You Have Filthy, Sexy Questions? We Have Sexy, Filthy Answers! - OZY | A Modern Media Company


Because me telling you how to do it is probably better than me showing you how to do it.

By Eugene S. Robinson

Do you know what time it is?

We said: Do you know what time it is? 

Sexy time.

That’s right. It’s time for a long, hard and deep examination of all the sexual foibles, follies, questions and queries you’re way too embarrassed to ask anyone except this completely untrained, nonmedical, professional bloviator. A free-advice giver who, while he has actually had sex at least once himself, primarily distinguishes himself by being unflappable, totally unfamiliar with shame and unlikely to bullshit you.

…frank discussions among adult humans, in full consideration of the entire spectrum of legal human sexual experiences…

Which is more than you can probably say about some 90 percent of the people you know.

So forthwith, witness the birth of Sex With Eugene. We fully anticipate that you all will love Sex With Eugene. Like everyone else who loves Sex With Eugene. And if we don’t stop amusing ourselves with the title, we’re liable to go blind. 

Yup, frank discussions among adult humans, in full consideration of the entire spectrum of legal human sexual experiences and, while certain publishing niceties may be upheld, for the most part this is not for the squeamish. Or people who can’t read. Or take jokes.

Questions thus far have come in from our friends over the transom and across social networks, and you too are invited to send your queries straight to dude, himself. Which is to say we look forward to getting very, very, very personal.

Disclaimer for people looking to get their own burning, itching, weeping problems solved: This is not medically functional advice!

Wrangling the Strangle

EUGENE, SIR: You might be the ideal mixed-career candidate to answer this one: I am a single, non-monogamous hetero woman, and have noticed over the last six years or so that new lovers are often inclined to enact some degree of a strangling gesture during sex. It’s not a problem — I’m just wondering why it happens so often now, as it rarely used to happen, even in long-term relationships that involved plenty of dom/sub play and general experimentation.

The neck-holder men have been of mixed ages, backgrounds, characters and lover styles, and I don’t think I’m sending any new submission message. Most of them have done it during our very first romp — so the degrees of pre-choke familiarity/intimacy have been mostly low. I’d normally just ask them about their behavior, but all have been brief flings that didn’t go past one or a few unions.

Recently, a would-be 30-year-old lover (younger than I am) claimed that 90 percent of all women love to be choked. He suggested that this stat was based on his own empirical evidence.

My theory behind the increase is that the Internet has made erotic asphyxiation common knowledge, and that many are doing it because they’ve been told that women love it at orgasm — but don’t really know how to do it. Most wrap a hand or two around the throat without ever pressing too much. Possibly they are seeking my encouragement to go tighter, which I have yet to offer someone new. I am still flummoxed by the increase.

Any insight?

— Choked and Confused

Dear C&C Music Factory:

You know how one time, you went to school and you had that cool leather jacket with some fringe on it, and you thought — rightly so — that you looked totally badass? And then a few weeks later, some other kid came in wearing the same thing, trying to steal your badassitude? And remember how you crushed his head with a rock and buried him under some leaves and…

Sorry. Weird digression. The point is: Like anthropologist René Girard said in Violence and the Sacred, all desire is mimetic. Which is to say: We’re all hopeless copycats.

…as thrilling and new as leather jackets with fringe in 2014.

So follow me here: Dude saw something in a movie, heard someone somewhere who extolled the virtues of “rough sex,” or just fell into a pop culture pornhole that showed people doing something seemingly, daringly transgressive — like choking their partners — and voilà: a new bedroom meme was made.

But just because David Carradine, Michael Hutchence and a few other figures of note were found naked in closets with their penises in their fists and belts around their necks doesn’t mean that this is going to work for everyone (as it indeed did not work for them), or even that getting a second party to do the choking is a decent workaround. In fact, I think it has been scientifically proven that, while your one lover claimed that 90 percent of women love to be choked, we’ve found that suchlike claims are largely 100 percent bullshit. 

Which is to say: Your lovers’ chokes are jokes, and probably feel to you about as thrilling and new as leather jackets with fringe in 2014. Hence your letter, and your sneaking suspicion that this seemingly less-than-inspired behavior has some weird root cause and you simply failed to get the memo. (It must have gone around while your sleeping, non-choked neck was inclined in sweet repose.)

While we can’t help the powers of your lovers’ imaginations, we can help you to remember: Choking safely and well is totally reliant on a partner who is in control and paying attention, even if sex is sometimes all about lack of control and attention.

So be careful when you finally find someone sensible enough to make like goldilocks and choke you just right. And follow your instincts here — reserve this play for those you know well enough to trust. Which probably, in all likelihood, rules me out.

Cover Image by Kasia Meow


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