Superman got to Gay City mere minutes after Prop 8 was repealed. (via)
Wow. With fantasy drafts quick approaching, people’s sex lives are getting more messed up than ever. In this behemoth 5000-word mailbag, we address pregnancy scares, drafting from the wraparound position, bisexual wives, hitting on widows, ball-shaving, the Dallas Cowboys, when not to share your secret fantasies with your partner, the weekly sad sack who can’t talk to girls, and much more. My sincerest apologies to those emailers whose questions didn’t make the cut, but the last writer I want to be compared to is Gregg Easterbrook. Well, second-to-last.
Anyway, let’s get do this.
Football first- With the addition of Dez Bryant who becomes the most Fantastical Cowboy to pick up this year? Will DB’s arrival boost Romo since he’ll have an astounding assortment of targets? Will his presence prevent double coverage on Miles Austin? Will it drop the amount of touches for Felix Jones/ Marion Barber? Will it cause Roy Williams to not play like a little bitch? Lots of scenarios, but definitely the potential for a major accruement of points with a correct selection.
In order: Miles Austin, maybe, sometimes, those guys will fuck you anyway, and Roy Williams will never not play like a little bitch. I like Bryant’s chances as an impact player, but keep in mind that the leap from college wideout to starting WR in the NFL is a huge one. The routes are more difficult and varied, the assignments tougher, the defenses faster and more responsive. Yes, rookies like Percy Harvin and DeSean Jackson managed to be immediate impact players at that position, but they also had the benefit of full training camps. Bryant will miss the entire preseason due to that high ankle sprain, and with it the chance to grow comfortable in the Cowboys’ offense. I think he’ll be good, but I won’t be surprised if he has a slow start.
Pussy- I’ll try to be as concise as possible. About 3 months ago I began hanging out with a girl I met at a club one night. There was a good deal of sex involved and during one such occasion, the ever reliable Trojan Ultra ribbed ripped apart like Ki-Jana Carters knee.
An excellent metaphor.
Now this clubber had told me that she was on the pill at an earlier point in our little tryst. So I figured no big deal with the rippage since it was just extra protection. Seeing as I was not searching for any type of actual relationship, I told her it best to go our separate ways after a couple of weeks of drunk fucking. She didn’t like the idea very much, and her crazy side, which I was wary of began to show. To keep things simple for myself I just stopped answering calls/texts and figured she’d get over it. Fast forward 2 months… Without any contact in between she starts sending messages claiming to be with child, although she hasn’t had a pregnancy test.
Guhhhh. Ladies, this is why your gender gets a reputation for being crazy. Maybe it’s true, maybe not — but erratic behavior marked by sharing the gut-punching, life-altering news of a pregnancy — especially one with someone you’re not dating seriously — WHEN YOU HAVEN’T EVEN BEEN TESTED is why we say, “Bitches be crazy.”
As dickish as it may sound I didn’t believe her, and said until she has a positive test to show me I would prefer not thinking about it. We do not live in the same area so I basically have to rely on her telling the truth regarding such test. Here in lies the problem… I’m a student, a drinker, a philanderer, and absolutely incapable of being responsible for another human life in the proper way. So naturally club girl is adamantly against abortion, which would be a simple solution in my book. Considering this really is her choice, how do I know what I am responsible to do? I honestly want nothing to do with this girl, but I realize what a blessing a child can be, and the fact that it’s not guaranteed I would ever have one in the future. This is more of a sob story for me than a question, but I would appreciate any type advice of how to properly deal with the situation… besides kicking her down the stairs, because as I previously mentioned, we live in different areas.
Dez Bryants father
I have two words for you: LAWYER UP. If she’s fucking with you, nothing will scare her straight faster than an all-business, letterhead-stamped demand that she provide definitive proof of the pregnancy and subsequent DNA tests to prove paternity. And if you did get her pregnant, then it’s exceedingly wise to have a lawyer looking after your best (read: financial) interests.
