Come celebrate the release of the new book by Seattle Weekly‘s “Dategirl,” Judy McGuire, at the Sunset Tavern (5433 Ballard Ave. N.W., 784-4880) on Thursday, June 14 from 6–8 p.m. DJ El Toro spins, and there’ll be giveaways, a trivia contest (e.g., How many rockers croaked via autoerotic asphyxiation?), and several filthy surprises.
Dear Dategirl,
My wife has a habit that grosses me out and is putting a huge dent in our sex life: She moves her bowels at night.
Like most working couples, our mornings are frantic and rushed, so if we’re going to have sex, it usually happens at night. But lately she’ll excuse herself to the bathroom right after dinner! We have a very small house, and luckily the fan deals with the smell, but I know what’s going on in there.
I really don’t want to make love to someone who has just made a bowel movement. I’ve tried talking to her about it, but she’s very dismissive. I’ve even considered putting laxative in her morning coffee, but I’m afraid that might cause her an accident. I realize you probably don’t have the expertise to tell me how she can reschedule herself, but can you help me figure out a way that she’ll take me seriously?
—Disgusted, but Doesn’t Want Divorce
Some people on this planet simply don’t deserve to have sex, and you, my dear, are one of them. Your horniness depends on when your wife takes a crap? Unless she’s a bad wiper or a chronic leaker, I can’t imagine why this is an issue. It doesn’t sound like she’s an open-door dumper (which I would agree is disgusting), nor do you mention any lingering dingleberries in the asscrack. So what is the problem?
You must be one of those guys who grew up thinking women didn’t fart or shit or grow the occasional nipple/chin/random-body-part hair, so I imagine marriage was quite a rude awakening for you. But the fact is, every healthy person on this planet shits. It’s when you stop pooping that you run into trouble. I mean, there’s even a kid’s book called Everybody Poops. I guess you missed that one.
The fact is, the post-poop pork is probably better for everyone. (Well, everyone except the pussy who just spent the prior 10 minutes dry-heaving at the thought of his wife pinching a loaf.) Once she’s pooped, there’s no fecal matter clogging up her insides, making her feel heavy and bloated. There’s way more energy for acrobatics when you’re not carrying around a little food baby in your colon. And if you’re into anal, that path is clear, though I imagine someone so squeamish about defecation isn’t exactly an ass man.
In fact, a lot of people find fucking in the morning, before they’ve brushed their teeth or dropped the kids off at the pool, kind of gross. And blow jobs—how are they not kind of disgusting? Pee comes out of that hole! I’ll bet you like blow jobs though, don’t you? You see, my uptight friend, sex is supposed to be dirty.
I can’t really advise you on how to convince your wife to take your poophobia seriously, because if my boyfriend wanted me to reschedule my deuces, I’d probably piss myself laughing. (No doubt you’d find that an even bigger turnoff.) My best suggestion is that you either man up and fuck your wife regardless of her fecal timing, or divorce her and get yourself a Real Doll. Then you’ll never have to worry about shit—besides your own—again.
