My boyfriend got a so-called boob job as a teenager because he was embarrassed by his “breasts.” What a waste! He has no sensation in his nipples. Oh, what I would give for a little bit of breast on him and the chance to suck a responsive nipple!
He says that if he’d known nipples were a source of erotic pleasure for men, he never would have done it. Now we both feel cheated, but the damage cannot be undone. Men, leave your boobs alone! –Save the Tits
Loss of sensation is a potential boob-job side effect, and any guy thinking about getting his flabby boobs tucked should take that potential loss into consideration.
On a personal note let me just say that I share your pain, STT. My boyfriend, like yours, has no sensation in his tits. I gnaw on his flat, lifeless titties and he looks at me like I’m out of my mind.
But you know what? My boyfriend has never had a boob job. His nips are just naturally lifeless. So whether your boyfriend’s nipples would be more responsive if he’d left his tits alone is open to debate: maybe they would stand up pert and proud if he hadn’t had that boob job, or maybe they would lie there like they do now. Since you’ll never know, why waste time worrying about it? Suck on his other, more responsive, erogenous zones.
My heart almost stopped when I read your phrase describing sperm counts “dropping like Chechnyans.”
Maybe you were looking for a snappy twist on “dropping like flies” and it seemed like a good choice at the time. It turns out to be a chillingly apt way to describe how Chechnyans really are being slaughtered. Except Chechnyans are humans and not flies. The magnitude of the atrocities being carried out in Chechnya is almost incomprehensible. But it is real and happening right now.
What you wrote was cruel. It’s not the work of someone who believes in human rights and dignity. What you wrote was something like writing “dropping like My Lai villagers into a trench” or “like fags in an AIDS ward.” How about “like starving Bosnians in a rape camp”? –Jim H
The day I wrote “dropping like Chechnyans,” Russia was flattening yet another picturesque Caucasian village. As I sat typing I thought, “Jeez, people are dying and this guy is worried about his flabby boobs. Let’s try and keep this in perspective.” And so I substituted “Chechnyans” for “flies.” There’s a big scary world going on outside my dumb, dumb, stupid, dumb advice column and I occasionally like to reference it as I dole out the sex advice. Excuse the fuck out of me.
If any dead Chechnyans read that column and were offended by the reference, I apologize.
This is in response to the girl who enjoys ice cubes in her vagina during sex. She asked if it was safe and you said ice was water–of course it’s safe. Well, if the water were clean and pure, of course it would be safe, but unfortunately, all the chemicals that are found in our water (including those found in party ice) which are put there to kill “living organisms” (what the hell are we?) are anything but safe and can have serious long-term effects on our health.
I recently began working with an environmentally conscious company and have learned some disgusting facts about the effects of chlorine on the body. It is one of the leading causes of breast cancer in women, intestinal cancer, skin cancer, blah, blah, blah, etc. Unfortunately, most people aren’t aware of this. I suggest she invest in a water filter treatment system. A good one goes for about $200.
After that, she can ram cubes up her twat for the rest of eternity, I just wouldn’t suggest she do it now. –No Name Please
PS: Bottled water isn’t really an alternative either. It’s not as clean as the media would like us to believe.
Hey, No Name:
I hadn’t realized that bottled water was a media conspiracy. You’ve opened my eyes. Thanks for writing.
As far as tap water goes: I don’t know about you, but I’ll take a little chlorine over a lotta cholera any day.
Regarding premature ejaculation: With the advent of antidepressants that affect serotonin regulation, a wonderful new intervention for premature ejaculation has evolved. One does not have to be depressed to have excellent results with these medications. They work quickly and well. Typically “lasting” time increases from 20 to 60 seconds to 15 to 30 minutes. Please tell Wait to have her boyfriend see a psychiatric nurse practitioner or a psychiatrist about a prescription. She will be glad he did. –A Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner
Personality-altering drugs seem a pretty desperate measure. Wait’s boyfriend might want to try and get on top of his ejaculation problem on his own before getting a lifetime antidepressant prescription. But if all else fails, he could give drugs a shot.
I think you missed a beat (no pun intended) in your advice to LH, who was smacked by her boyfriend.
LH says that she was standing behind her boyfriend, yelling at him, when he turned around and hit her. She doesn’t say what she was yelling.
What the fuck does the obviously out-of-control bitch expect? That she can scream whatever she wants at someone and not expect repercussions? LH ought to get a clue. Any man screaming at another man would expect a violent reaction. What makes her think that she should be treated differently?
You should have told her to learn how to control her rage. Otherwise she can expect to keep getting socked in the face by men and women alike. If she can’t act civil in a relationship, she ought to live alone. –BI
Why didn’t I come down on LH for screaming at her boyfriend? Because a little healthy screaming and yelling, like crying, is good for a relationship: get it out and you’ll feel better. But “socking” your partner is never good, never acceptable, never kosher. That LH lost control verbally does not excuse her boyfriend’s losing control physically. Physical abuse is not an appropriate response to verbal abuse, and in no way is a sock in the jaw the moral equivalent of a little bit of shouting. So LH was screaming–what are the appropriate repercussions? Her boyfriend could’ve screamed right back at her; he could have walked away from her; dumped her; slammed a door in her face; got drunk, stayed out all night and had sex with some floozy. But hit her? No.
I pity the poor fool who winds up in a relationship with you. You’re the one who ought to live alone.
Send questions to Savage Love, Chicago Reader, 11 E. Illinois, Chicago 60611.