I love the miracle of life, and I would never, ever suggest a man shirk his responsibilities as a father, but in this case you’re best off letting a professional navigate these potentially dangerous waters.
Football: Fantasy Draft is coming up, and I have the 8th spot out of 12. 6 pts for all touchdowns, otherwise regular rules . I’m thinking I want a QB first since I’m not in love with anyone else in that range (unless Rice falls to me somehow) and that either of Rogers or Brees will be available for my selection at the tail end of the first round. But my question is this: what do you think of my second pick matching teammates by choosing either Jennings or Colston effectively doubling my points each time that WR scores. The issue is, I would have to reach down a couple of slots to get them in the top end of the second round, but if I try and wait til the third, I will certainly miss them. A couple of years ago, my buddy did this strategy with a Brady and Moss combo during their peak and it was a goddamn blood bath.
Drafting teammates — particularly QB/WR combinations — can be a great approach, or it can blow up in your face. You’re obviously aware of the upside: double the points for passing touchdowns! But be cognizant of the downside, as well. For starters, you can pretty much write off their bye week. And what happens when your quarterback has an off week? It’s an almost guaranteed off week for your star wideout as well. And what if your QB gets injured and the guy on the bench sucks?
Honestly, I’m neither for nor against drafting teammates, but the strategic key in drafting is not going out of my way to avoid it or make it happen. Drafting Brees or Rogers with the eighth pick in a league where passing TDs are six points? That’s fucking savvy. Reaching for a matching #1 receiver in a potent offense with lots of options? I wouldn’t do it.
Not sex, but What is the best way to shave your balls? Perhaps just a trim down there? How far back into the taint do you venture? The idea of bringing a razor to my sack that has more wrinkles than Wilford Brimley terrifies me.
Oy. I hate this question. Not because it’s a bad question, but because I don’t EVER want to tell a man how to shave his balls. However, since you asked…
Electric clippers. A good rule of thumb is to not let sharp metal near your scrotum, so be sure to buy a set with plastic attachments. I’ll let you figure it out from there.
Fantasy: My fantasy league will celebrate its 10th anniversary next year. Since this league started in college most of us haven’t seen each other in years. We wanted to get together and celebrate in person. The leading suggestion thrown out was Vegas (obviously), but some of the members seem hesitant. They in turn suggested some random Caribbean island. Any advice here?
Have you ever been to the Mojave Desert in August? If the temperature stays under 115°, that’s a COOL day. If you’re planing on hiding in air-conditioning and drinking your face off, then you might as well go to New Orleans: better food, better people, and an actual culture instead of Vegas’s monolithic façades. And yes, there are casinos in the Big Easy as well.
Of course, most people would want to go somewhere fucking TEMPERATE in August. Why not rent a beach house in North Carolina or a cabin in Maine? Or hell, go to Vancouver. Vancouver’s fucking awesome. Plenty of drugs and hookers and nice weather. But really, as long as you’re with friends, booze, and wireless Internet, you’re going to have fun. Pick a location based on how much carousing and clubbing you want to do outside of the draft.
Sex: I’m on an epic dry-spell. I’m in law school and busy all the fucking time and it has now been so damn long I can’t help but think about it anytime I even talk to a girl i’m attracted to. In turn this causes me to be incredibly awkward and nervous (usually i’m just awkward). any advice for getting over the mental block and just acting like myself instead of a middle-school version of myself?
Super Karate Monkey Death Car
Story time: when I was stationed in the Mojave Desert, I spent most of my weekends with friends in San Diego or Los Angeles. And I’d sometimes meet a girl and think, “Hey, this is going well.” But the girls — for some reason — were never all that eager to wait a week or two to go on a first date with a guy who lived three and a half hours away in the desert. And so I went home alone, time and time and time again.
