMD. Send the fucking girl the fucking letter already, you fucking coward. You don’t want her as a friend—in fact, being her friend was such torture that you were already pulling away from her. So you’ve got nothing to lose by telling this woman how you really feel. Send her the fucking letter. If you lose her friendship, well, so fucking what? You were losing her friendship anyway. Pull the fucking trigger, chickenshit.

I am a 20-year-old female college student who is still living at home. I have a brother who is 15 years old and he is starting to discover the opposite sex. That’s all fine and good, except a few days ago I was using his computer and I discovered his badly hidden porn stash on the hard drive. I was shocked to find a picture of myself that he must have taken while I was sleeping. I was wearing a little nightie and it was pretty revealing. I deleted the picture, but I have no idea if there are copies somewhere. As much as I am mortified by the idea of my brother jerking off to a picture of me, I am even more worried about this picture circulating on the Internet. I don’t know what to do. My brother and I used to be close and I don’t want to wreck our relationship by making a big deal out of this. What is the best way to handle this situation?

—Pissed Off Right Now

What’s the best way of handling this? By making a big deal out of it. He violated your privacy and he needs to know that’s not OK. And it will help him to remember that it’s not OK to violate people’s privacy if you make a big deal out of this—i.e., threaten to cut his balls off, threaten to tell your parents. Then the next time a similar opportunity presents itself—at college, at a friend’s house—he’ll think twice about hauling out the digital camera, afraid that he might get caught again.

But don’t make too big a deal out of this. As I recently mentioned in this space, little brothers sometimes develop crushes on their big sisters because their big sisters are so female and so handy. In most cases, PORN, the crush passes, no harm done. Even if your brother was jerking off to that picture of you, I’d bet you pot brownies to pound cake that he was pretending the girl in the picture wasn’t his sister.

On May 2 I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. While I won’t bore you with all the details, I hope you can be of help in one area of my recovery (I have talked to four oncologists and have been to timid to ask this question). Can my wife perform oral sex on me and complete the act while I am on chemo? We have read that intercourse should be attempted only while using condoms, but no one mentions the good, old fashioned all-American blow job. Can you help us find the answer?

—Depressed and Slack-Jawed

My first impulse was to urge your primary caregiver to give you as many morale-boosting blowjobs as she possibly could. Thank God I called Dr. Barak Gaster, Savage Love’s resident medical consultant, before I shot off my mouth.

“Chemotherapy drugs are toxic,” said Barak. “It’s hard to find medicine that kills cancer cells but isn’t damaging to healthy cells also. Although the amount of chemo that’s present in semen is likely very small, the risk is probably not worth it—and it’s definitely not worth it if there’s any chance that the person on the receiving end may be pregnant (these drugs cause severe birth defects). The risk could be lowered a bit if she’s careful not to swallow, but the risk is still probably not worth it.”

But do not despair! Get your dick good and wet before you put on a condom that’s a size or two too big and there will be enough play between the skin on your dick and the wet latex to provide you with the necessary friction. Trust me: You can get head and get off wearing a condom—I’ve done it in pursuit of safe sex, and you can do it in pursuit of chemo sex.

OK, Dan, let’s see here . . . in last week’s column, you: (1) told a guy to divorce his wife because she’s fat and boring in bed; (2) said gay guys are more likely to be fucked up than straight guys; (3) told a guy who made a demeaning comment to, and later struck, his coworker that he doesn’t owe her an apology (granted she bit his dick so hard it bled, but still!); and (4) told another guy to stick with his pot-smoking girlfriend because pot is no big deal. Boy, are you in for it! Just wanted to tell you, you’re right on all counts. Hope you remember that while you’re getting blasted by all the angry letters you’re about to receive.

—Dan Fan

Hmm . . . now that you mention it, DF, there does seem to be a lot of outraged e-mail pouring in this week. Here’s what I learned reading through the angry notes: When a woman gains a lot of weight and refuses to have sex, it is, at bottom, all her husband’s fault; gay guys are NOT more fucked up than straight guys, and I’m a self-hating homo for saying that and IT’S NOT TRUE and I really should DIE and someone needs to put a BULLET in my FUCKING ASSHOLE HEAD; it’s never, ever OK to hit a woman, even if she bites your dick in half; and smoking pot—non-addictive pot, a drug that no one in human history has ever overdosed on, a drug millions of people use occasionally without doing themselves or anyone else any harm—WILL KILL YOU!

I stand corrected.

Next week in Savage Love: How to use santorum in a sentence—and how to get santorum out of your sheets!

mail@savagelove.net


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