Because this column comes out on my birthday, I’m gonna give myself the gift of printing the finest endorsement I’ve ever received:
Dear Dategirl,
Thank you for the best piece of advice I’ve ever intercepted on its way to someone else. A while ago someone wrote and said he was 31, living at home, and couldn’t get laid [Dategirl, Nov. 29, 2001]. You outlined a program for him that included buying a bed (“not a futon”) and some decent sheets. My situation is a bit different—I’m in my mid-50s, moved out of the house long ago, and have had my share of relationships. But the last year has been a drought. I was attributing it to my age, until I started reflecting back on that column.
For the past year, I’ve been sleeping on a queen-size foam pad on the floor. I did have nice sheets and various camping-related bedding items (like a pile blanket). But nobody was offering to dive into this great pile of nesting material with me. So, on your advice, I went shopping for a bed. I got a nice hardwood sleigh bed and a last-year’s-model national-brand mattress at some discount store. The mattress was delivered yesterday morning, the bed about noon.
I had it set up by around 3 p.m. yesterday. By 4 p.m. today, I was having sex on it. True, this was with someone I’ve been courting for a while, but I was never able to get her to lie down and relax on the foam pad.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Smiling in Seattle
Isn’t that amazing? Twenty-five hours after following my advice, this guy was getting laid! That is a new Dategirl record! I’m so proud. Happy birthday, me!
Dear Dategirl,
If Frustrated in France [Dategirl, April 4] were to make love “with” her husband (and vice versa) instead of fucking and giving blow jobs, she would experience the ultimate pleasure and liberation of total orgasm.
Studies prove that the sex act is much more rewarding when caring and love are involved. Orgasm is as much the result of emotions as it is of physical stimulation. Complete release and the glow that follows it (the psychologist Paul Pearsall called it psychasm) are experienced only by those who are willing and capable of emotional involvement and surrender. Those who have sex, get laid, screw, or fuck are bound to remain unfulfilled or only partially fulfilled, having to resort to manual self-gratification to satisfy their sex hunger when a piece of ass is not available.
If you are fucking more and enjoying it less, switch to lovemaking. You may never have to play with yourself again. I would appreciate it if you publish my letter without editing it.
Sandor Szabados, M.A.
First of all, Mr. Szabados, M.A., as amusing as I found your letter, everyone gets edited—even me. And second, yes, having a loving, mutually respectful relationship is aces. However, life isn’t fair, and not everyone gets that. The woman who wrote that letter has a husband who can barely get his dysfunctional dick inside her before he shoots his load. And if this isn’t enough of a raw deal, after his 10 seconds of passion are over, her loving hubby tells her that she’s the one with the problem. Whether you call it bumping uglies or making love, that just ain’t right.
I also beg to differ with you regarding screwing, etc. It is completely possible to have awesome, toe-curling, completely fulfilling orgasms with someone you’re not in love with. What’s a girl supposed to do while waiting around for Mr. or Ms. Right—remain celibate? I think not!
And what’s so funny ’bout “manual self-gratification”? Knowing I’ve got a battery-operated boyfriend waiting for me at home in the underwear drawer has saved me from getting involved with any number of unsavory characters. But even when I’m getting fucked more often than a greased-up altar boy—excuse me—even when my sex life includes multiple psychasms garnered during tender lovemaking sessions with my life partner, I still enjoy the extracurricular solo flight. If I didn’t occasionally take matters into my own head and hand, I’d never get to make hot monkey love to Steve Buscemi.
Dategirl: working for you. Write Dategirl at dategirl@seattleweekly.com or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.
