Savage Love Podcast
Got a question for Dan Savage?
Call the Savage Love Podcast at 206-201-2720
or email Dan at email@example.com.
Savage Love Archives
Crazy in Love
Working Out the Kinks
More from Dan Savage
SL Letter of the Day: The Right Not To Know
LAPD Detains Black Woman for Kissing White Boyfriend
This Is an IKEA Ad
What Happens After the Fall of Mars Hill?
SL Letter of the Day: Bummed
Books by Dan Savage
- American Savage
- It Gets Better: Coming Out, Overcoming Bullying, and Creating a Life Worth Living
- The Commitment: Love, Sex, Marriage, and My Family
- Things I've Learned from Women Who've Dumped Me
- Skipping Towards Gomorrah
- The Kid: What Happened After My Boyfriend and I Decided to Go Get Pregnant
Want a Second Opinion?
Contact Dan Savage
November 27, 2003
Confused About Tampons
In selecting your letter for the column, CAT, it wasn't my intention to pile on top of Michael Jackson. The King of Pop had a terrible week: On Tuesday, November 18, police raided Jackson's ranch in California looking for evidence in connection with an accusation of--did anyone see this one coming?--child molestation. By the end of the week, Jackson had been arrested, surrendered his passport, and posted bail. A pop star hasn't had such a bad week since Nick Lachey married Jessica Simpson.
What do Jackson's woes have to do with you? Well, your letter arrived in my office on Thursday, November 13, five days before the raid on Neverland. And I was sitting at my computer on November 18, composing a typically thoughtful response, when my office mate screamed, "Dan! Go to the Drudge Report--now!"
But wait! It gets weirder: Not only was I writing a response to your question when I heard the news about Jackson, I was writing about Jackson in my response!
I can't imagine that this is going to make you feel better about your fetish--it certainly won't make you feel normal, CAT--but you're not alone. None other than Michael Jackson--the King of Pop, the artist of the millennium, America's most wanted--has been accused in print of sharing your fetish. In 1995 a book called Michael Jackson Was My Lover was published in Chile. (A tiny press in San Francisco also released a version in 1997.) Written by Victor M. Gutierrez, Michael Jackson... claims to tell the story of "the boy who sued the King of Pop." And on page 64 there's this rather inelegant chapter title: "Jackson's Use of Enemas and Tampons."
If Jackson puts tampons up his butt--a big if, considering the source, but putting tampons in your butt is less freaky than some of the things Jackson has admitted to doing--this book answers two of your questions, CAT: "Is this normal?" and, "Do other people share this pleasure?" