quizzical pussy

There is an ancient prophecy. It’s been passed down from crippled harlot to slutty gimp through the generations¹. Though originally recorded in ancient Sumerian, the English translation somehow manages to be a perfect Petrarchan sonnet. Disabled trollops must have been quite magical at one point.

The tablet upon which it was carved so long ago is kept in a secret underground vault at the base of a wheelchair accessible ramp, and is guarded by vicious Gila panthers. I’ve seen all this with my own eyes. Once.

Of course, I didn’t memorize it. Even if I did I couldn’t share it on the internet, not verbatim, on pain of Hitachi Magic Wand torture. But trust me, the rhymes are ingenious coming from people who couldn’t have possibly known the English language would even be a thing.

I can tell you the gist of the prophecy, though, and it’s this: Someday thou, Quizzical Pussy, shalt stoppeth being so damn insecure. Verily.

It’s actually a little surprising that this ancient, precious prophecy ended up being about me, when I stop and think about it. Was that nice of those Sumerians or what? Anyway, knowing the future like that is a great comfort to me in times like this.

Because really, I am ridiculous.

I told Laramy a few days ago that I’m kind of waiting for him to get sick of me and leave². Which, as it turns out, is not a charming thing to say to one’s sweetheart. In retrospect, it was hurtful. It brushes up against ignoring what we have together, telling him I don’t really think he loves me even though I absolutely know he does. The problem is really that I don’t understand why, so I keep waiting to fuck it up by accident.

This is all mostly-to-entirely because I’m insecure. This is the same reason I lose touch with friends while I’m trying not to bother them. This is the same reason I feel like a creepasaurus creep whenever I try to flirt. It’s even why I’m afraid to say no to people I don’t want to have sex with. Insecurity has gotten me into so much more trouble than cockiness that I wonder why I’m still careful not to brag or build myself up. It should really be the other way around by now. But! Here we are.

Laramy never seems insecure about our relationship. We have a good thing going, and it doesn’t seem like I want to end it, so he doesn’t worry about it. This is pretty much just sense, but it feels like alien logic. I can’t imagine feeling that way. I’m glad he does, but it’s so counter-intuitive to me that part of me insists he’s not worried about losing me because it really wouldn’t matter much. But that isn’t fair. He’s probably just doing what emotionally healthy people do.

Why should anyone assume they’re on borrowed time in their relationship? What good does it do? And it’s not even that being single scares me as a general rule; I just specifically don’t like the idea of not being with him. We really do have a good thing going. And I think my insecurities have the potential ruin it more thoroughly and efficiently than anything else.

Does anyone ever really know why they’re loved, anyway? Is it necessary? Is it possible?

1. Did you not realize we have a sacred fraternal order? Cause we do. [↩]
2. This is not because of something he’s done or anything in particular about us. I’ve tended to feel this way even while in shitty, ill-advised relationships. [↩]

Sometimes I’ll get a confession and think “This doesn’t need to be a secret! It would be pure double rainbows and gumdrop teddy bears if the confessor shared this with their partner. It would bring them closer as a couple and probably even help usher in a new era of collective debauchery and love!

But then there are the times when I’ll read one and think “Anonymity is indeed a beautiful thing.” To wit, “Here we have a secret that’s a secret for a damn good reason.” Not that I’m judging, mind. I obviously have secrets myself; I’m not an anonymous blogger just because I’m afraid of getting too much fan mail. For all you know, one of the following confessions is mine…

I have a very, very small crush on my brother in law, but ever since I watched a thing of polyandry in Tibet, I’m kind of obsessed with the idea of being in a relationship with my husband and his brother both. I’ve been fantasising about it all day, like who snuggles with who when someone gets up first in the morning, and how absolutely freaking awesome it would be to fuck them at the same time.

This one hits fairly close to home for me. My sisters and I fall into the same general physical type, except they’re all much prettier than I am. I’m not being modest by saying this; it is very simply true. Since before anyone even thought about wanting to date me I have lived in terror of learning that a partner wants to fuck my sisters in addition to/instead of me. I can’t even say exactly why, and I will not even pretend it’s rational.  Coming up short in comparisons over the years has made me a little too neurotic, I guess.