Eventually, my friends and I were just like, “Fuck it.” We’d go out to a bar in Palm Springs or Las Vegas or fucking Carlsbad, and we’d force each other to go speak to appointed girls. And we’d give each other completely retarded parameters that had to be followed: you had to tell her that you played varsity kickball in high school, you couldn’t speak to her for longer than two minutes, shit like that. The time constraint was key: you had to accept that you would speak to this woman for a certain amount of time, and then you’d walk away forever. Because you know what? You weren’t going home with her anyway.
The end result: we never got laid, but we had fun talking to women. Sometimes we made a pretty girl laugh, sometimes we made asses of ourselves, and occasionally — rarely, but often enough to be memorable — we nonchalantly walked away from a fun conversation, mid-sentence, with a sexy woman hanging on our words.
Now, I’m not saying YOU should walk away from women who are interested in you, because that would be idiotic. But there are two things to take away from me being a lonely, desperate dipshit: (1) accept that you’re not going to go home with a woman when you go out, and (2) talk to women anyway. When you convince yourself that there’s no pressure, there isn’t any. Simple as that.
I have one friend who traditionally dominates our 12-team fantasy league. I finished ahead of him last year, and as a result of a brilliant wager, I get to name his team for 2010-11. What is a suitably humiliating name, with lasting comedic value?
There are lots of ways you can go with this one: all sorts of inside jokes, digs against his favorite team or player, something outlandishly sexually deviant. But there’s one cut that goes deeper than the rest: “[His mother’s first and last name] Is a Whore.”
Dear Insert Witty Name for NFL/Dick Joke Bloggers here
Unoriginality aside, I’ve got no fantasy question for you. I’m a FFA card carrying member (Fantasy Footballaholics Anonymous) who stopped playing 2 seasons ago, after I joined 4 leagues the previous season and then found that real life interfered way too much with setting lineups and being the first guy on the waiver wire to get the hot goods, and consequently, mid-place finishes in all 4 leagues.
Oh, please. Sure, you had a little problem, but instead of learning from your mistake (obsession ≠success) and dialing it back, you quit altogether. You’re like the person who joins AA before they start drinking at work.
I would like to give you a little insight before I ask my sex question. I’m already 22, have had sex with one girl my entire life (2 years ago, and it was only once), have had little to no interest in dating ever since I graduated from high school 3 years ago (got tired of the bs), and generally avoid flirting with women like the plague. So I’d say I’m a pretty fucked up guy when it comes to women, and it’s painfully obvious to all my friends/coworkers/etc., that I need some female interaction in my life and soon before all hope ends completely.
Two thoughts. (1) Don’t be such a drama queen. (2) “Tired of the B.S.”? Are you fucking kidding me? At the age of 22 you should be willing to swim through 6 miles of bullshit to get pussy. You’re not allowed to get “tired of the BS” until the rigmarole of bedding a woman is actually familiar to you. You’re not tired of the bullshit; you’re just lazy. Or gay.
So I recently met a spanish chick who works at a Giant up the street from my job and she’s the first decent looking and intelligent girl I’ve met in who knows how long and I feel like she’d be a safe bet to have a relationship with. But since I haven’t tried anything in so long and everybody keeps telling me trying to start a relationship with a chick who knows you as a customer at the store she works at is a bad idea, mainly due to the whole customer/worker thing, and the whole, don’t give out your number to customers perception that exists, basically it’s doomed to fail, especially with me not being good with chicks due to extreme rustiness in that dep’t.
So all I’m looking for is a little advice as to how to approach this situation and maybe get her number or ask her out. We don’t share a lot of common ground, me being heavily sarcastic/not very confident after this long period of inactivity/sports and heavy metal and her probably being into none of the above. Also sorry for the long letter, as I know you guys aren’t fans of that, but yeah.
Good God, I’m going to rename this column Letters from Eeyore. “I guess I should ask this girl out, but I don’t know how and it probably wouldn’t work anyway because I’m not very good with girls.”
