I’m a 34-year-old straight woman living with a 32-year-old straight man. His daughter is 2, and I’m the only mother she’s ever known. (Her real mother is a crack whore somewhere.) My boyfriend tells me he loves me, but it doesn’t feel like he wants to spend any time with me. I pay the rent and am the only person in our household with a full-time job. When I get home, I want to relax. He wants to go out because he’s been sitting at home all day. If he hasn’t been at home, he’s been running around with his friends. This pisses me off, and I’m not afraid to tell him so. His response? “You’re just jealous because you have to work!” Damn right I’m jealous! Also, I do all the cooking and don’t get any help with cleanup or housework.
Other factors include my 13-year-old son, who’s had trouble adjusting to a baby in the house; my boyfriend’s outstanding warrants; and the fact that I’ve desperately wanted another baby for 10 years. What on earth should I do?
Back Against the Wall
Here’s one occupational hazard of the advice-
column bidness: If you’re not careful, if you’re not constantly on your guard, you can fill your column with letters like BATW’s. Letters from people asking, in essence, “DTMFA?” and you’re forced to respond, “Yes, for fuck’s sake, DTMFA.” (For those of you just tuning in: DTMFA stands for “dump the motherfucker already.”)
You may be helping people, sure, but your column quickly becomes a tedious slog, people stop reading and then you have to get a real job at an auto plant or a hedge fund or a daily newspaper.
But there is one good reason to run DTMFA letters: You can dispose of the letter quickly—keep the baby, if at all possible, BATW, and DTMFA the freeloading, inconsiderate piece of shit—and move on to more interesting topics.
For instance: A new study out from the Bradley Hasbro Children’s Research Center found that “anal sex is on the rise” among straight teenagers and young adults. According to a heavy-breathing report from ABC News, straight kids are having butt sex “to please a partner, to have sex without the risk of pregnancy or to preserve their virginity.”
I’m old enough to remember when getting fucked in the ass was considered a sex act, something that virgins, almost by definition, shied away from. But that was before kids were subjected to religious indoctrination masquerading as sex-ed. Abstinence “educators” emphasize the importance of virginity—but they only talk about vaginal intercourse because they figure if we don’t tell kids about anal sex they’ll never figure out what brown can do for them. But they do figure it out.
And lacking accurate info, kids aren’t just concluding that anal sex isn’t really sex. (“Otherwise it would’ve been covered in our sex-ed classes, right?”) Kids are telling researchers that anal intercourse, unlike the premarital vaginal intercourse they were warned about (STDs! pregnancy! eternal damnation!) carries no risk of disease. (I can’t wait to tell all my dead friends!)
I wanted to scream and yell about this study—and a DTMFA letter leaves plenty of room—but then I figured, you know, fuck it. I’ve been ranting and raving about the idiocy of abstinence education for 10 years. Obviously, I can’t beat ’em, so I might as well join ’em.
All my life I’ve had to listen to fundamentalist Christian bigots like Pat Robertson and Rick
Warren—Rick Warren, Obama?—fume about all the terrible, no good, really bad sodomy gay men get up to. But it turns out I haven’t been sodomizing the boyfriend all these years! I’ve been preserving his virginity.
I’ve been preserving the shit out of my boyfriend’s virginity for 14 years now. If my boyfriend ever decides to marry a woman—miracles can happen!—he’ll be able to wear white at his wedding. Hell, he’s so pure he can wear Saran Wrap at his wedding. And his wife will have me to thank for delivering him to her with his virginity intact. (Unfortunately, the boyfriend can’t preserve my virginity. As a teenager, I had actual vaginal intercourse, under duress, with an actual female’s actual vagina.)
But until the boyfriend meets the right girl, I’m going to keep preserving the living shit out of his virginity. His virginity isn’t going anywhere—not on my watch.
Boyfriend Reeling Over Killer Expenses
P.S. She’s only ever physically affectionate after I’ve spent money on her.
DTMFA, BROKE. And here’s hoping the girlfriend’s parents invested all their money with Bernard Madoff, and that the spoiled-rotten little whore they raised has to get a job and start pulling her own weight.
And hey, here’s another interesting study: While straight kids are busily boning each other’s butts—the better to preserve their virginities—gay teenagers are knocking each other up. According to a study out of the University of British Columbia, lesbian and gay teenagers are seven times likelier to get knocked up than their straight peers.
How the hell does that happen? Well, gay teens are having straight sex in order “to prove they are heterosexual to avoid harassment and discrimination” by their parents and peers. In other words, gay kids are still having heterosexual sex under duress.
So this is where abstinence education and homophobia have gotten us: Gay kids are having vaginal intercourse and straight kids having anal intercourse. Good work, sexphobes!
I’ve been reading your column since I was 13. I’m 20 now and dating a 41-year-old crossdresser. We were friends for six months before he told me he wouldn’t be able to spend time with me anymore unless we “got closer.”
A couple months later, he told me he’s into pegging. Now pegging is all he wants to do. He also told me he wants to transition from male to female, but he changed his mind and stopped going to his appointments.
All that is background to what has been happening recently. When we fight lately, he makes threatening gestures like he’s going to punch me. He also pulls my hair and chokes me. He refuses to apologize and tells me I deserve it. I don’t know what to do.
Worried and Sad
You’ve been reading my column since you were 13, WAS, and you don’t know what to do? DTMFA—right fucking now, this fucking minute, without fucking delay. Choking and hair-pulling is physical abuse; telling you that you “deserve it” is emotional abuse. And those raised fists—not very ladylike of him, I must say—are a prologue to more extreme acts of abuse. DTMFA. You deserve better, and he—well, he deserves to be pegged by a predator drone. n
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