February 10, 2010

A few years before my wife and I met, she made porn with her boyfriend at the time. He intended to start a pay-per-view website but never launched it. I was a bit upset when she told me, but then I remembered that I enjoy porn, and the idea of seeing the hottest woman I’ve ever met—and am now married to—doing porn might be really enjoyable, even though I wouldn’t want her sleeping with anyone else now.

I realize that to get these tapes, I’d have to contact the ex, and that might be a bad idea. What do you think?

Torn Over Porn

Um… what does she think? The wife? Have you asked her? Does she want you to see the porn she made with her ex? Does she want to have any contact—even if you handle the negotiations—with her ex?

If she’s cool with it, and thinks the ex will be cool with it, by all means ask for the tapes. But hold on to my e-mail address, TOP, just in case her ex is bigger than you, appears to be better in bed, clearly provided your girlfriend with more shattering orgasms, etc., and you have a careful-what-you-wish-for/no-one-could’ve-predicted meltdown and need someone to talk you off the ledge.

Prefers Really Original Sex

There are no rules in an illegal and unregulated marketplace, PROS, although I’m not sure how “truth in packaging” provisions could be enforced if prostitution were legal and regulated. So caveat emptor, boys, and try to mix a little empathy in with your emptoring. Many TS sex workers are engaged in what social workers call “survival prostitution”—they’re marginalized, they don’t have familial or societal support, and they’re selling sex to keep roofs over their heads—so they’re not duping you for shits and giggles.

And there are worse things than accidentally sticking your dick in a woman who was born into a man’s body, PROS. Did you catch Charlize Theron’s Academy Award-winning performance in Monster?

Equal Rights In Coitus

Hearing about the wife’s solo adventures gives you a boner—that is what you meant by “I enjoy her having her own experiences,” right?—while the prospect of your solo adventures has the opposite effect on the wife, i.e., the thought doesn’t give her a girl-boner. So while you rightly perceive her solo adventuring as unfair, ERIC, there’s something in those solo adventures for you, i.e., lots of boy-boners, while there’s nothing in your proposed solo adventures for her, i.e., no girl-boners.

Now life isn’t fair, as I hope your mama warned you, and in an open relationship, life’s unfairness can manifest itself in one partner agreeing to less freedom of action in order to accommodate the other’s insecurities, irrationalities, insanities, etc. If the unfairness of it all is unacceptable to you, ERIC, accept your wife’s offer to terminate her solo adventures. Hopefully she’ll miss them as much as you will, and in short order she’ll agree to your having solo adventures in order to start having her own again.

As a bisexual woman myself, I find it pathetic that this guy can’t suck it up and tell his girlfriend that he’s interested in having sex with men. As you’ve said to other people in similar situations, he’s better off telling his girlfriend the truth and seeing if she’s into the idea of threesomes or polyamory or what have you. Maybe she’s completely GGG for the whole thing—or maybe she’d rather not be used by two liars looking to scratch an itch.

Flippant Answer Isn’t Legit

They can’t all be gems, FAIL, and that response sucked balls. Consider it withdrawn. And for the record: Yes to honesty, yes to the dude telling his girlfriend he’s bi, and yes to angry readers calling me on my fails, FAIL. My response was intended to be tongue-in-cheek, but it was head-in-ass. My apologies.

Hoping Every Lovely Little Oscar Gets Oiled Really Good Evoking Orgasms Up Starbutts

First, a programming note: When Savage Love readers noticed that I was turning sign-offs into acronyms to save space, they began crafting sign-offs that resulted in amusing and/or revealing acronyms, e.g., PROS, ERIC, FAIL. But long sign-offs, even if they make for terrific acronyms, don’t save space. So limit your creative sign-off to no more than five or six letters, dear readers, if you want to see it in print. (I’m making an exception for HELLOGORGEOUS for reasons that will be immediately apparent to anyone who’s ever had a cock in his pants and his mouth simultaneously.)

Okay, HELLOGORGEOUS, your letter arrived on the day I had the distinct pleasure/honor of hanging out with a couple of people who just so happen to have four—four!—Oscars on a shelf in their offices. Spooky! They laughed when I showed them your letter. Not because they had fucked themselves with their Oscars, HELLOGORGEOUS, but because the first thing they observed about their Oscars was that they were, indeed, “shaped just right.” (I thought the shoulders were a bit wide, personally, but the base was flared, which is what you want with an insertion toy.)

I didn’t press them on whether they had confirmed their suspicions—we’d only just met—but rest assured, HELLOGORGEOUS, if it can be stuffed in someone’s ass and/or twat, however inadvisable said stuffing might be, someone somewhere has shoved the thing—Coke bottle, Oscar statuette, Scott Brown action figure—into an ass and/or twat.