I doubt I’m alone on this one. This is why fantasies about siblings, though probably incredibly common, usually belong firmly in the “Excellent anonymous confession, potentially devastating personal admission” category.

Of course, I’m sure there are also people that would love to share a partner with their sibling. Some people didn’t grow up indulging the petty jealousies that I did.

When my ex and I broke up a year and a half ago, he had gotten another girl pregnant in a weird poly experiment gone wrong (where they did not have my consent to be fucking without birth control), he immediately moved in with her, and she had the baby. Then I ended up becoming friends with her, and we would hang out and talk all the time. He and I would secretly dirty txt each other, and he begged me to fuck him again many times, but I always resisted, because I felt I owed it to her to refrain due to our friendship. Then about a month ago, she found a dirty video I sent him and got very upset, and we decided not to be friends anymore. It only took a couple of weeks for me to cave to his pleas, and yesterday we finally got together. He beat the crap out of me with a belt (consensually), and we spent the afternoon fucking. It was awesome. What pushed me over the edge was him telling me about his secret girlfriend that his baby momma doesn’t know about and me getting competitive with her. The bad thing is that I really don’t feel guilty at all. The other bad thing is that I realized that I am still in love with him. To top things off, he wants me to have a threesome with him and his secret GF, and I probably will. What a mess!

The more complicated a sexual situation is, the fewer people you can tell about it without compounding the drama. I just now decided to call this The Circus Tent Rule, because once you invite an audience inside the big top, every act suddenly gets more dangerous: animals are less predictable, nets and safety mechanics that were used in practice may be removed, and jangling nerves come into play. As long as you keep your mess a secret you’re still in dress rehearsal mode, and that can save lives.

Not that helping someone cheat on their partner is okay, but does talking about it ever suddenly make it more okay? One (unsolicited) suggestion, though: When you’re a party to cheating, being extra-vigilant about getting tested for STIs and practicing safer sex is really the least you can do.

It’s probably a bad idea to choose people to stay with while couchsurfing based on how much I want to fuck them…right?

I’m going to be conservative here and guess that 15% of people do exactly that. It’s probably a bad idea to tell people you’re choosing to stay with them while couchsurfing because you want to fuck them, and it’s definitely a bad idea to expect to fuck them. But I don’t think people necessarily do much damage just by wanting to fuck someone. Unless, naturally, that someone is my sister. In which case HOW DARE YOU?

Sadly, my much younger lover has left town and (maybe happily?) my husband has returned. I’m scared to death to have sex with my husband because I want him to do all the things my much younger lover did that turned me on so much but I don’t want him to wonder why I want those things suddenly. QP, do you have any advice on how to ask for new things without arousing suspicion?

Oh, so totally blame the internet. That’s what we’re here for. “I’ve been reading about this and can’t stop thinking about it. Can we try it?”

Do you, my lusty readers, have anything you yearn to tell but need kept secret? There’s a very simple solution!

If someone with a not too terribly impressive amount of judgment were to come to me and ask, face so straight and tone so earnest: “Quizzical Pussy, what’s the key to a good relationship?” my first priority would be to not snort while I was doing all the laughing. Really, the “I Make Wonderful Romantic Decisions, And In Case You Were Wondering, Yes, That’s Sarcasm” sash I was awarded in 2004 didn’t win itself.

And then I’d be tempted to say “blind luck” because that’s certainly how I’ve landed in the one I’m in. But then I’d give my real answer.

Inside jokes.

Yes, love and trust and patience. Absolutely. And fabulous sex usually doesn’t hurt either. But it’s harder to quantify those first three things, and sometimes even tricky to detect when they’re fading away. And the sex? It’s possible to have fabulous sex with someone you actively dislike.

But if you’re always laughing together at things that would elicit shrugs and eyebrow twitches from all the rest of humanity, you have this secret language. You’re each choosing to be in closed, joyous company, which in my experience is the last thing you want when you’re fundamentally unhappy with each other. In essence, inside jokes are an old magic that transports you to the island nation of Us, a place of moderate climate and ruthless border control. You are never dragged to Us, although you can often convince the other person you’re already there just by smiling and nodding politely. But there will still be an ocean between you.

