T.F.A.Q. (Too-Frequently Asked Questions)

One of the reasons I have a weekly-ish bit in which I answer reader questions is because I get a lot of questions. A lot of questions. Guys find one of my sex site profiles and shoot me queries there. My email inbox gets snowed under, sometimes, with inquiries from well-wishers or just the curious.

You know, there’s nothing wrong with the curiosity. I invite the questions by keeping so open a record of my sexual adventures. I know I write in a way that some people find personal and engaging. I tend to do things for a reason, rather than just random spur-of-the-moment randomness. I know that to some, the combination of my ordinariness and my sexual bravado encourages intimacy. That’s fine.

But I have to admit that there are some questions I get asked over and over and over again, to the point that when I see them, all I want to do is roll my eyes. Any regular reader of my blog knows the answer to these questions from memory, I’m certain. The top five go a little something like this:

What are your fantasies?

My fantasy is never to be asked this question again.

My impression of guys who enjoy talking about fantasies is that they clearly intend to leave them in the realm of the unapproached and the never-acted-upon. My sex life sailed from that particular dock many years ago. If you’re asking my fantasies just to see what makes me tick, you’re taking the wrong approach. Pick a handful of entries from my back log at random and read them. That’ll teach you more about me than any fantasy I could share, if I had any.

I see you like kink. I’m kinky too! What kind of kink do you like?

I don’t have a set agenda, or a pet fetish. I’m very open to all kinds of sexual activity.

Almost every time I’m asked this question, it’s a set-up for disappointment; I think I’m about to discover someone who’s into something so vile and perverted and exotic that the activity has only been described once, in a Latin scrivening found only in the locked archives of the Vatican. I’m prepared for all kinds of unholy revelations that will make me recoil and cover my ears and search fruitlessly for something to take the taste of sweet sin from my mouth. Then the guy will say something like, Yeah! I’m into sniffing feet! Or Yeah! I like rimming!

People, rimming is not kink.

The basic rule of thumb here: if you’ve looked at my profiles and you’ve read my blog and you still have to ask me what kind of kink I like, chances are very good that your definition of kink and my definition of kink are on very different scales.

How do you find the time to have all the sex you have?

I’ve answered this question more than any other. The facts are these.

While I have a lot of sex, I’m not at it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I do make time for sexual encounters because they’re important to me—the same way I make time for my work, my family, for meals, and for reading. You make time for things in your life, whether it be working out, or hitting your local bar, or playing Angry Birds.

Chances are that if you spent less time in front of your computer looking at internet porn, or masturbating, you could find time to have actual sex as well. It might be scarier and less of a sure thing than your right hand, and sure, you might have to face rejection every now and then. But chances are you’d find it better than that free porn clip site you have no problems visiting for multiple hours a week . . . or a day.

Does your spouse/family/parents/co-workers know about your sex life? What do they think about that?

I don’t talk about my home life on my blog for a reason. I don’t respond to the question when people email me privately to ask. This is really an area that’s pretty much off-limits, period.

I know that the fact I draw a line frustrates some people. They don’t seem to realize that I’ve given over a lot of my personal life and my history in the pages of this sex journal. I share a lot of information. Instead of being thankful for what I do share, however, with a certain subset of readers the fact that I don’t share all the information that piques their curiosities, upon demand, infuriates them. They push, and push, and when I remain silent on the matter, they stomp off angry. Sometimes very angry.

All I really ask is please recognize that I do draw occasional lines. I’m consistent about them. Challenging me, or damning me when I do, won’t make me change my mind.

As I state in the sidebar of my blog, your assumptions about my home life are simply that. Assumptions. I’m not asking anyone for details of his life than he doesn’t want to share. Please respect me in the same way.

It’s crazy that you invite guys back to your house for sex! I can’t believe that happens!!

I’ve written about my teenage whoring, getting paid to jerk off for a married guy, getting rimmed by someone’s over-intimate dog, a guy who serviced my feet while I wore his dad’s socks, and a fellow whose fetish was to shampoo my hair while I sucked him off, and you’re balking at the notion that I’d have sex in my own home?

Seriously?