Hey, Faggot:

My boyfriend of two years prefers a hand job to intercourse. Although he’s very skilled at “rubbing me the right way,” I find intercourse more satisfying. I’ve expressed this to him, and oftentimes he will fuck me until I climax and then withdraw and ask me to jerk him off. I feel insulted and annoyed. Insulted because his behavior seems antiwoman, and annoyed because when I use my hands it takes forever. I swear I have developed carpal tunnel syndrome from prolonged, frantic wrist action! What is worse is that he likes it when I use some sort of lubrication (Vaseline, hand lotion, etc). Isn’t that what my pussy is for?

Is this behavior at all normal? Is he a freak? Is he gay? Is this antiwoman, or is it understandable? Or do you think I should just accept this part of him and deal?

–Sick of Suckin’

Hey, SOS:

Your boyfriend isn’t gay, he’s hooked on hand jobs. Mouths and pussies (and butts) are not nearly as tight or precise as fists. Many straight young men when they lose their virginity are surprised at just how unlike their old pal the fist a vagina actually is (very unlike), and how unlike Vaseline pussy juice is (ditto). For some breeder boys, it takes time, practice, and not a piddling commitment before their dicks adjust to these new sensations and this fucking business starts clicking. Depending on how old your boyfriend is, the crutch your right hand provides him may be difficult for him to toss aside. It don’t mean he’s gay or antiwoman or a freak–just lazy.

Is he normal? Gee, I dunno–normal is not my particular area of expertise, professionally or personally. All I do know is that a lot of the mail I get from straight people asks me, of all people, if this, that, or the other thing is “normal.” Normal shnormal, kids. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary defines normal as “perpendicular to a tangent at a point of tangency.” Whatever that might mean, it obviously has nothing to do with sex, sexuality, or sexual response.

Hey, Faggot:

I’m an attractive breeder male with a pretty healthy libido. I discovered, sort of by chance (it’s a long story), that I have a sexually submissive side. I put in my years of guilt and shame and have finally come to accept that I’m not a sicko and it’s OK to wear stockings and heels and be spanked, etc. However, when I let myself really feel my submissiveness, I want to act on it so badly it’s painful, and not a good pain.

Considering the number and variety of people in the world, there must be women who would enjoy a man like me, but how many normal, healthy, nonprofessional dominant women are there really? After some years, I got up the courage to place ads and have met a few women, but none were a really good fit. Should I give up? When I try to ignore my submissiveness, it causes me emotional turmoil. When I am in straight relationships, I usually feel unfulfilled and am sometimes impotent because I am not being myself. Boy, what a mess!

Should I just consistently and forever not let myself indulge in this fantasy so that it may eventually go away? Help. –NL

Hey, NL:

There are many, many more kinky men in this world than kinky women. Truly dominant women can have their pick of a rather enormous litter of submissive men. Some, realizing their worth, hang a shingle and go into business for themselves (check out Bitches With Whips, a professional Domina contact magazine). Professionals are very expensive–$200 an hour and up–and most aren’t interested in relationships. Or sex, for that matter. Women interested in domination as a hobby can pretty much write their own tickets: they can answer the most appealing submissive boy ads or suggest dom-sub play to adventurous, if not completely kinky, boyfriends. But guys into being dominated have rather limited options. You can keep trawling the personal ads for that “really good fit,” taking occasional trips to New York or LA or Vancouver to spend an evening with a pro, or, better yet, you can suggest kinky play to the “regular” women you date.

Early in the dating process, calmly state, “I’m pretty darn kinky.” If she freaks, well, better to end it sooner than waste her time on your limp dick later, right? If you’re lucky, she’ll be intrigued or find you attractive enough that she’ll entertain the idea of paddling your panty-clad ass. And who knows, maybe you’ll hit the jackpot. Maybe unbeknownst to you, you’re dating a woman who’s always wanted a submissive boyfriend, or a woman who has a dungeon in her basement. Hell, maybe you’ve already dated half a dozen dominant women who didn’t articulate their desires for fear of scaring you off!

As for your fantasy eventually going away–it ain’t gonna happen. You can’t run away from your dick or the things that make your dick hard. Your dick will slowly drive you out of your stockin’-wearin’ mind until you give it what it wants. And as long as what your dick wants is not abusive or illegal or both, you might as well go over to the dark side. You’re going to have to look longer and harder to find her, but there’s a woman out there for you. She might take Visa, but that’s gotta be better than nothing.

Hey, Faggot:

Three weeks ago, I was at my girlfriend’s apartment taking a shower. The urge to release my pressurized bladder hit me and I dutifully whizzed into the bathtub’s drain. At the same time, my girlfriend tiptoed into the bathroom and, in an attempt to surprise me, jerked open the shower curtain. My urine stream was particularly apparent, as I had been beefing up on B complex. She became incensed when she caught me pissing in her shower. I’ve since not spoken with her.

I ask you this: Is it unreasonable for me to stick to my guns on this one? Am I such a heinous bastard for urinating in the shower? It’s not like I bathed in urine or pissed in her shampoo bottle, but if I’m in the shower and gotta piss, I’m going to point toward the drain and let fly. A little bit of pee-pee never hurt anyone, did it? –Umlar in Ballard

Hey, UIB:

Women have a different relationship with urine than men do. Men break up cigarette butts in urinals, draw in the snow, swing it back and forth, see how high we can piss up into the air before the stream breaks and arcs into the toilet bowl: for us, piss is a toy. Women have less control. They must squat or foul themselves: urine is not a toy, and pee time is not playtime, it’s think time. Women piss and ponder, men piss and play–and herein lies the essential mystery of the difference between the sexes.

Deprived of a festive relationship with piss, women are likelier to be squeamish about their own and others’ urine. Hence the shower freak-out. As for the dispute, I’m on the girlfriend’s side. There ain’t nothing wrong with peeing in the tub as far as I’m concerned, but it’s her bathtub. Hers–not yours, not mine. An apology is in order, and a solemn promise never, ever to pee in her bathtub again. Follow up your promise with a sincere and heartfelt effort not to get caught the next time you pee in her bathtub–lock the door, face the wall, and lay off the B complex.

Send questions to Savage Love, Chicago Reader, 11 E. Illinois, Chicago 60611.