And this isn’t just romantic relationships. Not at all. I never feel like I’m fully friends with someone until we have at least one inside joke together. We’re just on the shore, friendly together but sharing no homeland.

Maybe this is just me. I could be biased by the amazing sex Laramy and I had yesterday between spates of laughing at things that are sheer nonsense to everyone else. I could be placing too much value on laughter for this to apply to anyone but me. But that would be my answer anyway.

(image source)

Wishes are sometimes confessions. Often, really. For instance, the main reasons I want bigger boobs are so I’ll (a) look better naked and (b) be able to get more attention when I want it. This is not something I’m comfortable going around saying to people, so I just say I want bigger boobs to even out my generous butt. That reason is valid, but it is not entirely truthful.

These ConTuesday confessions are pretty much all less frivolous than that.

9 months after the break up of our short romance, I still sometimes have dreams that he takes me back and everything is right with the world again.

But then you wake up and realize your life is awesome and you’re awesome and anyone willing to let you go is someone you’re better without? I’m hoping.

I think there is something seriously wrong with me!!!! I have only orgasimed with a man once. I can masterbate and hit it on the spot just like that, but you let a man come into the picture and it ain’t happening. Oh sure the sex is great but no orgasim. I have changed positions, added toys, and even told the guys how to do it. I don’t know what else to do, so I enjoy the sex, I come home, masturbate, and have the most intense orgasims. What is wrong with me???

Nothing is wrong with you. This is a very common situation, as I understand it. Maybe it’s the mental distraction of having someone else there. Perhaps the pressure of feeling like you need to have an orgasm to satisfy your partner’s expectations is bogging you down. Perchance it’s the fact that even if you tell someone just what to do with a toy, their technique won’t be exactly the same as yours. Have you tried just masturbating in front of a partner? If you haven’t, that might be a good start. If you’ve tried that and it hasn’t worked out the way you want, maychance try masturbating while having phone sex with your partner as an introduction to sharing your orgasms with him.

Keep in mind that you’re capable of giving yourself orgasms, so that’s great in and of itself, seeing as you’re a person interested in having them.

I want a hysterectomy more than anything. There is no medical reason to get one. I hate my uterus though – it is an organ with entirely oppositional goals to mine, and I do not identify as female and having it makes me feel alienated from my body. But I am terrified of losing my uterine orgasms – this must the joke of the cruelest gods, to make one organ both responsible for my greatest joy and greatest fear.

You didn’t ask for advice, and I am in no way qualified to give you any, but I want to say I cannot imagine how difficult this dilemma must be, and I’m sorry you’re facing it.

I want my lover to be poly-compatible more than I want just about anything else. I love her deeply and she’s practically perfect, but so matter how happy we are together, no, she’s NOT enough. It isn’t that anything is wrong with her, it’s the fact that she’s just one person. I can never make her understand that if she can’t understand open relationships. It’s hopeless. I can either lose the love of my life or stay with her unfulfilled. How does one choose?

Monogamy vs. polyamory is a relationship/sexual orientation (and yes, there are people who swing both ways as well). More and more I’m convinced that it has more to do with how one is wired than what one is able to understand, or how evolved one is, or how badly one wants to be the other orientation. If your orientation is definitely poly and hers is definitely mono (and demanding of monogamy, because some people stay monogamous and very happily let their partners practice polyamory, and that’s one solution), it seems to me that neither of you has a great deal of choice in the matter.

That being said, maybe buying her a book wouldn’t hurt. No pressure, mind, just a free book and the polite request that she do you a favor by reading it and discussing it with you.

Good luck!

Want to confess something? Preferably something related to sex, relationships, or how you have a giant crush on me? Please go here and spill it!

 

Gay marriage is now recognized in six states (and Washington D.C.). Right now I feel like my country is 2% more reasonable than it was this time yesterday. And that ain’t nothing.

To all the New Yorkers who’ve been waiting too long for this, I wish you all possible joy! To everyone still denied the right to marry their sweethearts, we’ll get there. I really do believe it. Eventually, we’ll even get Utah.

In the meantime, last night was a good night.

