Going Back to Your Wife When Your Lover Dies
WHY YOU SHOULD CARE
Because if not everyone can be great, then good is not really such a bad second choice.
By Eugene S. Robinson
You have sexy questions? Eugene has sexy answers. Write. Now: Eugene@ozy.com
The Horror. The Horror.
EUGENE, SIR: This past summer I fell in love with the woman of my dreams. We were perfect for each other. The problem? We were both married. Me, 19 years. Her, 18. We both love our kids and didn’t want to hurt them. But we were lost as to what to do. We planned on telling our spouses soon and letting the chips fall where they may, but you’ll notice I’m using the past tense for everything. You see, she was killed in a car accident on Christmas Eve. I was home with my family when I got the news. I’m devastated. Yet I have nowhere to turn. Is there anywhere I can turn for advice or healing? —Name Withheld by Request
Dear Sorrow Unbridled: We can call this one “Where the Jokes Stop.” My condolences, sir. Short answer: yes! There are group-therapy sessions and places for people dealing with loss. But it’s going to be hard to get there if you haven’t explained why you’re going to a spouse who may not be in the know. Still, if you can get away, please seek counseling. Lots of jobs offer counseling as a benefit — if you can do this during work hours? Perfect.
The deepest kind of suffering is the kind around certain elements of “unknowing.” Would it have worked out? You’ll never know. And not knowing, how do you make sense of where you are now? Leaving might be pointless, outside of a possible homage to your dear departed. Staying would please your kids, who, at the very least, don’t have to deal with the untimely death of their parent. But what do you do with your relationship? Confessing seems pointless and hurtful now. Not confessing seems to make the most amount of sense, but this is not a weight you need to carry alone. Just pick who helps you carry it carefully. And in the rare case of you being a kind of “just go alone” guy, I’d recommend the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. It will explain the stages of grief and depression, and I’d not be telling the truth if I didn’t say it’s my go-to diagnostic guide for head issues.
But you are in an unenviable position. Hang in there.
Johnny? Are You Queer?
EUGENE, SIR: Is my boyfriend gay? Or is he just not into me? Slept next to him for a month and he never wanted to have sex. On and off again relationship for six years. He says he doesn’t like to give oral sex but likes blowjobs. Our sex was always the best ever, but the best way for him to have an orgasm, a fast one, is when we do it doggy style. He always orgasms; it’s just quicker doggy style. We even do kinky sex sometimes, but every time we stop having sex, that’s when he says he’s not wanting to be in a relationship. The sex break always ends up in breakup or a timeout. My friends say he’s gay. I’ve never been with a man who sleeps next to me for weeks or a month at a time who doesn’t want to have sex with me, nor in six years has he ever wanted to eat me out!
He loves to cook, he loves to sing and the way he moves and talks is gay and he has tried some anal intercourse. Usually we’ve tried when I’m on my stomach. I won’t go for that, but these are some of the reasons my friends think he’s gay. What’s wrong with him? We are still friends who just talk. —DC
Dear AC: You know what would make your boyfriend gay? A marked preference for penis. That’s probably the only reliable indicator if that’s what you’re looking for. However, you really shouldn’t have to look any further than six years of no oral sex. Whether he is gay is much less of an issue than the fact that your sex life sucks. And it’s not his fault. You put up with it. Making it, most probably, your fault. You can chat with him all you want while being in a relationship with someone who actually enjoys having sex with you. Which he clearly doesn’t. Get out, get gone and use your energies for something sensible. Like? Like a man who likes giving oral sex and gives it well.
Fun With Fluids
EUGENE, SIR: We’re edgy in our sex play. But for the last while I have been less so. He tells me I’m a prude, but he’s the one who won’t kiss me after fluid play. It’s his semen and sometimes his urine. Am I wrong for saying that refusing to kiss me afterward is totally unsexy? —Cooties?
Dear Cootie Patootie: Transgression is a funny thing. While overstepping what seems to be the bounds of comfortably correct behaviors covers — in your instance — semen and urine on your face (I assume it’s your face we’re talking about, since we’re talking about kissing, though it dawns on me that this doesn’t have to be the case at all), it screeches to a halt at the boundary line of his lips. I’d say “strange” but not that strange, really, as it probably lessens the power of the transgressive to weight the semen and urine the same way you would no-semen and no-urine.
So whether he’s acting or not acting, his aversion to kissing your face after he’s covered it with semen and/or urine is both painfully predictable and, yes, not sexy. Even more, it’s a sign that he’s very possibly playing in a league he’s not quite ready for. So, why not try the nastiest thing of all? The next time it happens, demand he kiss you.
If he refuses, tell him his response is very possibly the least sexy one you can think of, and ask if he thinks it’s possible that this will ever yield good, positive, long-term results. You should say the above while you’re getting dressed. Right before you go, which will immediately precede your leaving. As in: leaving leaving. Life’s too short for this foolishness.