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I am a massage girl—wink, wink—who provides men with happy endings. I enjoy porn—especially guy-on-guy porn—and I like to think of myself as very open. I am also happily married. Until recently. My husband is 36, handsome, 6’2”, well-endowed, works out daily, and has an awesome body. For 14 years our sex life was great. He always liked that I talked dirty during sex, watched porn, etc. In the past two years, however, all he has wanted to talk about are she-males. The she-male thing wouldn’t bother me so much if he could still fuck me like before, but he’s been having a hard time getting hard for me. The only way he can get hard lately is while he’s watching she-male porn or listening to me talk dirty about she-males. I know a professional she-male through my chosen profession, and I offered to make my husband’s fantasy come true. But he is too scared of diseases to act on it. Do you think he’s gay? Nothing would be wrong with him being gay—except what it would mean for our marriage!

—Confused and Frustrated in B’more

Here’s what’s up with straight guys into she-males: Some straight guys like dick—I mean, they really like dick. They like dick so much that they want to play with dicks other than their own. But they’re straight guys, CAFIB, so they don’t want to play with some other dude’s dick. They want to play with a dick that’s attached to someone who in every other respect looks like a hot woman. Straight guys like your husband are pretty common, CAFIB, while good-looking she-males are not. Which is why hot she-males can charge hundreds of dollars an hour for the pleasure of their company.

So is your husband gay? No. Gay men like dick to be attached to men, not women. (Speaking as a gay man, I can assure you that I’ve never been tempted by she-male dick.) While I feel confident in saying that your cock-hungry husband is straight, CAFIB, by no means is he 100-percent straight. But he’s straight enough for all practical purposes—certainly straight enough to fuck your brains out for 14 years, and straight enough to keep on fucking your brains out for the rest of your unnatural life. You see, very few straight guys into she-males are into them exclusively. They just want to mess around with a she-male, once or twice, now and then, so they can play with another dick. (Didja catch that? I wrote, “another dick,” not, “another man’s dick.” He wants to play with a woman’s dick. Cuz he’s straight—see how that works?)

As to your husband’s performance problems of late, well, I’d chalk them up to that notorious buzz-kill, the Unfulfilled, All-Consuming Fantasy. He’s clearly obsessed, CAFIB, and until he lives out this fantasy, all other sex acts, partners, and opportunities will pale in comparison to the idealized she-male experience he’s been masturbating about for two years. His sexual withdrawal is a sign of despair, not homosexuality.

So what do you do? Stop asking your husband for permission to help him realize his fantasy and just make it happen. I speak from experience. I can’t go into details, CAFIB, because my boyfriend stuck a “no details about our sex life in the column” clause in our prenup, but I can say this: A few years back, my reliably vanilla boyfriend suddenly had a fantasy. It was his first. Like your husband, CAFIB, my boyfriend wanted to talk about his fantasy during sex, and he downloaded all the relevant pornography. But whenever I suggested we stop talking about it and do it, he balked. Then one day I told him I was done asking for his permission. I was just going to make it happen. And that’s just what I did. He was grateful, which was nice, and his fantasy, once realized, was no longer all- consuming, which was nicer. It was still there, of course; realizing a fantasy, despite what so many people seem to believe, does not purge it. But after acting on his fantasy, my boyfriend was able to talk about other stuff during sex again. (I realize this is frustratingly vague, CAFIB, but if I included any actual details—like, say, the Finnish national swim team, the two kegs of beer, or the 15 rolls of duct tape—my boyfriend would kill me.)

So here’s what you do: The next time your husband begs you to talk dirty about she-males, do it. Then, during the dirty talk, tell him that you’re going to make it happen, and tell him you’re not asking for his permission anymore. Then make it happen—invite your she-male colleague over for the evening, use condoms on his dick and her dick, and keep the sex as safe as possible.

Will your husband, once he’s tasted she-dick, decide to run off with your colleague? Perhaps. But that’s a risk you’ll have to run, CAFIB, just as I ran the risk of losing my boyfriend to the Finnish national swim team. Because if your husband never realizes his fantasy, you’re going to lose him for sure. Subconsciously your husband has set this up as a choice between his fantasies and his marriage, which is probably why he’s having a hard time getting it up for you. You have to make it clear that it isn’t a choice he has to make—hell, it’s not a choice you’re going to allow him to make.

I was getting a quick espresso from a hot woman who works at my favorite coffee shop in Baltimore. She had the City Paper open on the counter and was reading your column. One on santorum. “What’s Savage Love?” I asked. She said it’s a column for freaks with outlandish problems. I wanted to discuss and flirt further, but an older man behind me was impatiently waiting to buy four newspapers. So I left. Any ideas on how to strike up another conversation? Any ideas on topics?

—Garth

Here’s an idea, Garth: I run your letter in my column, the coffee girl sees it, and you converse on the topic of “be careful what you wish for.”

And speaking of santorum. . . .

My santorum Web site—www.spreadingsantorum.com—is now the first thing that comes up on Google after Sen. Santorum’s own Web sites, which is wonderful. (And after taking a break over the holidays, I’m posting lots of new letters on the site this week.) What’s not so wonderful, however, is the way the mainstream media elite has censored this important story! Some asshole compares Bush to Hitler in some dumb TV commercial that never even aired and it’s all over the place! My readers and I work like hell to appropriate Sen. Santorum’s name, we succeed beyond our wildest dreams, and not a single story? If this isn’t hard evidence of the conservative bias in the mainstream media, Garth, I’ll eat Tucker Carlson’s shoes. Someone at the Washington Post—come on, Hank!—needs to jump on this story already!

I wanted to suggest that SPISL’s wife, the woman with the sweet-tasting pee, visit her doctor and make sure she doesn’t actually have sugar, and not Sweet’N Low, in her urine. SPISL may have inadvertently diagnosed diabetes with his kink.

—Doc in NYC

Thanks for writing, Doc. Unlike the boys in the Finnish national swim team, people with diabetes have sweet piss. SPISL’s wife should see a doctor as soon as possible.

mail@savagelove.net


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