One of my coworkers was recently telling us about her son’s impending engagement to his longtime sweetheart. It’s going to happen any day now. Her eyebrow turned a confidential arch as she detailed his plans for the proposal, and the engagement gift she wants to get them. She worried they’re too young, having just finished college, with years of grad school ahead of them. She sighed. She beamed. “They’re not shacking up, though,” she added. “They’re going to move in together after the wedding.”

“That’s good,” said another coworker. “That’s the way it should be.” General concurrence.

“Really?” I asked her in my quizzical way, not just because this woman lived with her boyfriend for a year before he recently became her husband.

“I think it’s the ideal. I mean, I admire people who can do that.”

“It’s great if they want to wait. But I don’t think there’s any one right way. I just think people should do whatever works best for them,” I shrugged.

“Well, yeah. I do too. I just think it’s really classy when people wait to live together,” she asserted. Another shrug from me. “It’s just classier,” she tasted the word again.

As I went back to my work, I wondered what’s “classy” about abstaining from sex before marriage. Indeed, what’s classy about not even abstaining from sex, but maintaining plausible deniability that you’re having it with the person you love. It just doesn’t compute for me.

Let me take a moment to tell you that I’m actually pro-marriage. I’ve had several conversations recently leading me to suspect that a lot of people get the opposite impression from me. People who read my blog might think this because I’ve written that marriage isn’t something I consider important to the continued stability of society. Or possibly because I also stated that a free stand mixer was a perfectly valid reason to enter the sacred institution of matrimony. Or maybe just because I’m so obviously cynical.

But honestly? I’m thrilled when people get engaged. I will squee right along with the best of them when two people I love want to exchange vows. In this society just the word “wife” or “husband” has more heft, more meat to it than “girlfriend” or “boyfriend”, and this is fact. I’m not immune to it, whether I can intellectually justify it or not.

But also, there’s this innate power in having said “You and me, okay? For as long as we keep breathing. This is the goal.” You can make that commitment without being officially married, of course, and I respect that choice as well, but when you’re married you’re more or less asking people to automatically assume it. And that’s powerful too. However it might seem when I’m snarking, I’m pro-optimism and pro-love and pro-commitment. So Yay Marriage! Yay Marriage between any two or more people who want to make that promise to one another.

Is it for me personally? I don’t know. To me, marriage is largely just like any relationship, but with a stated goal (which may or may not work out) and all those little perks like possible tax breaks, legal status, and the ability to easily share insurance benefits. In and of itself, it is neither scary nor numinous. In my able-bodied early twenties I guess I used to think it would be really great to have that kind of bond and goal with someone. Like, hypothetically. But since becoming chronically ill, it feels uncomfortable to even think about asking for that degree of commitment from anyone. I’m aware that I’m not the best long-term investment*. So I don’t know. Probably not.

But I am pro-marriage for you, if you’re into it. I promise.

However, I have to say it once again: I don’t think being married makes anyone better than non-married people. I don’t believe it sanctifies sexual union. I don’t think that living together and sharing a life before you’re (or instead of being) married is tacky or sinful or intrinsically sub-ideal or anything of the sort. I think it’s just what works best for some people and their relationships, which really aren’t my business anyway. Just another choice in a world full of possibilities.

You want to protect marriage? Don’t play nuptial keep away with the homosexuals. Don’t freak out because a woman wants two husbands. Don’t judge couples for having pre- or lieu-of-marital sex. Cluck not about unwed mothers. In observing these prohibitions, perhaps you’ll find that every time people get married, it gets to be beautiful and meaningful to them. Never perfunctory. Never to appease public opinion. Stop making it about you and your expectations. It may surprise you that your marriage can still be what you and your partner/s and your God and your culture want marriage to be. You’re just finally giving the same courtesy to the rest of us.

Because if you, the judgment mongers of the world, keep picking at marriage, trying to reduce it to your own definitions and rules, it really is going to unravel. And all that’s left will be people trying to love each other and be happy. And I have this strange foreboding that in the end, that will be perfectly fine with everyone but you.

(image source)

*These statements do not in any way apply to all or indeed any other disabled or chronically ill people. Just to be clear, I am talking about myself only.

