By Jesse Marx
By Chris Parker
By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
Hey, Everybody: By now you've no doubt heard the news that America's favorite crystal-meth-snorting, male-escort-blowing evangelical Christian pastor is cured! While 99.9 percent of wannabe ex-gays struggle to overcome their homosexuality for decades, Ted Haggard was pronounced "completely heterosexual" after just 21 days of counseling! Don't you just love a happy ending?
I'd love to devote a whole column to Haggard—there's just so much to process. For instance, according to the ministers overseeing Haggard's treatment, Ted was able to "discover" his complete heterosexuality so quickly because his homosexual activity was never "constant." By that standard I've been completely heterosexual since, gee, about 10 minutes after 2:00 this morning.
Yippee! I'm completely heterosexual, too! And as everyone knows, once you're completely heterosexual all your troubles are over. Just ask San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom.
But that's all the space I can waste on that yam-faced faggot. Because it's Valentine's Day—or it just was, depending on when you're reading this—and to counter the impression that fetishes and impulsive hookups always lead to conflict and heartache, I asked vanilla types contentedly partnered with kinky motherfuckers and vice versa, along with anyone who ever took a chance on an anonymous piece of ass and wound up marrying it, to send me their happy-endings stories. In honor of Ted Haggard, this week's happy endings are completely heterosexual.
Happy Valentine's Day.
I met an awesome guy by taking a chance and asking a complete stranger for his phone number. After three weeks of dating Mr. Perfect, we had the sex conversation. I've always been GGG, but I had limits: no piss, poop, blood, kids, or animals. Then I found out Mr. Perfect likes to pee his pants and wanted me to do it with him. I gave it some thought, decided it was harmless, and that I was willing to try it. It's taken some getting used to, but I'm actually starting to enjoy peeing my pants. More importantly, I get off on the fact that he gets off on it so much. It's been seven months and we are still completely retarded for each other.
Pee Is Sorta Sexy
I'm a straight male crossdressing sissy and even though it was one of the hardest things I've ever done, I told my wife about it before we had a lot invested in the relationship. We've been together five years and I never imagined being this happy. I blog about our life at sweatshopsissy.wordpress.com
Sweat Shop Sissy
I was a stripper who spent an awful lot of time trying to make the other girls understand that the man of their dreams was NOT going to be tucking dollar bills into their G-strings at the club. Then one night I was on stage, boobs in the breeze, when this guy walked in. I froze. When I recovered enough to finish my set, I went and bought the guy a drink. Wow, he was actually nice—and smart and funny! And hot! He bought a VIP dance and I actually came just dancing for him. I refused to go out with him out of sheer terror of the chemistry, but he hung in there—despite his friends telling him the girl of his dreams was NOT hanging upside down topless from a brass pole! We went on our first date two months later, much to the amusement of my cohorts, who took great glee in taunting me. We married two years later. Our sixth wedding anniversary was in January.
Long Odds Paid Off
I was on the anal-sex channel on IRC, telling everyone about the webcam I had set up at work to watch over the crack alley across the street. This woman immediately messaged me and asked, "You work at —, don't you? I used to work there, too! I know that crack alley!"
She invited me out to a bar across the street and we started dating shortly after that. Well, it turned out that not only was she into anal sex, but pegging as well. We've been the very model of what it means to be GGG. I introduced her to BDSM; she introduced me to group sex. We've been married for three years now and had our first kid on December 3.
We Owe It All To Crack Alley
This is the true confession of a vanilla girl (VG) who took a chance on a kinky boy (KB).
I was a shy, 18-year-old virgin. KB was wise enough to let out his kinky side a little at a time, starting with new positions. (I actually thought missionary was the only physically possible way to have sex.) Over three years, he revealed a laundry list of kinks: BDSM, swinging, anal, earning money by homosexual favors, and three- (or more) ways. Each revelation left me wondering what I was getting into, but I always jumped in and never had any regrets. We eventually got married over the protests of everyone we knew.
Seventeen years later, we are proud parents and still very much in love. While writing this, I asked KB why he took a chance on a VG. I had always assumed he enjoyed corrupting my innocence. But he said that I was a steadying force in his wild life, and that he would have died young doing something too risky if he didn't find a way to settle down. Call me crazy, but I find his answer romantic.