Savage Love

Confidential to Torn: Standard advice column boilerplate on dating married men goes like this: Don't do it; if he's cheating on his wife, he'll doubtless cheat on you; put yourself in his wife's shoes, etc. I say: Do him. His marriage was falling apart before you met, and only in the best of all possible worlds does one relationship cleanly end before a new one begins. Sometimes things overlap, they get messy. And just because he's cheating on his current wife, doesn't necessarily mean he'll cheat on his next wife. If in six months, he hasn't dumped the little woman, then you might want to think about moving on. In the meantime, fuck his brains out, slut.

Confidential to Guilty Catholic: You've only had sex four times in the last year. Tell him no. What does he take you for?

Confidential to Christina: I don't use crystal. It was a joke. I deal crystal.

Confidential to Love Large Vagina Lips: There is, so far as I know, no correlation between earlobe size, foot size, face lips, etc., and large pussy lips. You're either going to have to bed 'em to find out, or go to med school, become a gynecologist, and date your large-lipped patients.

Confidential to all you cranky Scientologists: Like other big-time religions, you can comfort yourselves with the thought that your critics are going to hell, or space dungeons, or small-claims court, or coming back as mealworms, or will never get nominated for a Golden Globe, or whatever Scientologists believe happens to naughty people. And you're not the only "people of faith" I pick on. I've written some really mean stuff about Catholics: "I hope the pope drops fucking dead." How much meaner can you get than that? Fact is, once a religion has a certain amount of prime real estate (like the Mormons and Utah, or you guys and downtown L.A.), you're fair game -- people can joke about you, and if you're big and strong and convinced you're right, you should be able to take some ribbing. It's a sign that you've arrived.

And rest assured, I don't have anything against Scientologists really. And I think the German government is a bunch of goose-steppin' mean ol' weenies. I do however avoid movies with Scientologists in them, but not out of prejudice; it's just that you guys make pretty bad movies (Look Who's Talking, Phenomenon, Michael, Cocktail, Days of Thunder). I do make exceptions. Like Mission: Impossible. I saw that. It was a good movie, though I wish Tom Cruise had taken his tank top off at some point. And why didn't he ever get tied up? What kind of an action movie is it if the lead doesn't get tied up?

And, hey, I really enjoyed that movie with John Travolta and Christian Slater, the one about the nuclear bomb. Especially those scenes where they beat the living hell out of each other -- whooee! -- now that's homoerotic. And I had a thing for Parker Stevenson when he was on The Hardy Boys, but I don't think he was a Scientologist then, and anyway that was a TV show, not a movie. Sad about him and Kirstie Alley breaking up -- they seemed so good for each other. Anyway, keep up the good work, and just to show there're no hard feelings, the next time I meet some filthy-rich guy who needs a personality test, I'll send him your way.

Confidential to Net Nut: I do have an e-mail address, two actually. The reason I don't put them in the column is very simple: I don't want to end up on everybody and their mother's mass mailing address list and have to slog through funny office bullshit e-mails all day long. I've got better things to do. And besides, having to write it down on paper and send it to me in an envelope helps people focus on what's really important: brevity.

Confidential to Star: On your behalf, I looked around the alt.sex.personals newsgroups on the Internet, and without much trouble found half a dozen straight black guys looking to be dominated. Taking things a step further, I pretended to be you, and placed an ad saying I was a blond, white female looking for a young, handsome black guy who didn't want to "be the boss in bed," but was interested in "taking orders," and "satisfying my dominant needs." Well, I got about 60 responses in less then 24 hours! Not all the guys who responded are probably young, or handsome, or black for that matter, but I bet one or two of them are all three.

Confidential to Back Stabber: Keep your mouth shut. If you must tell her, wait until you're both little old lady widows on a round-the-world cruise. There are worse things than fucking your best friend's boyfriend in a drunken stupor, but I can't think of any off the top of my head.

Confidential to Slave Boy: Wow! I've never had the honor of punishing a straight boy via my column before -- thank your Mistress for thinking of me. So, you have to do whatever I tell you to ... hmmm. It would help to know what the infraction was that I've been invited to punish you for, or if this is punishment for punishment's sake -- I'd like the punishment to fit the crime. Absent that important info, here's some generic, general punishment: Go see Sling Blade.

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