What follows is a dramatization of how I imagine most couples get “their song”.

Hassle: Hey, you wanna, like, get married?

Hoff: Oh sure. That sounds pretty boss.

Hassle: Big wedding or elope?

Hoff: Put it this way: I am very fond of elaborate cakes.

Hassle: Fair enough. Wedding it is.

Hoff: Oh shit. We’re gonna need a song, aren’t we?

Hassle: A song?

Hoff: One that’s “our song” that we dance our first dance to while everyone waits for the elaborate cake to happen.

Hassle: This is one of those things that’s supposed to define us as a couple, isn’t it?

Hoff: Put it this way: Utterly.

Hassle: We have to think of something that sums up our feelings for each other and our hopes for the future, and that isn’t super hard to dance to, and isn’t totally annoying to listen to. Oh, and let’s avoid the really cliche songs, agreed?

Hoff: Yeah. You know, this sounds like work. Let us revisit this.

Hassle: Word.

…A year later...

Hoff: So the ridiculously expensive DJ needs to know what song we’re picking for our first dance. Basically posthaste.

Hassle: Oh. That. This is a lot of pressure all of a sudden.

Hoff: Yeah. He says most people just go with Elton John’s “Your Song” or that “Lady in Red” one.

Hassle: Those are terrible. How about something by Journey?

Hoff: I just remembered that I really hate your taste in music.

Hassle: Journey’s a crowd-pleaser.

Hoff: How about that Janet Jackson song where she’s all low and growly and then she goes kinda high and it goes like “love will never do without yoooooooou…”

Hassle: I swear, if we have children and they inherit your voice… But also, no.

Hoff: Ugh! This is fucking murder and executions! I can’t think of anything that’s us enough, you know? We’re awesome. It needs to be an awesome song, right? One that’s just like “Fuck you, world. We’re married now and we’re awesome! In your fucking face!!!”

Hassle: Fuck yeah!

Hoff: Yeah!

Hassle: …

Hoff: …

Hassle: … So “Lady in Red?”

Hoff: I was thinking the Elton John one. But whatever.

Lately I’m really feeling the theme ConTuesdays. I don’t strictly get enough confessions to do a cohesive theme every week, but I can cobble something matchy matchy together every so often.

Cobbling something matchy matchy together? Say, that makes me think of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Which brings us to…

Our theme. Not drag, sadly. Just LGBTness.

It’s weird to think that I’ve only been admitting that I’m 50% lesbionic for a couple years. I mean, I’ve basically always known. Way more than half my crushes in memory have been on chicks, and I’ve asked every man I’ve ever dated if he’d be okay with me fucking women.

But, you know, I was straight.

Ah, the secrets of the human mind. As secrets go, though, there are better: other secrets that feature the gays and pansexuals and queers, oh my! But just like they say on that homotastic Reading Rainbow, don’t take my word for it…

Coincidence that you should mention guy on guy the other day… yeah, I have a big thing about it. My boyfriend confessed to me the other day that he’d been with a man, and wasn’t too keen on the actual sex but had quite enjoyed giving a blowjob.

Even though we’re normally quite open/kinky and do sometimes have guests in the bedroom, it seems pretty clear that he’s not comfortable even talking about this, let alone repeating it. But I cannot get the image of him sucking cock out of my head. *subtly humps desk*

I mentioned on twitter a while back that I’m partial to gay porn, especially when twinks are involved. I stand by that.

As for you, do you think he’d be interested in blowing you while you wore a strap-on? This suggestion has nothing to do with my long-standing fantasy to have a man suck my pretty, purple dick whatsoever. I’m just trying to be helpful.

I’ve recently become involved with a couple for the first time, and I’m liking it and them a lot. I was concerned about maintaining some level of equality between the three of us but we’re managing to keep the balance just fine… except for the sex.

Sex with him is silly and flirty and relaxing (and HOT), with lots of laughing and fun and even when I don’t get off, I don’t mind, because I’ve enjoyed myself.

