Why you should care
Because in regards to sex column’ing? No one does it better.
EUGENE, SIR: My 8-month-now boyfriend stayed over the other night. I left him alone there for a bit while I went to get something from my car. When I came back he was looking through a photo album of mine. It was on my bookshelf so not like he had to try hard to find it. There was nothing racy in there, nothing that would make him upset. But he was upset. ”How many Black guys have you dated?” He claimed I was making fetish picks. I claimed he was a racist and if it was any business of his why did it matter whether they were Black or Algerian or Indian? I think he’s being an ass, he thinks I’m not being understanding. An opinion? — Heidi
Dear Swiss Miss: He thinks you’re not being understanding? Of what? He got a peek at, to paraphrase Prince, the other jockeys that were there before him and he got tweaky. Is that what you’re supposed to understand? While it’s easy to understand having a totally irrational reaction to your lover’s previous lovers in the face of them being possibly better looking and better than you, having it settle around race as an annoyance factor certainly opens him up to the accusations thrown his way by you.
But like Chris Rock said about basketball owner racist Donald Sterling, “Who the hell wants their woman around black basketball players?” And basketball was really the least of it here. With Black men still being some sort of “gold” standard for sexual proficiency, untrue or not, your man’s pique is as understandable as if you found out he had been dating starlets.
So forthwith – the 5 Stages of Him Finding Out His Playing Field’s Not Nearly as Level as He Thought It Was – can really be boiled down to just one possible and workable response: tell him to chill the hell out.
Seriously. What is he? 15 years old? But, look, if he does chill out, will you be able to chill out? And by chill out I mean refrain from commentary on how much Kobe Bryant’s got it going on? Or how hot Idris Elba is? Or Kanye West’s intelligence and discernment? A-hem.
Well, you should probably try. While I hate coddling, he might need a little just about now.
HIV + Paranoia
EUGENE, SIR: L is coming up to visit. She’s going to stay with me. We’ve planned this for months. But I just heard through the rumor mill that her most recent ex has been diagnosed with HIV. I have no idea if this is true or not. In passing though I know that she’s allergic to latex and so I suspect no condoms will be involved in whatever happens. This could also be just a false rumor. But I’m a little freaked and unsure of what play to make. — name withheld
Dear Prince of Denmark: You seem to sense that you’re out of your depth here and this is good because you’re out of your depth. While there’s probably no greater buzzkill than bringing up a suspicion of HIV on a first love night, if you don’t bring it up, the fact that you didn’t and the possibility that that’s really what you’re dealing with might be too much to handle. Erection destroying difficulties notwithstanding, and good to think of erection destruction in a more positive light, you’re going to need to deal with this if it’s a reality and not just a rumor.
And yes, there are non-latex condoms that might help, but that’s only part of the picture since the next time you see a dental dam to cover you, and her, for cunnilingus, it will probably be the first time. Also while Peter Duesberg’s claims about HIV not being that hardy of a virus and it being mostly a product of co-factors, commonly called the Duesberg Hypothesis, seems to be a flimsy bet to take when you’re talking about you and the rest of your life, this is all deck chair rearrangement until you figure out how to handle it.
You know what I say? Couch it as ”valor” and say “there are terrible rumors going around about John having HIV…” and va-voom: topic opened. If she doesn’t know it’s news she needs to know. If she does know she can explain to you what you need to hear. But you ever see those buttons that say “silence = death”? Well, yeah, like that. A quick and easy chat could save you heartache immeasurable. So do it.
What’s Once Seen
EUGENE, SIR: I know it’s irrational. That’s not why I am writing. But recent sex with a guy who is good at sex is great. Until I noticed he always wore socks to bed. I got obsessed with seeing his feet and now I wish I hadn’t. They are horrible and I can’t get over it. I don’t think I can have sex with him again. — no name
Dear Cinderella: Most sex columnists would try to talk you out of this. Not me. Physiognomy, while largely discredited, still has me thinking that on a deep genetic level people’s bodies talk to us all the time. But I’m an insane foot fetishist as well and jacked up feet can’t be pussyfooted around. Pedicures notwithstanding, horrible feet will remain so and once seen can’t be unseen. Some would dismiss this as “shallow”. Just not me. Because the calculus is simple: all of eternity looking at crap feet? Oh, heavens no.
GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!!!
Um, hope that helps.