Come on! You’re over-thinking it. It’s not like you have to work up the courage to speak to a lingerie model at a black-tie affair; she’s a fucking GROCERY CHECKOUT GIRL for God’s sake. (I don’t mean that cashiers can’t be smart/fun/intelligent people, just that they’re not exactly unapproachable).
Just make a habit of engaging in some flirty small talk when you check out. For example, if it’s Thursday or Friday, ask her if she has any big plans for the weekend. If it’s Monday, ask if she had a good weekend. When you establish a little bit of a rapport with her, you should say, “It’s always nice seeing you. I’m B.A., by the way.” Then she’ll tell you her name, and you can be all, “Good to know, I was afraid you used an alias on your name tag.” If that gets received well, then the next time it’s slow and there are no other customers watching you mack on the cashier, ask if she wants to get a drink some time. If she seems hesitant, you can give her your number and put the ball in her court. Maybe she calls, maybe she doesn’t, but at least you can walk away knowing that you stopped being a little bitch about talking to women.
Ron Artest approved Tru Warriors,
Whoa, stop there. If you’re going with the official Artest spelling, it’s “Tru Warier.”
I can only assume that the plural is Warierz.
Football: When is the earliest you would recommend taking a rookie RB? I’m dead set on drafting CJ Spiller, but I don’t want to reach for him. Currently I’d take him no earlier than the 4th.
REACH. Fred Jackson is no slouch, and Marshawn Lynch is still gumming up that depth chart. Spiller has huge upside and he may very well have a breakout year, but a 4th-round pick is too valuable to use on an unproven commodity. Hold off until the 5th round.
Sex: About a month ago, me and my longtime (is a year and a half long?) girlfriend are fooling around in our bed after a night of fireworks, BBQ and heavy drinking at our mutual friend’s place. We met in college; I graduated two years ago, she graduated this year and is staying with me for the time being. She was definitely a little tipsy and stoned but I was completely obliterated. Things are heating up as they usually do with us when she leans into me and whispers in my ear something no person had ever asked me before,
“I want you to tell me your biggest sexual fantasy.”
“Really?” I reply.
“Yeah!” she says, looking up into my eyes, nodding her head and grinning.
And then, I do it. Instead of just saying a sex position or some role playing or whatever it was she was expecting me to say, I slip into the deep recesses of my mind and actually answer the question honestly, telling her the biggest fantasy I’ve held my entire life; the extremely specific, extremely depraved dream I’ve been thinking of ever since I was in junior high.
“I want to fuck two non-identical sisters at the same time, and I want to watch them eat each other out.”
She turns ghost white.
“You’re fucking sick. I can’t believe you would ask me that.” She gets up and bolts for the door, beginning to cry.
Suddenly, it dawns on me. Her sister was coming over that weekend to visit for the 4th of July.
You have to believe me when I say, emphatically, that I was not thinking of her and her sister when I recited my fantasy. I was thinking in the abstract of a thing I had wanted to have happen long before I knew either of them; I would never, ever, ever, ask her (or her sister) to do something like that in real life. I got her back in the room, and, apologizing profusely, tried to explain what had happened. Eventually she calmed down and we went to sleep, but I knew she didn’t believe me, and to this day still thinks I tried to proposition her into a three way with her sister. The weekend visit from her sister went off without incident, aside from her pulling me aside just before little sis arrived and saying, coldly, “Not one word to her about this.” I guess she thought I was going to try my wicked ways again. Things have basically calmed down since then. I think we’ve both done our best to put it behind us. She’s forgiven me in her mind for the non-existent proposition. So I guess my question is this; is this just one of those things that no good could ever come from speaking about again? Her not believing me really shook me up; then again the words that came out of my mouth probably shook her up even worse.
If I were you, I definitely would never, ever want to revisit that moment again. The only potential pitfall to recovery is if she HASN’T truly forgiven you or let it go. And you’ll never know if she hasn’t let it go unless she lets out her anger and resentment all at once, using it as a knife to bury deep into your ribs and twist around until she hits every major organ. Metaphorically speaking. Probably.