Sex with her is serious and dramatic and usually starts out intense but eventually ends up just tense. At least one of us (often her) usually ends up uncomfortable and unsatisfied. Worst of all, she won’t talk about it (at least not with me), so I’m completely at a loss as to how to get us both to relax and let go a bit. Threesomes don’t help; I think they make her even more uncomfortable.

Don’t you hate it when there’s a problem with the sex and it seems like you’re not allowed to talk about it? Maybe you can anonymously send her a message (because I’m all for anonymity). It could go like, “Hi there. This is one of your sexual partners. No sneaky guessing which one, now. I’ve noticed that when we have sex it gets awkward and it seems like you’re not having much fun. If you would be open to talking about this issue, please blink occasionally for ‘yes’ and never for ‘no’. I will recognize this signal, and we can have a calm, adult conversation about our sex life.”

Otherwise? I’m really not a fan, but this rather sounds like a job for pot.

I’m a pansexual poly femme queer woman, laughably oversexed and loving every second. Men are always my primary relationships and I don’t like admitting why. I refuse to have a woman for my primary partner because the one time I tried it we succumbed to lesbian bed death. I didn’t have sex with my girlfriend for six months straight even though I was getting it elsewhere. One day I’ll be too old to attract new partners as easily as I do now so I cannot have my first commitment be to someone who will ultimately lose interest in filling my needs.

I’m a woman myself, FFS. Shouldn’t I know all women aren’t going to turn frigid?

It’s okay to primarily date men. Nothing wrong with it, even if you identify as romantically and/or sexually attracted to all gender variations. You can still identify as a PPFQW, and no one is going take away your pussy-eating merit badges. If your assumptions about women are at all valid, though, I feel sorry for straight men everywhere.

I realized about a year ago that I feel very safe, secure, peaceful and ”at home” when I hear the sounds of people fucking in whatever place I live.

I credit the gay guys I rented a room from back then for helping me discover this beautiful tidbit — I never would have figured it out back when I lived with my Mormon parents.

Some folks might complain about apartments with thin walls and the neighbors who rattle them every night. I’d love to thank them for the best lullaby a girl could ever want!

Yes, the Gay Sex Lullaby, enjoyed by my neighboring hotel patrons on many a magical evening.

You’re so welcome. The pleasure was all mine.

Do you have a sex confession to share? I’m dying to read it.

I’m at the point where I get kind of surprised when I learn that a woman doesn’t own a sex toy. I don’t call that jaded, though, I call it optimistic. I wish I could say the same for men, but far fewer guys of my acquaintance have (or admit to having) toys, so it rather pleasantly surprises me when a man tells me he has one.

I realize sex toys aren’t for everyone. They’re just so fun, though! Tech nerds like to compare their gadgets, I like to talk about which sleeve, vibe, or fetish gear you like best.

So inevitably, I like to read confessions that deal with all that stuff. It’s a sex toy ConTuesday!

I just dropped almost a hundred bucks on a Lelo Siri! It’s charging now, and I can’t wait to try it! (And I just called my boyfriend and left him a message regarding the same. . .)

Do you love it? I still love mine. It is my absolute, number one go-to masturbatory aid, not counting Natalie Dormer.

I bought my wife our first toy for Valentines Day…The Lilo Irus. There was no fireworks the first time out, but we sure had fun.

It was such a turn on to hear ”I wonder what it feels like inside?” Not to mention the sight of it moving to and fro, in and out. I can’t wait to have her wiggling and twitching with me at the controls, or to catch her using it alone ;-)

Another LELO! I am not one for too much brand loyalty, but goddamn it do I ever want more of their toys.

Sometimes it takes a little while to warm up to a toy. Or sometimes, like with people, you have to try a few before one can really hit the right spots. Hope you guys found your fireworks. Trying new things isn’t just what marriages crave (from what I, single filer who should do her taxes already, have heard), but it’s also so much fun!

