DEAR ANDREA: The guy having "accidental" anal sex
with his sleeping wife is nonsense; it's just a Penthouse Forum
letter. Anyone who's so loose while asleep that it could "accidentally"
slip in would also need to wear diapers while sleeping.
You're right that it isn't rape, even if it did happen, which it didn't.
There are way too many people out there who subscribe to some very simplistic
sexual-correctness views that don't result in anyone having better sex.
And your point that rape must be "called" by a victim is right
on. Outsiders can't take a look at just one little bit of information
about a situation and decide what's right and wrong.
Love,
Grey Area
Dear Area: Sometimes it's obvious a crime has been committed, sometimes,
well ... have I told the parable of the Begrudged Blow Jobs?
Some years back a few friends and I were out at a bar, talking about
sex and consent and those college sexual behavior guidelines ("May
I touch your arm?" "Yes." "May I touch your shoulder?"
"Yes," and so on). Those codes have since gone the way of
"coeds" and curfews for young ladies, but the stubborn refusal
of human sexual experience to sort itself into neat categories (I'm
OK, you've been victimized) goes on.
Nobody likes to talk about this, but people with regular partners
often have sex they don't particularly want – sometimes it's easier
and yes, nicer, just to go along with it even if you'd really rather
finish your book or watch Conan. It's just one of the many accommodations
we make to those we love. Just as common but not nearly so cozy are
the times we have sex we really don't want, with people we'd rather
not have to touch, just to make a situation or a person go away and
leave us alone.
"I don't know how many guys I blew, just to make some drunk
guy fall asleep or go away already," someone admitted, looking
around at the other women crammed into the booth. "What about you?
Ever give a blow job you didn't want to give?"
One by one, each of the women raised a hand, and then one of the
men, followed by all of them. We had had sex we really didn't want,
just to get out of an uncomfortable, tedious, or potentially unpleasant
(but not violent) situation. A small sample, granted, but made up of
highly educated, feminist-ish, oh-so-evolved longtime sex educators.
Not one of us identified as a victim or survivor of rape, and not just
because we didn't want to. It wouldn't have been accurate or right.
If everyone's a "victim," what does that say to the real victims?
"You and everybody else, babe"? However grudgingly and with
however many regrets, we'd consented to the sex acts, and that makes
all the difference.
As for your contention that Night Poker was lying about slipping
it in as his wife sawed logs, that was my conclusion. Not so much because
of physical impossibility, but because he sounded like a wanker. His
follow-up letter, in which he said he hadn't meant to be porny and admitted
his wife was furious at him, was pretty convincing.
Love,
Andrea
Dear Andrea. We're only 11 but we wanna have sex but we're lesbians
what should we do?
Love, Preteen Lesbos
Dear Lesbos: Oh, you are not.
Love,
Andrea
Dear Andrea: I am having a beautiful affair with a Frenchwoman. I have
had a few lovers, but she has had literally hundreds, I believe. This
makes me jealous. She says I am "unique," which is a perfect
example of what a refined, sophisticated, and knowledgeable woman would
say. She says she felt used and abused by most men – she seemed
attracted to Don Juans. What am I to make of this? What is she saying
to me?
Love,
I'm So Jealous, and She's So French
Dear Jealous: Literally hundreds, you say? Is it possible she's
blowing Gitane smoke up your cul?
This isn't real life; this is a movie, cast in my mind with a smoky,
mature Simone Signoret and a particularly callow and prominently larynxed
Matthew Broderick. Have your French adventure and don't waste time feeling
jealous of her phantom lovers. Soon enough she will take up smoking
opium and die in obscurity in a cellar in Shanghai.
