By Jesse Marx
By Chris Parker
By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
I'm a 20-year-old bi girl and I've been with my boyfriend a little over a year. We've talked about having an FFM threesome, but the first time we talked about it, we realized that we were not on the same page, and now every time I try to bring up the possibilities of a threesome, we end up in an argument. I'd like to talk about some rules, just in case it happens as he imagines it—we pick up a girl at a bar—but he won't talk to me, because he claims that it would make a threesome not as spontaneous. Also, there's an unspoken worry that my desire to have a threesome is just a way for me to explore having sex with a woman while he watches. I admit that this is what I was most interested in, in the beginning, but I've since gotten pretty turned on by the idea of him fucking another girl if I tell him to. Any advice on what I should do?
No Rules For The Game
Before we get to an answer—an answer, NRFTG, not my answer—a brief note. I feel deeply honored every morning when I open my laptop and see the huge number of e-mails that poured in overnight. You, my readers, share the most intimate details of your lives with me, you open your hearts and pour out your hopes and your fears, and you often attach pictures. (Pics of your hot boyfriend? Good. Pics of your mysterious genital rash? Bad.) I am always deeply humbled by your trust. A sacred bond ties an advice columnist to his readers and I would never do anything to violate or weaken that bond.
But once a year I do allow a complete stranger to rummage through your e-mails, pluck out a few letters, and give this advice business a whirl. Meet Eric Rescorla. He paid somewhere in the vicinity of the high-mid-to-low four figures for the privilege of taking my advice column out for a spin. The money went to charity (www.farestart.org), and I didn't let Eric keep copies of your e-mail addresses or any of the photos you enclosed. (That's a hell of a rash you've got there, Doris In Dallas; go see a doctor, would you?) Eric is a computer security specialist who lives in the SF Bay Area and so, like me, is completely unqualified to advise anyone about anything. And here's his advice for you, NRFTG.
"Let me see if I have this right: You're offering your boyfriend what's probably the number-one straight-male fantasy and he's bitching because it's not spontaneous?" asks Eric, rhetorically. "Basically, there are two possibilities here: (1) Your boyfriend is too dumb to live. (2) He's sincerely worried that you just want to use this threesome as an excuse to fuck other women, and based on your letter, it sounds like you've given him some reason to.
"That said, seeing as much of the purpose of the exercise is for him to fuck other women, it's hard to see that he has any grounds for complaint on that score. So, either way, he's pretty much a moron and should grow up, quit whining, and enjoy the threesome."
I'm a 23-year-old gay male. And while I am social, I don't really hit the clubs or find myself surrounded by other gay guys, so I don't have many dates and I haven't been in many relationships. Aside from the internet and clubs, where would you suggest I go to meet some guys? Should I just suck it up and throw myself into the scene?
Eager To Meet
"I'm straight so I don't know too much about meeting gay guys in particular," says Eric. "But in my experience, meeting partners in general is pretty much a matter of sucking it up and going for it. Or you could do what I did and buy the right to meet a middle-aged gay sex columnist in next year's Strangercrombie auction."
Hmph. I have to take exception to Eric's advice for ETM. I don't consider 34 to be "middle-aged," for starters, and for enders I'm a married sex-advice columnist who happens to be gay, not a gay sex-advice columnist that ETM here could have for the price of a Savage Love guest slot. But I'd be happy to introduce you to some of my young, single, gay friends if you make the winning bid next year, ETM.
I am writing because I recently found out that my dad has a problem with online porn. My dad is clueless with technology, and he leaves tracks all over the computer, never deletes his history, opens every popup ad, etc., and it is really fucking up our at-home system and embarrasses us whenever someone else uses the computer.
He's not just an occasional user, either. This is multiple times a day, every day. I tried to brush it off until my sister walked in on him looking at—not jerking off to, thankfully—an X-rated video. On Christmas Day, right before dinner. In the computer room, which is in the main hallway of the house, with the door open.