I need your help. On Saturday, February 17, I went out dancing with some friends from work. We ended up at Electra (in Cincinnati), where I wound up dancing with this really attractive Asian woman. We danced all night and built up a really magical rapport. Her ride was pressuring her to leave, so in haste I borrowed a pen from the bartender and scribbled my first name and phone number on a napkin. I didn’t try to get her phone number because I didn’t want to seem pushy, and she promised to call.

But something felt wrong when I gave her that number. Then later I realized what was wrong: I gave her the wrong number! It’s hard to explain how this could happen, but I’d had a few drinks and I think I gave her my old number by mistake and not my current one. When I realized what I’d done, I called my old number to see if anyone would answer and perhaps relay a message for me, but it was a nonworking number. So next I called the phone company to have my old number installed in my apartment as well as my regular number. But by the time they installed it, three days had gone by. I’m worried that Cheryl tried the number before I got it assigned to my apartment, and when she got a “nonworking number” message she figured that I had dissed her. Shit!

I know almost nothing about this girl except that her name is Cheryl and she’s in her early 20s. I don’t know her last name, or where she works, or even if she’s in school. It’s super rare that I find someone that I am that attracted to and have that kind of energy with, so I really need your help. Would you please, please, please publish this message:

I am desperately seeking Cheryl. She has long dark hair (past shoulder length) and was wearing black pants, a white top (a loose V neck that comes a little shy of her pant line), and a silver belt. She’s Asian and probably in her early 20s. Any help that anyone could offer me would be greatly appreciated.

I don’t know what else to do about this, and that’s why I’m begging you to publish my letter. Please help me, Dan!

–Still Kicking Myself


Writing an advice column isn’t about helping people. One poor sap sends a question, I write a response, and millions of people–literally millions–read the column. So, I ask you, SKM, who’s the column for? Poor saps with questions? Or millions of readers nursing sad and prurient interests in other people’s sex lives? It’s for the millions, of course. The primary objective of this advice column–of all advice columns–is to amuse the readers, not help letter writers. This is the advice-column industry’s penultimate dirty little secret. (The industry’s ultimate dirty little secret? The meth lab in Ann Landers’s basement.) After all, if advice columnists really wanted to help people we’d write them back personally, not publish their letters in newspapers where their friends and family might recognize them.

But something about your letter, SKM, caused my heart to grow three sizes.

“You could actually help this guy,” said the angel who sits on my right shoulder. “It sounds like they’re made for each other! If you publish his letter, why, Cheryl might see it and contact him!”

“So fucking what?” said the devil who sits on my left shoulder. “They spent a couple of hours together in a noisy club. Big deal. That doesn’t mean they’re made for each other. For all we know, Cheryl has a big Asian boyfriend and tossed this guy’s phone number in the trash on the way out of that club. Even if she doesn’t have a boyfriend, does Cheryl really want to be with a guy too stupid to give the girl of his dreams his actual phone number?”

Both my angel and devil made good points, leaving me with no other choice: I would have to publish your letter, SKM, and risk actually helping someone. Cheryl, if you’re out there, get in touch. And everyone else, please keep those cards and letters coming because, hey, I’m here to help.

I am an attractive college student. Every guy I’ve dated has wanted to get physical way too early in the relationship, before they really got to know me. So last week, as I was reading your article, I was extremely impressed with Good-Looking Guy, who seems to have the same issues I do. I fit his criteria: Beautiful, Deep, Intelligent, Strong, Independent Woman (BDISIW). Reading his letter gave me hope that there really are guys out there wanting more than a quick fuck. Could you put us in touch? This guy sounds awesome. Thanks for your help.

–Sexy and Single


Most people who wrote to comment on Good-Looking Guy’s “problem”–that he was just too deep and sensitive–pointed out that any man who describes himself as deep and sensitive probably isn’t. Likewise, I doubt any woman who describes herself as beautiful, deep, intelligent, strong, and independent is any of those things. People who are truly deep and truly sensitive are usually too truly modest to say so. But, hey, you asked for my help and I’m here to help. If GLG wants to get in touch–if he’s still reading my column after the thrashing I gave him–he can write to you directly.

Today I am reading your column in New Times LA! I find it amusing! I’m trying not to wind up on the streets of LA! Me, my wife, and our three beautiful girls need a place to live. But that’s not your problem! We desperately need a landlord with a two- or three-bedroom apartment in the $600-$800 range. We really do love to work and we are not yet on the streets or on welfare. Can you help?

–Depressed Daddy


My heart aches for your three little girls. If their daddy is writing sex-advice columnists for apartment referrals, well, they’re gonna need all the help they can get. Here’s hoping a bighearted landlord sees this and gets in touch.

I have an interesting question regarding my ejaculation. The issue here is that I can ejaculate over two and a half feet, routinely. Not only that, but the amount of come that I produce is quite large, six or seven “spurts,” as it were. From my limited experience watching porn, it seems like I have an ability that many people do not. What is your take on this, based on your knowledge? And what can I do with this talent? Is there anyone out there interested in my abilities? Feel free to put people in touch with me. Thanks for your help, Dan!

–Anonymous in Toronto


My take? Some guys dribble, some guys spurt. While spurters sometimes dribble (as the result of an underwhelming orgasm), dribblers rarely if ever spurt (no matter how mind-blowing the orgasm). What can you do with this talent? Soil headboards, come on your own face, terrorize house pets. Is there anyone out there interested in your ability? Probably, and you’ll be hearing from them.

Send questions to Savage Love, Chicago Reader, 11 E. Illinois, Chicago 60611 or to letters@savagelove.net.