Celebrity Creeps, Cheats + Secrets of Sword Swallowing - OZY | A Modern Media Company


Because life is too short to spend it zagging when you could have been zigging.

By Eugene S. Robinson

You have sexy questions? Eugene has sexy answers. Write. Now: Eugene@ozy.com


Yes Means Uh-Oh

EUGENE, SIR: I was on tour with a comic celebrity not named Bill Cosby whom everyone loves. One night he asked me and another female comic if we wanted to come up to his room for drinks. We said sure, since we thought it would be a great time. We get to his room and we’re drinking and having a good time, and he says out of the blue, “Do you gals mind if I jerk off?” We laughed, because we thought he was joking, until he pulled it out and started masturbating. At this point, we moved to leave quickly. He stood in front of the door and said, “Not until I finish.” When he finished, he moved and we left. No one believes us, but it happened. The problem is we just can’t agree on what it was that happened. Was it sexual harassment? Predatory? Creepy? A crime? Thoughts? — Name withheld by request

Dear Shecky Greene?: Harassment? Well, I’d be tempted to say no since harassment seems to imply something repeated. But flashers are certainly sexual harassers and you may never see them again after they’ve showed you their privates. But flashers don’t seek consent, which this “comedian” did. But creepy bosses sometime ask before they creep and this does not minimize their creep factor. Predatory seems to imply that he was exploiting a weakness for, in this instance, sexual gain. Less likely, unless you were addicted to going to famous comedians’ rooms, in which case there’s probably another name for it.

But creepy? Yes. A crime? Because he blocked you from leaving the room? Maybe. Because I’m neither an attorney nor a cop, I decided to ask a cop, and he said, “It’s a crime in California. It’s a 236 PC, false imprisonment, and maybe a 314 PC, indecent exposure. But the most important question is, did he have a freckled dick?” Jurisprudential jokes/guesses at the perp’s identity aside, the reality is — and as the father of three daughters I think I can healthily tell you a few things — that the problem is men, and really very little surprising will happen when drinking in someone’s hotel room after 2 o’clock in the morning. 

Sure, he sought consent, but according to my cop friend who was nice enough to share the statute with me, the issue is how the creeped-out individual feels about what’s going on. When you made your move to leave, since you did grant consent to the masturbation issue, his stopping you was a criminal act. Criminality aside, I am going to gamble that no one’s ever written a letter like this about Brad Pitt. And not because Brad Pitt hasn’t not done this either. If you know what I mean.


Minimizing Signs of Secret Sex

EUGENE, SIR: I’ve taken the kids to visit my family. My husband had to work, so he stayed home. While driving my minivan, he found a checkbook in the back. It belongs to my lover. The checkbook is not in my lover’s name; it’s his company’s. In a call tonight, my husband asked me about it. I said I didn’t know where it came from. The kids and I get back in a week and I suspect I am going to need an answer then, if not before. Suggestions?  — Name withheld by request

Dear Busted: I think you’re really asking me what kind of lie and how big and, honestly, what kind of responsible sex columnist would I be if I was advising people, willy-nilly, to lie their way out of life’s crooked narrows? That being said, the first thing you need to do is to stop thinking like a guilty person. There are probably a good handful of reasons how the checkbook got where it was. It dropped out of someone’s soccer bag while kids were being shuttled to a game. Or it dropped out of someone’s back pocket while they were rooting around in the rear like sex hogs. Either one. But no matter which one you choose, know that your choice has to go full state department. Which is to say: Who knows? In fact, “who knows?” is a good multipurpose get-out-of-jail-free card. It’s a philosophical nolo contendere. But that’s just one approach. Confessing all is another and … yeah, I didn’t think so. OK. Good luck.

Open Up + Say Ahhh …

EUGENE, SIR: My girlfriend wants to get better at deep-throating me. But when she tries to do it, she starts choking. She says I should ignore this and keep pushing, but she doesn’t know what it’s like to have someone choking on the end of your penis. Is there something I can use to ease this? Maybe castor oil or olive oil or something?  — Jim

Dear Lord Jim: Well, you’re not going to be able to pour olive or castor oil all over your penis without drawing undue attention. Especially in the supermarket. Or in the bedroom. With her. Which means you’re going to come face to face with her very explicit direction to push it, and push it real good. Which means you’re going to have to trust in what she told you she needs or can handle, because if you don’t, I swear, eventually there’ll be someone who will/can. So get in there and, well, get in there.

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