I’m a guy, I love sex and masturbation. My sex life is good, but my personal time is amazing! I enjoy things that I don’t feel very comfortable sharing with my current partner. (I’m not even sure I’ll find one who would make me that secure)

One of my dark secrets is hot wax, Until tonight I hadn’t used it in probably a good 6 years. Laying in bed, candle lit I tried to remember how hot it would be. Was it going to be too much now? When my partner gets home will she smell the scented candle? Maybe she’ll discover a stray wax droplet somewhere and ask questions…

On a dark-secret kink scale of zero to you’ve-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me-I’m-filing-a-restraining-order, I sure wouldn’t divide by hot wax. I don’t know about the safety of playing with regular candles, whose wax gets a lot hotter than dedicated sexy candles manufactured just for wax play, but I’m assuming (and hoping) you do as an experienced practitioner.

I can’t tell just by reading if you’re worried your partner will learn your secret, or simply want a way to invite her into your wax play, or both. If you want to share the fun with your partner, may I suggest a gateway drug? That thing’s about as intimidating as a Persian kitten.

I’m obsessed with the idea of using a sex swing with my fiance. He’s agreed, and we have one ordered… who wouldn’t want to use grown-up playground equipment for nefarious ends? My confession is, I consider that the first in a sequence of baby steps toward my ultimate obsession. I REALLY want to rig it with a pulley system so he can pull me off his cock and drop me back down while I beg for mercy. I’m picturing an interrogation scene where I go from reluctant to depraved as the sex progresses.

He reads your blog, I’m hoping he’ll read this. That’s one of the baby steps!!!

Oh, I see. Using the sacred trust that is ConTuesday for your little passive-aggressive games, are we?

And who wouldn’t want to see grown-up playground equipment desecrated? Really? I guess your elementary school didn’t have any paraprofessionals patrolling recess time. Well, they oppose playground fun in all its forms and age ranges, and I assure you they are not smiling.

Just fucking with you. I support your dream, your baby steps, and your fantasy, which I’m pretty sure I saw approximated once in a samurai movie or something. I agree, it sounds delightful! Just remember to test the pulleys ridiculous amounts before your maiden voyage. Good luck, you crazy kids!

Got a secret? Let’s turn it into a confession.

Things people seem to like to compare same-sex marriage to:

• Pedophilia
• Zoophilia
• A Slippery Slope
• Counterfeit Money
• Incest
• Drug Abuse
• Polygamy
• Forbidden Clock Love
• Slavery
• Nazi. Fucking. Germany

With a couple exceptions (because I will never tire of Forbidden Clock Love), I think these chestnuts are getting a bit old. Yeah, yeah, marrying a consenting adult of the same sex is exactly like marrying a horse, sure*. But where’s the impact? And frankly, when we’re comparing it to polygamy, which even has a strong Biblical basis for the Christians to enjoy, not to mention a robust history of past acceptance, the argument conspicuously lacks teeth.

So I, being a humanitarian at my core, decided to come up with some exciting new suggestions for gay marriage comparisons.

If I don’t see these proliferate throughout the news media soon, I’ll be disappointed. Try to forge new territory, people. Being cutting-edge gets hard when your belief system is older than your numeral system, I know. But that’s why you have to pay attention to the little things.

Now, I honestly don’t know why any of the following suggestions are like same-sex marriage, but I don’t really know why the old, cliched ones are either. I trust the pundits to figure out tenuous-but-alarming links for me. That’s pretty much their job anyway, right? So, without further ado…

Gay marriage is really like:

• Wearing sunglasses indoors.
• Letting Michael Bay marry explosions!
• The part in The Labyrinth when David Bowie turns into an owl.
• Impaling babies on narwhal tusks.
• Kicking the tires of a new car just because you’ve seen other people do it, but not really knowing what anyone gets out of it.
• Marrying cancer.
• Buzkashi, the cut-throat game of goat dragging.
• Riding a fixed-gear bicycle.
• Destroying all the cookies in the world.
• Licking doorknobs when you’ve got a cold and you know you’re still contagious.
• Throwing monkeys into turbine jet engines.
• Being in love with just, you know, being in love, man.
• Giving America AIDS.

I hope this gives the anti-gay marriage activists some new material to work with. You really need to flood the airwaves with as many of these comparisons as possible or people will start conflating gay marriage with marriage marriage, possibly at some point dropping the “gay” qualifier. That would obviously be disastrous to someone. I’m just not positive whom.

But I don’t want to see that tired bestiality thing trotted out yet again, okay guys? You’re better than that.

(image source)

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