Oh I don't know, WETPANTS. Buy yourself some plastic panties or wear a wet suit or a maxi pad or something. If you're that worried about soiling your khakis -- really, heaven forbid you should soil your precious khakis -- wear Depends under your Dockers.
Pardon me for not finding your problem riveting. While I usually find the tiniest problems of my heterosexual readers infinitely fascinating and while this fascination has served me well in my chosen career, I'm just a little out of sorts this week. I was unlucky enough to catch the president of the United States giving his weekly radio address last Saturday, in which he renewed his call for a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage. Then I spent two delightful days in front of the television set watching my old college roommate Sen. Rick Santorum (aka that frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex) yammering on and on about protecting the sacred institution of marriage from the likes of me.
Doesn't it violate the Texas anti-sodomy law once backed by President Bush, to say nothing of the Federal Communications Commission's new anti-smut regulations, for so many U.S. senators to have their heads up their butts on C-SPAN? And, hey, it's good to know that the U.S. Senate has ample time for this Very Important Business while the terrorists -- those evildoing teases! -- are allegedly on the verge of staging a fresh attack on American soil.
Meanwhile over at the White House, in between beating on all the old married lesbians in Massachusetts, the Bush Administration has time to float trial balloons about suspending the presidential election if the evildoers do manage to attack on or before Election Day -- but just the presidential election, of course. In case of a terror attack, Americans will still be able to vote for our county commissioners and dogcatchers and frothy mixes of lube and fecal matter.
The president will be too busy invading countries that had nothing to do with the attack and beating up on homos to, you know, actually risk losing an election.
OK, I feel better. Now that I got that off my chest, I will return to respectfully answering the sex and love questions of my largely hetero readership.
I'm a hetero college female, and my boyfriend and I are sexually active. We started using condoms, and there's a bit of a problem: The damn things won't stay on! Now, I'm no expert on penises, but I've seen my share, and my fella is pretty well endowed without being freakishly large. So why won't the condoms stay on? Is it because they're lubricated? It seems like we only get like three good thrusts in before they're falling off, and it doesn't seem to be for lack of lube.
A couple of safety pins -- sterilize 'em first, of course -- should keep that condom in place. If that doesn't work, well, try a staple gun.
I am a 32-year-old woman with a loving boyfriend of just over a year. We've begun discussing the idea of bringing, for the first time, another woman into our relationship for a one shot (or if it rocks our world, a few) "just curious" try. We agree that it would have to be for both of us. We're also talking about healthy boundaries and respecting the other woman and her needs too. We know that the woman would have to be a neutral and unknown party, because neither of us feels like we could fully enjoy the experience with a friend.
Which brings me to my question: How do we go about finding a woman to bring home with us? We'll be in San Francisco next month for two weeks, and that might be a good time to make this happen, since commitment to this person wouldn't be an issue. We also think this might be good neutral and fertile ground. I don't like the idea of placing an ad or using the Internet. What is the right way to pick someone up for this type of adventure? Do I go to a gay/lesbian club? How can I tell which women in a lesbian bar are anti-man lesbians? Any help is welcome.
At the last meeting of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, the Subcommittee for Lesbian Grievances made a successful proposal to the committee of the whole: Straight women trolling for women who might be willing to fulfill their boyfriends' and husbands' girl-girl-guy three-way fantasies are now welcome in lesbian clubs -- provided you clearly identify yourselves to the bartenders upon your arrival. So while you're in San Francisco, RTT, walk up to the bartender at any of the city's lesbian bars and say, "Hi, I'm here to find a third for me and my boyfriend." The bartender will introduce you to all the other straight women in the bar looking for pro-man lesbians.
Partially thanks to your column, I've found a woman who indulges me in my fetish -- pegging. Apart from occasional santorum, she doesn't seem to mind. However, she has the nagging fear that I'm secretly gay. When we engage in pegging, half of the thrill is that it feels really good and the other half is the wonderful thought that a woman is doing this to me, which is naughty and cool and otherwise freaky and fun. Nowhere beyond the fake plastic penis is a man involved. For her benefit, since I know she reads your column, could you explain that this doesn't make me gay?
Sorry, HMO, but I've changed my mind. Any straight man who would let a woman do him in the ass has to be secretly gay. You're a fag, HMO, just admit it already.
If they not only amend the U.S. Constitution to ban gay marriage, Dan, but also put language in there forcing gay guys to marry women, who would get to be the lucky Mrs. Savage?
Wonkette, of course, as she's the only woman I know who likes to talk about assfucking as much as I do (www.wonkette.com). If Wonkette won't have me, then I'd pop the question to Mary Cheney, Vice President Dick Cheney's lezbo daughter. Mary worked for the Bush/Cheney campaign in 2000, doing outreach to gay and lesbian voters -- affective outreach, apparently, as almost 25 percent of gay and lesbian voters went for Bush. (You dumbfucks!)
Mary's working for her dad again this year, despite the fact that her dad and her dad's boss want to write anti-gay bigotry into the U.S. Constitution. As Mary's husband, I would do all I could to make her absolutely miserable. I wouldn't beat her (I reserve that for people I like), but I would pee on the toilet seat every morning, fart under the covers every night and remind her at every opportunity that she's the most despised American lesbian since Mamie Eisenhower.