Anyway, I’d suggest trying to forget about it unless you feel that something is amiss.
Oh, and two sisters eating each other out? Kinda fucked up, dude.
Sex: My ex, we’ll call her Pig Whore. Actually, her name was Sarah, but I had it legally changed to Pig Whore.
Nicknames help in the healing process. There was a period of several years where one of the names in my phone was “Eater of Souls.”
Anyway, Pig Whore decided that it would be a good thing to break up with me after nearly 5 years to date a guy about 15 years older than her (PW’s 29) who shortly after became unemployed and homeless with no car. I feel for the guy, I mean, what’s a grown man to do that’s in his 40’s and his resume says: Cook? But I’m not bitter. Recently though, Pig Whore realized she made a horrible, colossal mistake and wrote me a letter proclaiming what an idiot she is and that I am the greatest man alive. All true of course. My question: Should I bang her and then throw my cat on her face? No, that’s not a euphemism. And I would appreciate it if no one made ‘grown man with cat jokes.’ Susan’s an angel!
I’m certain others will disagree with me, but I think a simple “Fuck you” and cutting her out of your life is more satisfying than getting in one last screw and telling her to get out (or throwing a cat in her face). I won’t often suggest you take life cues from “True Blood,” but keep in mind the gruesomely hilarious vampire hate-fuck from earlier this season: even though Bill brought nothing but hate to the act of sex, his evil ex Lorena still derived pleasure from it.
However, if you do choose to sleep with her, I’d advise against snapping her neck 180 degrees. Unless she’s a vampire, of course.
Fantasy Football: This will be my first year playing. What do I do, and why is it so fantastical?
Love always, Prick Top
I dunno. Just feels good, man.
Purveyors of Uff-tastic insight:
What is the appropriate amount of time after death that a dignified individual ought to let lapse before hitting on a widow? To what degrees are suddenness of death, amount of children, your relationship-or-lack-thereof with the deceased, and hotness of the widow a factor? I’m sure you can shoot a thoughtful answer straight from the hip, but a completely inappropriate, overly-generalized scale would be fun, too.
Hmmm. I’d say the average waiting period should be in the neighborhood of six months. Add three months for every child under the age of 18. However, all guidelines are null if (a) she’s super-hot or (b) her husband was a dick.
Fantasy (that doesn’t involve a particular MILF in mourning): My league goes completely over the top for fantasy drafts, which is welcomed by all participants. Plans are already in place for this year, and one of the ideas floating around for next season is doing it while on a cruise. Having never been on one (it will likely be a 3- or 5-day deal along Mexico), I’m wondering if it would be logically feasible to hold a draft while on a boat (I’m on a boat!).
Thank you kindly,
Of course it’s feasible. I’m not sure if I’d recommend it, however. Boats aren’t the best places for Wi-Fi, and boats going to Mexico are even less reliable in that regard. Of course, since you’re doing a live draft, wireless Internet isn’t an absolute necessity — but it’s a crutch every fantasy owner likes to have.
Frankly, while I enjoy a fun fantasy draft, I wouldn’t want one to get in the way of a cruise to Mexico. I don’t get too many chances to expose my skin to sunlight, so I wouldn’t want to be in a room talking fantasy football with a bunch of dudes when I could be sitting poolside and looking at women in bikinis.
Fantasy: In my draft lottery, I ended up with the last pick in the first round in a 12-team no keeper league, so I have picks twelve and thirteen. The top guys will obviously be gone by the time I pick, but after them it seems like a sea of comparable talent. Can you give me three or four candidates for these picks that you think may still be around and worth it at the end of the first round/beginning of the second? In the first round everybody picks pretty predictably, according to the league listing of best available.
I’d recommend using one of your picks on a top-flight quarterback: Rodgers and Brees are the most popular options here; Brady and Manning are also great options, but might be considered slight reaches. However, if you wait until the 3rd/4th round, they’re not going to be there.
