Straight Eye for the Queer Guy - OZY | A Modern Media Company

Straight Eye for the Queer Guy

Straight Eye for the Queer Guy

By Eugene S. Robinson


Because bad sex is for bad people.

By Eugene S. Robinson

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

Hysterectomies + Hysteria

EUGENE, SIR: My wife and I have not had sex for more than two years. After she had our last child, she had a hysterectomy. Our sex life has been downhill since then, but it was great before. We have been married for 26 years, but she says it hurts to have sex with me. I won’t ever cheat on her. Any advice? — Don S.

Dear Don: There are several different types of hysterectomies. While I don’t know which kind your wife had, I do know that if her cervix was also removed, well, that has been connected to sex problems post-surgery. Also, dryness, depression and vaginal collapse or prolapse can contribute to pain and consequently an unwillingness to have sex. There are cases of women who, unburdened by periods and pregnancy concerns, have a renewed license for lust, but the pessimist in me is thinking that they are the minority. I’m not a pessimist by nature, though, but a realist, and the reality of it is we live in a universe of the known but unknowable, and our lives, as they stand, are finite in measure.

By which I mean no one’s going to have great sex forever. Partially because you will not have an infinite number of erections. This we know. What we don’t know? Exactly how many erections you will have. You can find medical authorities who will say keep trying, that there are solutions — and there may be — but on Planet Eugene, there may also not be, so prepare for that. With both heart and head full of patience. The good news is it sounds like you’re still in love. So you’re at least halfway there. In time, your wife may be as well, and perhaps her interest in the fleshier side of things will return. If they do? Be prepared. If they don’t? Well, you had a good run.

Straight Eye for the Queer Guy

EUGENE, SIR: My gay friend has been dating with the intention of meeting a possible life partner, which clearly has different criteria than just a hookup. Lately he has this idea that if it’s an “OK” date, with no immediate chemistry, that he should consider a second date, as if he might be missing some hidden gem. I tell him, “Trust your instincts, wish Mr. OK the best and move on to the next.” That’s been my personal experience, and I’m pretty sure it’s how straight guys operate, right? Is there any science or Eugeneism to back this up? — The Gal Pal

Dear Gallipoli: Science?!? There are more things in heaven and earth than you’ll find in your books of science, Doctor! But, as I reference above, time for those of us not made of spirit and mist is finite. So if you’re spending your time hoping the OK gets better, think about how often the good gets GREAT. Not nearly as often as many of us would like. My mother said it best when she said, “Your first mind is your better mind,” and given that most of us not in prison are not in prison and have choices, we should do our damnedest to exercise those choices. Wasting time with a fella who is just OK is pointless. Unless that “OK” involves a very large penis. Then all bets may be off. Hope this helps.

Only the Lonely

EUGENE, SIR: I recently broke up with a girl I’d been dating for the past two years, and I can’t shake how I feel about her. I want to spend time with her; I keep feeling like the breakup was just a bad dream. I’m seeing a counselor about this and some other issues, but any advice would be good. — Richard McHale

Dear McHale’s Navy: Sorry for your loss, sir. Annnd the sympathy and sympathizing stops right about there. Look, they say the emotional duress you endure during a breakup is significant enough that the body doesn’t register it’s coming from your head/heart, with the result that your biochemical reaction is largely akin to what happens when, for example, you’re beaten with a stick. So that’s where you are now, a place that is dark and covered in the mists of regret and remembrance. You’ll rerun the I-said-she-said dailies repeatedly in your head, along with the I-meant-she-meant slop. You’ll do this for a few weeks, or if you’re a real obsessive, years.

In the meantime, what you’re missing while obsessing over this tree is the vast forest of possibility that’s screaming at you what your future self will know beyond a shadow of a doubt: There are a million of her and just one of you. Or at least that’s how you should be thinking about your prospects. We’re all stars of our own dramas, and while it might be amusing for a certain period of time to be singing the sorrows of young Werther, the reality of it is you need to get back to leading-man status and quick. 

The good news is, when you’re young you’ll do this for a longer time than you will when you’re older. As you get older (see above re: finiteness of time)? It’s two weeks of crying, drinking and asking strangers, “What the HELL YOU LOOKING AT?!?” From which you’ll wake up one day, maybe Monday, and you’ll have forgotten her name, probably along with the name of the person in bed with you. Good luck with all of that, brother. It sucks now, but it won’t forever.

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