last year, my married girlfriend deployed to Iraq. Prior to
her leaving she told me she was having problems with her husband.
Being a good friend, I supported her. I learned via e-mail
that she had fallen in love with another man. When she came
home and asked her husband for a divorce, he was devastated.
My girlfriend asked me to reach out to him, which I did. We
shared our problems and bonded. Big mistake. One night we
went out, drank too much, and did the deed. I cried, I left.
But we continued to hang out. Here’s the worst part: My girlfriend
is back for good now and she and I work together. We are together
at work constantly. Her husband and I continue to hang out
and have sex. We are both lonely and want intimacy.
This is the part that worries me and makes me cringe: A mutual
friend saw me and my girlfriend’s husband at the movies. My
girlfriend asked him if he’s seeing me. He said it’s none
of her business. I was on vacation when this all went down.
The problem is, when I go to work, how can I play it off?
I want to confess but I don’t want to be called out for being
the slut that I am. How can I get out of this? How can I avoid
getting caught? What am I going to do? I have not confessed
any of this to another soul.
Longing = Upsetting Tryst
keep reading and rereading your letter, SLUT, trying to figure
out exactly what it is you did wrong, and so far I got nothin’.
Your girlfriend was having trouble in her marriage, met another
man, decided to divorce her husband, and asked you to reach
out to her soon-to-be-ex-husband, who was naturally pretty
depressed. You hung out with her husband at her request and
then the entirely predictable happened: You and your girlfriend’s
soon-to-be-ex-husband started banging away at each other.
If your girlfriend didn’t see that one comin’ up the block,
well, then she’s a fucking idiot.
But your girlfriend isn’t to blame for this mess. And neither
are you. And neither is her soon-to-be- ex-husband. No one
is really to blame, SLUT, because no one really did anything
wrong. Well, I guess all the infidelity was wrong, and your
girlfriend did start it, which puts her more in the wrong
than either you or her soon-to-be-ex-husband, but at this
point you’ve all got blood (and other bodily fluids) on your
hands (you’re soaking in it), so no one really has a right
to be keeping score.
So what to do? Stop worrying about getting “caught.” Tell
your girlfriend straight-out that you’re seeing her ex. Without
apologizing for what you’ve done, acknowledge that this puts
you both in an awkward position because you work together.
Tell your girlfriend that you know your friendship is going
to suffer but that you hope you can patch it up one day. Then
no more guilt, SLUT, no more tears. You didn’t betray your
girlfriend, you didn’t seduce the man she loved or break up
her marriage. She kicked her husband to the curb and that’s
where you picked him up. You didn’t steal your girlfriend’s
husband, SLUT; you recycled him.
me understand why some men like to lick a woman’s butt. Not
just the outside, but inside, putting the tongue up
inside it! This has come up recently with two gentlemen. One
lover—refined, late-50s, married—let me know that he absolutely
loves to do this and it gets him off like nothing else.
My current lover—urban, late-20s, single—also busted this
move. I would like to know why putting your tongue
inside someone’s butthole would be appealing or a turn-on
in any way. I don’t mind it but it does nothing for me. What
does it do for them?
Utterly Totally Taken
many folks write me demanding to know why something that does
nothing for them—eating butt, jacking off parakeets, wearing
latex masks—excites someone else. “I wouldn’t enjoy jacking
off parakeets,” people write, “so what could it possibly do
for the people who do enjoy it?” There’s no good answer to
this question, unfortunately. People do what they do because
they like it, they’re turned on by the things that turn them
on, which is why they do them. The turn-on itself is the “why.”
In your case, BUTT, why do some men like to eat butt? Because
they like to eat butt. And why do they like to eat butt? Because
it turns them on to eat butt. And why does it turn them on?
Because it does. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
with a mannequin is better than being with another person.
(I like to think of myself as half of a mannequpple.) They
put out and they do whatever you want. The harder ones to
get your hands on are the mannequins in high-end designer
stores. These companies have their marketing gurus design
their mannequins and they’re the best-looking ones out there.
Unfortunately, you can’t get them at any mannequin warehouse
and most sales clerks don’t respond positively to inquiries
about purchasing them. So I’ve resorted to stealing them—which
is easier than it sounds. The best way is to dress up looking
like you’re from “corporate,” bring a clipboard with an “Artificial
Model Inventory Sheet,” remove the clothes from the mannequin,
and pick it up and walk out like you’re doing nothing wrong.
If they question you (which has never happened to me,
and I’ve stolen dozens of them), just tell them to call Wanda
at some number you give them should they have any questions.
Then keep walking.
for the tip, ABIA, but I was just kidding around about the
mannequin fetish thing. While there’s a clothing store near
my office filled with skinny male mannequins wearing the kind
of clothes that turn my head, I haven’t developed a fetish
for hot, headless hipsters, despite what I wrote in this space
two weeks ago. So to you, ABIA, and all the other mannequin
fetishists out there who wrote in, and to all the folks who
wrote in to tell me that I had a fellow fetishist in comic-book
artist/walking freak show R. Crumb, and to the dozens of you
who wrote in to point out the upside of fucking a hot, headless
hipster boy (you won’t have to listen to him talk about his
vinyl collection or read the stuff he’s planning on submitting
to Vice magazine), and to the one person out there
who offered to send me what he thought might be snuff porn
featuring a hot, beheaded hipster boy—enough already! I prefer
my hipsters with heads, thank you very much, and I have no
desire to hang out with R. Crumb or be the lesser half of
a mannequpple. It was a joke and it’s one I’ve come to regret.
recent years, my friends and I have become concerned that
we are the only women left with pubic hair. Many of the women
we know (and an alarming number of the men) claim to be entirely
pube-free. In fact, a certain friend, who gets around quite
a bit, claims that he hasn’t seen an unshorn pubic region
in years. I would like to ask your readers to respond to our
informal survey, and to indicate 1) if they have pubes or
not; 2) to what degree they are shaved (for instance: are
they entirely hairless? Are they sporting a Brazilian wax,
the “Beckham look,” or some other variant of Minge Topiary?);
3) for how long, or since what age have people been trimming
or otherwise manipulating their hair; and 4) any thoughts
on this sociological trend.
We would appreciate any responses, sent to email@example.com.
Girls Against Deforestation
your letter, EGAD. I encourage my readers—pube-furry and pube-free—to
write in and let you know where they’re coming from.