Welcome to the first [redacted] Q&A Friday. Every week I plan on fielding questions readers have sent in over the course of the previous week. If I haven’t answered your question this time around, don’t worry. There is enough sarcastic, irresponsive nonsense to go around. I plan on getting to them all. So keep on sending in your questions, and I’ll keep on not helping you – one answer at a time.
I think I've forgotten how to give a good blow-job. That, or my boyfriend is unlike any man on earth, and doesn't enjoy them. Can you tell me what you think constitutes a really great blow-job?
For this question I assembled a panel of men (my friends) and took an informal survey of their opinions on the matter. After about 20 minutes of “Give me her email address, it’s more something you need to show” jokes, these were the findings:
100% of men polled answered “when she puts her mouth on my penis.” 90% added “or nearby.” Half the group included “when she looks at it, acknowledges it or says the word ‘blow job’ whether directed at me or if it is overheard in a crowd.”
So really, as long as you have the fundamentals down, and your jaw isn’t wired shut, it isn’t so much a question of what you are doing wrong as what’s wrong with your boyfriend? And the answer is everything. No, I’m just kidding. I mean, he’s alive, right? . . . Right?
Another Practical Suggestion: Don’t be ugly.
In David Foster Wallace's novel "Infinite Jest", Joelle the "Prettiest Girl of All Time" (PGOAT) wears a veil because she is supposedly hideously deformed. How can she be the PGOAT if she is hideously deformed? Do you feel that she really is deformed or is she so pretty that she's considered deformed?
While I’ve never read anything by David Foster Wallace, probably because his name makes him sound like a boring turn of the century master of pedantic prose, I do know a thing or two about a little thing called irony.
Wikipedia defines irony as “a literary or rhetorical device in which there is a gap or incongruity between what a speaker or a writer says, and what is generally understood (either at the time, or in the later context of history).” Ironically, I had no idea that’s what irony really meant.
Before I start learning something I really don’t care about, let’s instead turn this discussion to something I am actually familiar with – television.
In a particularly memorable episode of “The Twilight Zone” entitled “Eye of the Beholder,” a woman is seen lying in a hospital bed with her face wrapped completely in bandages. We learn that she has just undergone the latest of numerous surgeries attempting to repair her ugliness. Throughout the episode, we never see the faces of the nurses or doctors working on the woman. Finally, after the woman begs and pleads to have the bandages taken off early, the doctor does so and sadly informs her that the surgery was unsuccessful. However when we see the woman’s unbandaged face, we see that she is actually very beautiful. Then, we finally see the faces of everyone else in the room, and they are hideously deformed. This (I think . . .) is ironic.
So my answer to your questions is: IT DOESN’T MATTER. Pretty, deformed, veiled at the shame of being different in a world where the notion of physical beauty is nothing but a metaphor for sameness and lack of individuality – it just doesn’t matter. As long as she can give a proper blow job.
I was wondering if I am a lesbian because I always like to think of tits and ass (of the female variety) when I am pleasuring myself. I am married (to a man) and love him, and love jumping his bones.
Good news, you’re not a lesbian! Bad news, you’re about two years late on the bisexual trend. Then again, in Canada you might be right on time. Have you guys gotten “Saved By The Bell: The College Years” yet? Haha, Canada is so far away!
So let's just say that you were dating someone for a couple of months and then you broke up. A couple of days after the break up the guy you were dating sends you an email saying that he never felt anything for you, and that he is as happy as a pig in shit to be single. Now, what would be the proper response?
a) Terrifying him with the prospect that he might have an STD, for example: "Enjoy the chlamydia, assface."
b) Terrifying him with the prospect that he might have an STD, but keep it a mystery, for example: "Um, there's really no good way to say this, but you should probably get your junk checked out."
c) Just be honest about your feelings about him, for example: "You are 27 years old and you have a sexual dysfunction. Not being able to come from sex makes you less than a man."
What do you think?
You seem like a nice girl, Krista.
First, let’s rule out option c., because I like to keep honesty as a last resort as often as possible. so if we’re choosing between a. and b., there’s really no contest. First, the battery of tests necessary to check for every sexually transmitted disease must be worse than having to just check for one (I wouldn’t know, I am immune to them all). And second, with option b. you are adding the element of fear of the unknown, which, as anyone who is dying will tell you, can be paralyzing.
In fact, this exact situation happened to me once back in college. I broke up with a girl and the next day she left a long message on my cell phone about how she gave me an STD. I ignored her, because I am a white, middle class male, so these things don’t happen to me. Luckily it turns out I didn’t have an STD at all. This was back in 2000 when cell phones still had spotty reception, so it was all a big misunderstanding. What she really said was that she “detested me.” I was so relieved.
Anyway, this isn’t about people hating me, it’s about people hating you. So of your options, I say go with b. However, if I had to throw one more scenario in the mix, it would be this: Go out and get pregnant ASAP. Then tell him it is his. Because while some penicillin may take care of the clap, there’s no medicine for a lifetime of supporting a child who isn’t even yours.
(Think you’ve got what it takes to have a question? Email me at email@example.com)