I’m a gay man who recently came out to my friends, mostly because I met someone with whom I wanted to pursue a relationship. I had never experienced this feeling before. After much courting and pursuing, we met enough times that he remembered my name–then came love. Eight months later, despite a few indiscretions on both our parts, I’m happy as can be. But I don’t think we’re in the same place emotionally. I need him–well, actually, I neeeeed him–and he says he needs his space. I don’t want to date anyone else, and I fear that if we were to split up I would revert to the sexual deviant that I was and he would do the same.
Here’s where the story gets a little hairy. His prior “indiscretion” was with a German shepherd. I have no problems with his zoophilia, per se, except that we have an almost nonexistent sex life. I wouldn’t mind this aside from a few issues. First, he still masturbates. Second, he lied about it. Third, the very few times we have engaged in sex, he only receives, and it upsets me when he tries to maneuver us into a doggy-style position.
He’s in therapy and it seems to be helping, but the more therapy he goes to, the less time he seems to want to spend with me. I love him and can’t bear to think of us parting. I want to have sex with him, but I also want to respect his boundaries. How do I get him to want to spend more time with me? Am I right for giving him space? Or should I be more forceful in my pursuits? –Not a German Shepherd
PS: Is his zoophilia relevant? I don’t think it is, because I love him despite his attraction to canines. And I’m 24, while he is somewhere between 26 and 29. I don’t really care about his age. He said he was 26, but his driver’s license has a 1976 DOB on it.
Let’s quickly review: the man you’ve fallen in love with likes to fuck dogs, doesn’t much like being fucked by you (except in the doggy position), “needs his space” (in order to fuck dogs, no doubt), and lies to you about his masturbatory routine, age, and God knows what else. The one thing he hasn’t lied to you about is the dog fucking–that little detail he’s only too willing to share.
So yeah, NAGS, I’d say there’s a problem here–but it’s you, not him. Don’t get me wrong: the love of your short life is a total mess, of course, what with all the dog fucking, space needing, lie telling, and therapy going. But this eight-month relationship would have ended seven months and three weeks ago if you weren’t so desperately in love with the idea of being in love. How else to explain your fear of parting from a man that any sane fag would run screaming from?
And there really is no other explanation for your willingness to overlook issues that any sensible person would regard as four distinct deal breakers. A person might be able to have a relationship with someone who has had or is still having sex with dogs (1 to 2 percent of the population has sexual contact with animals, and even passionate zoophiles can sustain relationships with humans), or someone who isn’t all that attracted to you, or with someone who needs his space, or with someone who lies compulsively–but not all four.
Look, NAGS, I feel for you; I’ve been there. (Well, not entirely–I’ve never been with a dog fucker, I’m happy to report.) What I learned is that sometimes we fall in love with people who, for whatever reason, simply aren’t healthy enough to love us back. When you realize that you’re falling in love with a hopeless mess, NAGS, you don’t hang in there hoping that your love will cure him. Love is grand, but love ain’t going to magically turn some sick fuck into a healthy fuck.
So dump the dog fucker already, NAGS. Trust me: you don’t want to look in the mirror every morning and think to yourself, “There’s the guy who wasn’t good enough for a dog fucker.”
I’m a married male in my 40s who has recently discovered the pleasure of drinking my wife’s pee. It’s now a staple of our sex life; nothing gets me hornier than several mouthfuls of my wife’s piss. Here’s my question: my wife has recently decided to take tamoxifen to reduce her risk of breast cancer. Is it still safe for me to drink her urine? Can one of your expert consultants give us an answer? –Peeing Is So Sexy
“The odds are small,” says Dr. Barak Gaster, internist at the University of Washington and Savage Love’s go-to guy on medical matters. “But there is some risk of messing with his sex hormones, because tamoxifen has mixed estrogenlike effects. He can be reasonably reassured, though, since he’s going to be getting such tiny amounts. Only about 10 percent of the drug will come out in her urine, and ‘several mouthfuls’ a day will only be a tiny fraction of her daily output. He should know, however, that tamoxifen in men can sometimes cause reduced sex drive, extremely painful erections, and vision problems.”
So keep drinking, PISS, but if you find yourself hard and not horny and unable to see your dick clearly, then you’re going to need to lay off.
I wanted to give you a heads-up. Senator Rick Santorum–the frothy mix from Pennsylvania–is down double digits in the polls! Lots can happen between now and Election Day, of course, but I was wondering: any plans to celebrate if Frothy Mix gets the boot? You deserve a pat on the back for exposing him to the ridicule he deserves. –Flush That Frothy Mix
To say that I’m proud of what my readers and I have done to Rick Santorum is putting it mildly. I don’t like to brag, so I’ll quote Wonkette on our efforts: “No one has done more to ruin Senator Rick Santorum’s good name than sex columnist Dan Savage … with the possible exception of Senator Rick Santorum.”
A note to my readers in Pennsylvania: I’m doing a benefit for Philadelphians Against Santorum on Tuesday, October 10, at the Trocadero Theatre. For more info on “Savage Love Live” go to phillyagainstsantorum.com. And remember, Pennsylvania voters: we can’t wipe Santorum off the U.S. Senate floor if you folks don’t get out there and vote for Bob “Lesser of Two Weasels” Casey on November 7!
Next week in Savage Love: John Cameron Mitchell, director of the new film Shortbus, answers your sex questions.
Send questions to firstname.lastname@example.org. © 2006 Dan Savage