With the best running backs likely off the board, your other pick will probably be a #1 WR. I’d put Andre Johnson at the top of that list, followed by Larry Fitzgerald, whose numbers are likely to dip with the departures of Anquan Boldin and Kurt Warner.
Sex: For the past month or so I’ve been fooling around on my husband with another woman.
Giggety! Er, shame on you!
She’s a mutual acquaintance, but not a close friend. It’s not a full-fledged affair. We haven’t had sex, and I have no intention of leaving my husband. I don’t love her. I love my husband, and have never cheated on him before, or wanted to.
I’m sure this will come up, so…yes, he knew I was bisexual before started dating. I didn’t even miss sex with women (or anyone else but him) until six months ago, when my husband’s father died. It happened very suddenly and his father was only forty-nine. The two of them had a very dysfunctional relationship and his father’s death left a lot of things unresolved.
Since then there hasn’t just been no sex, there’s been almost no marriage at all. I understand that he’s grieving and messed up by all of this and I’ve tried to draw him out, but he’s been shutting me out completely. Months of helplessness have made me lonely and depressed, and I got drunk one night with our mutual female acquaintance who needs a name so let’s call her Claire, and did something that I’ll admit was weak and stupid. Then I did it two more times. Trust me, I’m not proud of this.
Both times I tried to confess this to him he said he didn’t want to talk about it and left the room. I don’t think he did this because he knows what happened. To my knowledge, he doesn’t even talk to Claire anymore. I think he assumed I was trying to bring up painful fatherly subjects and didn’t want to deal with it. I know I could have followed him out of the room and shouted, “I screwed around with Claire!” and gotten it off my chest, but I knew he was already upset.
I don’t want to hide this from him. Sometimes I’ve thought that telling him might wake him up to the problems in our relationship so we could at least have an argument and clear the air, even if I don’t want to add a straying wife to his list of issues.
Sorry, I’d intended this to be an ‘if a guy’s bisexual wife messed around with another women, would he be more likely to count it as cheating or be turned on by it?’ sort of question, but now that I’m reading the whole situation laid out like that…God. This has to be the least sexy girl-on-girl action question you’ve ever gotten.
…which means it’s still sexier than 99% of all mailbag question.
Given my husband’s state of mind at the moment, should I force the issue and tell him? Or should I hold back and give him more time to deal with his dad’s death before piling this on top everything else? Before his father died, he probably would have just thought it was funny and/or hot (he’s not possessive on principle), but these days I have no idea. His confidence is shot and he’s mentioned more than once that he thinks I’m going to leave him because of all of this. I don’t want to hurt him if there’s any way to avoid it. So…advice?
Trying Not to be Shady Lady
Okay, you’ve kind of got two big issues here. The first deals with your messing around with Claire. To me, it sounds like you’ve engaged in a minor act of infidelity in an attempt to get your husband’s attention. That’s why you’ve tried to tell him: it’s less to get the guilt off your chest than it is a way to draw him back into your life. At least, that’s my theory. It’s good to keep in mind that not only am I NOT a licensed therapist, but I never even took freshman psychology in college.
The second issue — and more problematic in my eyes — is your husband’s inability to cope with the loss of his father. I don’t doubt that it was a traumatic shock for him; God knows I’d be a fucking mess if I lost one of my parents right now. But at some point, we have to get on with our lives. Someone died, yes, but that isn’t an excuse to stop living. And it’s certainly not an excuse to neglect the people who love you. I’m empathetic to people who’ve lost loved ones — I’d bet I know more people who died before the age of 30 than most people reading this — but there comes a point when it’s time to BE A FUCKING MAN and get on with your life.
However, if he isn’t sufficiently shamed by pictures of soldiers on D-Day, then he needs to seek guidance from a professional to help him deal with his grief.
And maybe throw in some couples’ counseling while you’re at it. You know, because you’re hooking up with women and he thinks you’re going to leave him.