I've got a confusing issue with my girlfriend. Our relationship was going great until I caught her having an emotional affair via MySpace. She swore to never hurt me again. Well, I recently found out that she posted an ad looking for NSA sex. She responded to several people who contacted her. When confronted, she encouraged me to look through her e-mail, to prove her innocence; but her e-mail proved her guilt. There was tons of evidence that she had been planning an affair—naked pics in her e-mails, contact information, pictures of guys. She says she doesn't remember doing any of these things.
My girl has told me that she is bipolar, obsessive-compulsive, and has mental ailments. She's been on meds since she was 12, but I never knew to what extent until now. She's on four different meds. I've since found out about lots of other lies she has been perpetuating since the beginning of our relationship. She claims to remember nothing. Is it possible that the drugs could cause her to selectively forget things? Could her conditions and the drugs she's on cause this kind of amnesia? Or is my girl just a liar?
Duped By The Dope
Low-down dirty liar, victim of drug-induced amnesia; low-down dirty liar, victim of drug-induced amnesia... does it really matter which it is, DBTD? Because here's what we know for sure: Stay with this woman and you're going to be lied to, cheated on, and manipulated. Does it make it better if she can point to her meds and claim that the possible side effects made her post those ads, send those pictures, and fuck those other dudes?
So the question you need to ask yourself, DBTD, isn't, "Did the drugs make her do it?" but, "Am I willing to put up with this crap?" I think we both know the answer to that question: DTCMFA.
I'm a single straight guy who really enjoys performing oral sex on women. A few years ago, I experimented with coke and Ecstasy. The combo made me incredibly horny, but I couldn't get an erection—so I gave girls head for hours and loved every second. Now, I find myself seeking out escorts. I pay them to lie back and let me eat. It's even better if the girl is nonchalant about it—sending text messages, doing my blow, and drinking champagne while I eat. I lose control and bury my face in muff for hours. Why does this turn me on? How do I stop? What's this about?
Worried Over Oral Fixation
I scoured the Partnership for a Drug-Free America's website, WOOF, but cunnilingus isn't listed as one of the possible side effects of mixing coke and Ecstasy. Still, I'm relieved my blow-and-roll days are behind me—I wouldn't want to wake up from a drug-induced blackout with my face buried in muff.
While the side effects you've experienced haven't made PDFA's website, I'm nevertheless required to say that Drugs Are Bad. Some, in fact, are badder than others. According to American Scientist, the dangers posed by various recreational drugs are best measured by the ratio of effective dose to lethal dose. (Effective doses get you high; lethal doses kill you dead.) Two of the most toxic recreational drugs out there—heroin and GHB—are lethal at five and eight times their effective doses, respectively. The cocaine and Ecstasy you're using are slightly less dangerous, WOOF, with lethal doses 15 and 16 times their effective doses, respectively. But the deadliest drug you're abusing is champagne. A lethal dose of alcohol is just 10 times its effective dose. So in the interest of the health and safety of the escorts you're eating out, I urge you to pour out the champagne and set out more blow.
As to your questions...
Why does this turn you on? Because it does.
How do you stop? You stop.
What's this about? Two hundred bucks an hour, I'd guess, not including the drugs.
I am 33 and my sister is 40. We are only half brother and half sister, as we have different fathers. A week ago, my sister was massaging my back. Then she started rubbing her hands over my chest from behind. I thought, "Um, okay, no big deal." Then she started giving me little kisses on my neck. Then she kissed me on the mouth. No big deal, right? Brothers and sisters sometimes do that. But THIS time she French-kissed me.
Growing up, I heard, "Your sister is hot, blah, blah, blah," from my friends. But I never looked at my sister that way. After we kissed, she pulled back and said, "This isn't right; we're not in fuckin' Kentucky." I've talked to her a few times on the phone since that night. She keeps bringing up what happened and saying it's not right. I told her I agreed, it wasn't right.
But I liked it, Dan. Am I some sick fuck? Are we both sick fucks? I have no idea if anything will happen again. But I know my sister. A bit of her history: married and divorced three times, three kids, all raised by their fathers. She's also an alcoholic: Could that have something to do with this?
Fucked Right Up In The Southwest
Alcohol: deadlier than cocaine and Ecstasy—and mescaline, roofies, peyote, and pot—and it'll make your half sister stick her tongue in your mouth. Eesh.
Okay, FRUITS, the reason your sister keeps calling to say, "It's not right," is because she's waiting for you to say, "I know it ain't right, Sis, but let's do it anyway." She wants you and she's using reverse seduce-ology to get you. ("Eww! Gross!" "Yeah, gross!" "But kind of hot for something so gross, huh?" "Yeah... do you wanna try it? I mean, just to see how gross it is?")
If it were possible for you to have sex with the half of your half sister that you aren't related to—the back half, maybe, or the top half—you might get my unambiguous, if slightly nauseated, blessing. But as that's not possible, FRUITS, I'm going to urge you to deflect your sister's clumsy attempts at reverse seduce-ology—and for you to encourage her to smoke pot instead.
Confidential to Beth Ditto: In New Musical Express you're quoted as saying, "If there's anyone to blame for size zero, it's not women. Blame gay men who work in the fashion industry who want these women as dolls." That's bullshit. If you want to blame something for size zero, Beth, blame cheap and abundant food. When food was scarce and most poor suckers were starving to death, fat bodies were the beauty ideal and skinny girls were oppressed. Now that food is plentiful and most dumb motherfuckers are eating themselves to death, skinny bodies are the beauty ideal and fat girls are oppressed. File it under "What goes around, comes around." But take heart, Beth: Food may soon be scarce again, thanks to climate change, and fat girls will rule the runways.
And, Beth, if gay men had the power to dictate beauty ideals to impressionable straight men, we wouldn't order boys to lust after women—big or small, dieting or diabetic. We'd order them to lust after cock, Beth—big and small, dockable and undockable.
A new Savage Love podcast is available for listening every Saturday at portlandmercury.com/podcasts.