Fickle Fingers, Looking for Love + Not-So-Sexy Swaps - OZY | A Modern Media Company

Fickle Fingers, Looking for Love + Not-So-Sexy Swaps

Fickle Fingers, Looking for Love + Not-So-Sexy Swaps

By Eugene S. Robinson


Because while there are some games you can afford to lose, sex is no game.

By Eugene S. Robinson

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

Bi Trials

EUGENE, SIR: I’m a bi kid in my mid-teens and I have a problem with masturbation. Unless I finger myself, I can’t get off in any less than 1.5 hours. I’m worried that when my next girlfriend and I start going at it, I might not be satisfied with her alone. How can I curb this, if that’s even possible? — Name withheld by request

Dear Ace In the Hole: You ask almost the right question without asking the (almost) most essential one: Is there a reason you SHOULD curb it? When you say “finger myself,” I’m assuming you mean your anus — correct me if I am wrong — and I assume you’re also anticipating a less than positive reception when you do so. In regards to the latter assumption, I’d say that’s a safe bet, knowing how, um, sensitive many are about sex. But like any good entertainer, you just have to take the temperature of the room before you bust loose with much of what you might want to bust loose with. 

Mostly because some kinds of surprises are hated by some kinds of people and you doing a Jack Horner in the middle of some sweet sex scene might tax those people. Got it? So, how do you push your play on the right audience and finger your way to your heart and various other body parts’ content? Preannounce. At dinner or in some nonsexual situation, out yourself, loudly and mightily. “Yeah. Some lovers have a hard time with my flow.…”

“What do you mean?”

“Weeellll…” And then, BOOM! Bust loose with your buttistics!

It might feel a skosh awkward at first, but you’ve got to know it’s probably a whole hell of a lot less awkward than sitting on the bed while your partner runs out of the room screaming. Give it a try. And you can thank us later. After you wash your hands.


Desperately Seeking Succor

EUGENE, SIR: I need some help with finding a girlfriend whom I can spend time with. — Alvin Hazelwood

Dear AH: Biologically, this is the easiest lift ever. I mean, you want to see a heavy lift? Try to sell insurance. An easy lift? Finding someone with a biological imperative to meet and mate, since you yourself also happen to have a biological imperative to meet and mate. The issue is more where you choose to exercise this imperative. Bars? Yoga class? Coachella? Well, just about anywhere, really, since it’s been discovered that people will pay for what in the sales business are called “hot leads.” Be those leads via Tinder, Grindr, JDate or any of the other dating apps that let you save HUGE amounts of time what with all of their target marketing magic. More help than that would make me a pimp. Which I am not. Unless you’re paying. A lot.

Swap Stall

EUGENE, SIR: I had been suggesting to my husband that we open our relationship up to enjoying spending time with others. At first he balked at the idea and I dropped it. Then I be … Open relationship turned into an almost divorce. — M. Brown

Dear Mrs. Charlie: For those who are convinced that “Sex With Eugene” queries are populated with author-directed fantasies in the absence of real seekers of succor, to borrow a word from the previous headline, you have exhibit A: Mrs. Brown’s letter. It came in just how it is above. So, like a 911 operator, I am left to assume that she sent it before she finished it and, well, I owe it to her intent to at least try to answer kind of, sort of whatever it is that I think she was asking. Yeah. Tough day at the office.

Anyway, from what I can make out, Mrs. B, responding to a perception that her husband was dissatisfied or to a very real understanding that she herself was dissatisfied, decided to try to open things up. A nice opening gambit if dissatisfaction action is the game we’re naming, since even if they don’t want to open things up, this is most certainly a signal that the couple in question must begin discussing why. After the initial attempt to spark a dialogue by introducing the possibility of non-spousal penis and the husband’s balking, Mrs. B retreats. 

Then? Well, then something opened and they almost divorced and we’re left to assume that it had everything to do with the opening. What happened? Well, what COULD have happened? The rigors of outside action being what they are, it’s quite easy to imagine that the difficult passage became only more so when one or both of them returned home one night with their underwear on backward and missing a sock. 

And Mrs. B’s query? Is there a way to come home half dressed and remain married? Unknown, but what IS known? That it’s tough playing in the extracurricular yard. Just to be on the safe side, this must be actively discussed over and over again, so much so that having sex with non-spousal others is a less painful option than discussing it ONE MORE TIME. Not a great solution, but a decent half measure and a good college try at answering an unasked question.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to get a drink.

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