February 14, 2007
Hey, everybody: By now, you've no doubt heard the news that America's favorite crystal-meth-snorting, male-escort-blowing evangelical Christian pastor is cured! While 99.9 percent of wannabe ex-gays struggle for decades to overcome their homosexuality, Ted Haggard was pronounced "completely heterosexual" after just 21 days of counseling! Don't you just love a happy ending?
I'd love to devote a whole column to Haggard—there's just so much to process. For instance, according to the ministers overseeing Haggard's treatment, Ted was able to "discover" his complete heterosexuality so quickly because his homosexual activity was never "constant." By that standard, I've been completely heterosexual since, gee, about 10 minutes after 2:00 this morning.
Yippee! I'm completely heterosexual, too! And as everyone knows, once you're completely heterosexual, all your troubles are over. Just ask San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom.
But that's all the space I can waste on that yam-faced faggot. Because it's Valentine's Day—or it just was, depending on when you're reading this—and to counter the impression that fetishes and impulsive hookups always lead to conflict and heartache, I asked vanilla types contentedly partnered with kinky motherfuckers and vice versa, along with anyone who ever took a chance on an anonymous piece of ass and wound up marrying it, to send me their happy-endings stories. In honor of Ted Haggard, this week's happy endings are completely heterosexual. Happy Valentine's Day.
I met an awesome guy by taking a chance and asking a complete stranger for his phone number. After three weeks of dating Mr. Perfect, we had the sex conversation. I've always been GGG, but I had limits: no piss, poop, blood, kids, or animals. Then I found out Mr. Perfect likes to pee his pants, and wanted me to do it with him. I gave it some thought, decided it was harmless, and that I was willing to try it. It's taken some getting used to, but I'm actually starting to enjoy peeing my pants. More importantly, I get off on the fact that he gets off on it so much. It's been seven months, and we are still completely retarded for each other.
Pee Is Sorta Sexy
I'm a straight male cross-dressing sissy, and even though it was one of the hardest things I've ever done, I told my wife about it before we had a lot invested in the relationship. We've been together five years, and I never imagined being this happy. I blog about our life at sweatshopsissy.wordpress.com.
Sweat Shop Sissy
I was a stripper who spent an awful lot of time trying to make the other girls understand that the man of their dreams was NOT going to be tucking dollar bills into their G-strings at the club. Then one night I was on stage, boobs in the breeze, when this guy walked in. I froze. When I recovered enough to finish my set, I went and bought the guy a drink. Wow, he was actually nice—and smart and funny! And hot! He bought a VIP dance, and I actually came just dancing for him. I refused to go out with him out of sheer terror of the chemistry, but he hung in there—despite his friends telling him the girl of his dreams was NOT hanging upside down topless from a brass pole! We went on our first date two months later, much to the amusement of my cohorts, who took great glee in taunting me. We married two years later. Our sixth wedding anniversary was in January.