Guys Named John, Post-Marriage Mojo + Our Gang - OZY | A Modern Media Company

Guys Named John, Post-Marriage Mojo + Our Gang

Guys Named John, Post-Marriage Mojo + Our Gang

By Eugene S. Robinson


Because Eugene couldn’t screw things up any worse than you already have.

By Eugene S. Robinson

Happy With the Hooking

EUGENE, SIR: Kind of a curious question, but will ask anyway since you asked me to ask. Does sex with prostitutes count? I make plenty of money, so my family is not suffering if every now and then I go to one. With two kids and a demanding work schedule my wife is too tired sometimes. My commute is a long one, and spending a brief half an hour doesn’t even seem like something I should hide and it puts me on the highway home at just about the right time. I don’t know these women’s names. I don’t email them afterward. Not going to dinner with them. When I get home I am happy, and that seems to me to be a win-win all around.

I’m not stupid enough to actually tell my wife about this but I don’t like the idea that people think I am a piece of shit for doing what seems to be pretty natural to me.  — Like Going To Get My Haircut

Dear Piece of Shit:

Haha….sorry, couldn’t resist. Listen…first of all I need to say that there’s probably nothing wrong with having sexual contact with a woman who makes her freely chosen living having sexual contact with men who pay to have sexual contact with her. But with all of your chatter about counting it seems to me that this is a proverbial cake-and-eating-it-too scenario. That is: you having the cake and eating it in the 30 minutes before you jump back on the highway and head home.

In bed


Look, go to prostitutes all you want, G-d love you, but don’t try to get me to sign on to this being OK assuming I’ll send you on your hooker-humping, safe-sex (I hope) ways unburdened of any overweening guilt for lying to your wife like a freaking rug. While I’m not stupid enough to suggest that you actually tell her about this, I am smart enough to be able to see that you should either make your peace with being a married piece of shit who lies about going to hookers (also known as the kind of johns that hookers HATE, that is: married ones) or at the very least know that your contortions to preserve the idea that you’re a good guy are really just barking up the wrong tree.

But hey, no judgement. Just a little real politik. And a call for you to just embrace the real you and stop with the moral gymnastics. Be the best john you can be. See it. Be it. Live it. Without apology. From me to you, sir. 


Post-Marriage Sex Might

EUGENE, SIR: Salü! I just moved out of a 14-year marriage and am now a single father (my 9 year old is living with me) who has recently started dating again and getting back into touch with his libido after years of dysfunctional sexual relations at home. Took 2 months of living alone to get back in touch with myself, during which I had no desire to have contact with women at all. Then in February I realized I was horny. It took me another 2 weeks to make the mental leap: I would now have to re-enter the Erotic Octagon after having a 17-year break of actively seeking a sexual partner. So my question is two-fold: What makes a man a good lover? Does practice make perfect? Is there such a thing as natural talent? And how much mystery, honesty, egoism, and exclusivity is good for romantic relationships? 

 — Roscoe Roseannadanna

Dear Mr. P. Coltrane:

What makes a man a good lover?!? Fourteen years in no-sex jail confused you that much? Or was it just that you never got within striking distance of an answer even before then? Make no nevermind. According to noted female sexyologist Dr. Joyce Brothers, a good male lover does one thing and one thing consistently well: be rich.

Ok, ok…Dr. Brothers never really said that and I apologize for cheapening the discourse here by taking your query less than seriously but spending a lot of time meditating over an answer to your question is the road to madness since answers here are about as elusive as elusive can get: some partners will claim you a god for great oral skills, some will bitterly complain that you’re not skilled enough. Some will complain to their friends that your sword stylistics are “okay…I guess” while others will sing your praises.

Your best bet? Wear clean shirts, wash and shave often, listen, note that statistically most acts of coitus have an average elapsed meantime of 11 minutes, agree to everything, avoid saying anything stupid. DONE!

The rest of your questions regarding the Allen Iverson-esque confusion over practice making perfect, naturals existing in nature, and what’s good of how much for romantic relationships? In short order: not necessarily, yes, as I have amply proved in any number of several hundred different occasions, and just enough. 

Thanks for coming. 

One, Not Enough, 1000 Not Too Many

EUGENE, SIR: My girlfriend and I were invited to an orgy with five other couples but when we showed up all of the other women had chickened out. So we figured we’d stay for a drink and then quickly exit but one thing led to another and we stayed for longer than a drink. We’ve been arguing since then since it had not been my plan to take my girlfriend to a gangbang though that’s what happened. She says it was a group sex party and group sex happened and that I’m being a baby for being upset here. I just can’t believe I am being unreasonable. Am I? – Pissed Off

Dear OMG:

Oh. My man. Under the best of circumstances group scenes with a significant other have to be heavily contemplated if you’re not to the manner born. Think about it and every iteration of it before you go. Imagine you and her and all of your best friends. Imagine that they are better than you, bigger and richer as well. Imagine that she will encounter pleasure immeasurable. While? While you try to keep up and wonder how this is going to play back at the homestead when she’s next up against what you’re using for a penis. And if all of this doesn’t give you pause you are indeed to the manner born and our sex column confab is closed before it’s begun. 

But you are not and so here we are. 

First off: you’re not being unreasonable. If you go to the grocery store and ask for toilet paper and they give you sandpaper you’d have the right to be a little bit upset. You expected that the two of you would be sharing together a panoply of penis and punanny in an undifferentiated mass of flesh and pleasure. That’s what the two of you bought and paid for. What you got instead was a place in line to enjoy a woman you had been enjoying alone just fine.

What I imagine is her sophistry around the issue of “well we knew I’d be penis-full by the end of the evening and I was so what’s the problem?” eases by the fact that your role had been reduced from a fully equal participant with the expectation of some sort of reasonable and shared erotic experience to … Number 4. 

Which is a drag. But you need to be thinking “next steps” here and maybe even get beyond the need to have her validate your upset. My advice? If you can get those burned images in your head out of your head? Move on through and past it and avoid all such-like parties in the future without texted pics of participants ON SITE. Holding a newspaper. With a current date showing.

Cover Image by Kasia Meow

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