a 28-year-old guy. When I make out with a girl, I produce
lots of pre-come. It is often so much that my pants get wet.
And it’s tons worse if there’s petting involved. This can
be very embarrassing, especially if we’re in public. I’ve
gotten to the point where I’ll wear a pair of shorts in addition
to my boxers under a pair of jeans (heaven forbid this happens
when I’m wearing khakis!). What suggestions do you have to
avoid this embarrassment?
Every Time Patiently and Never Talking Smack
I don’t know, WETPANTS. Buy yourself some plastic panties
or wear a wet suit or a maxi pad or something. If you’re that
worried about soiling your khakis—really, heaven forbid you
should soil your precious khakis—wear Depends under your Dockers.
Pardon me for not finding your problem riveting, WETPANTS.
While I usually find the tiniest problems of my heterosexual
readers infinitely fascinating, and while this fascination
has served me well in my chosen career, I’m just a little
out of sorts this week. I was unlucky enough to catch the
president of the United States giving his weekly radio address
on Saturday, in which he renewed his call for a constitutional
amendment to ban same-sex marriage. Then I spent two delightful
days in front of the television set watching my old college
roommate Sen. Rick Santorum—AKA, that frothy mix of lube and
fecal matter that is sometimes the by-product of anal sex—yammering
on and on about protecting the sacred institution of marriage
from the likes of me.
Doesn’t it violate the Texas anti-sodomy law once backed by
President Bush, to say nothing of the Federal Communications
Commission’s new anti-smut regulations, for so many U.S. senators
to have their heads up their butts on C-SPAN? And, hey, it’s
good to know that the U.S. Senate has ample time for this
Very Important Business while the terrorists—those evildoing
teases!—are allegedly on the verge of staging a fresh attack
on American soil. Meanwhile over at the White House, in between
beating on all the old, married lesbians in Massachusetts,
the Bush administration has time to float trial balloons about
suspending the presidential election if the evildoers do manage
to attack on or before Election Day—but just the presidential
election, of course. In case of a terror attack, Americans
will still be able to vote for our county commissioners and
dogcatchers and frothy mixes of lube and fecal matter. The
president will be too busy invading countries that had nothing
to do with the attack and beating up on homos to, you know,
actually risk losing an election.
Okay, I feel better. Now that I got that off my chest, I will
return to respectfully answering the sex and love questions
of my largely hetero readership.
I’m a hetero college female and my boyfriend and I are
sexually active. We started using condoms, and there’s a bit
of a problem: The damn things won’t stay on! Now, I’m no expert
on penises, but I’ve seen my share, and my fella is pretty
well-endowed without being freakishly large. So why won’t
the condoms stay on? Is it because they’re lubricated? It
seems like we only get like three good thrusts in before they’re
falling off, and it doesn’t seem to be for lack of lube.
Keep Condom On
couple of safety pins—sterilize ’em first, of course—should
keep that condom in place. If that doesn’t work, well, try
a staple gun.
I am a 32-year-old woman with a loving boyfriend of just
over a year. We have begun discussing the idea of bringing,
for the first time, another woman into our relationship for
a one-shot (or if it rocks our world, a few) “just curious”
try. We agree that it would have to be for both of
us. We are also talking about healthy boundaries and respecting
the other woman and her needs too. We know that the woman
would have to be a neutral and unknown party because neither
of us feels like we could fully enjoy the experience with
Which brings me to my question. How do we go about finding
a woman to bring home with us? We will be in San Francisco
next month for two weeks, and that might be a good time to
make this happen, since commitment to this person wouldn’t
be an issue. We also think this might be good neutral and
fertile ground. I don’t like the idea of placing an ad or
using the Internet. What is the right way to pick someone
up for this type of adventure? Do I go to a gay/lesbian club?
How can I tell which women in a lesbian bar are anti-man lesbians?
Any help is welcome.
the last meeting of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force,
the Subcommittee for Lesbian Grievances made a successful
proposal to the committee of the whole: Straight women trolling
for women who might be willing to fulfill their boyfriends’
and husbands’ girl-girl-guy three-way fantasies are now welcome
in lesbian clubs—provided you clearly identify yourselves
to the bartenders upon your arrival. So while you’re in San
Francisco, RTT, walk up to the bartender at any of the city’s
lesbian bars and say, “Hi, I’m here to find a third for me
and my boyfriend.” The bartender will introduce you to all
the other straight women in the bar looking for pro-man lesbians.
Partially thanks to your column I have found a woman who
indulges me in my fetish: pegging. Apart from occasional santorum,
she doesn’t seem to mind. However, she has the nagging fear
that I am secretly gay. When we engage in pegging, half of
the thrill is that it feels really good, and the other half
is the wonderful thought that a woman is doing this to me,
which is naughty and cool and otherwise freaky and fun. Nowhere
beyond the fake plastic penis is a man involved. For her benefit,
since I know she reads your column, could you explain that
this doesn’t make me gay?
HMO, but I’ve changed my mind. Any straight man who would
let a woman do him in the ass has to be secretly gay. You’re
a fag, HMO, just admit it already.
If they not only amend the U.S. Constitution to ban gay
marriage, Dan, but also put language in there forcing gay
guys to marry women, who would get to be the lucky Mrs. Savage?
of course, as she’s the only woman I know who likes to talk
about assfucking as much as I do (www.wonkette.com). If Wonkette
won’t have me, then I’d pop the question to Mary Cheney, Vice
President Dick Cheney’s lezbo daughter. Mary worked for the
Bush/Cheney campaign in 2000, doing outreach to gay and lesbian
voters—effective outreach, apparently, as almost 25 percent
of gay and lesbian voters went for Bush. (You dumbfucks!)
Mary’s working for her dad again this year, despite the fact
that her dad and her dad’s boss want to write anti-gay bigotry
into the U.S. Constitution. As Mary’s husband, I would do
all I could to make her absolutely miserable. I wouldn’t beat
her (I reserve that for people I like), but I would pee on
the toilet seat every morning, fart under the covers every
night, and remind her at every opportunity that she’s the
most despised American lesbian since Mamie Eisenhower.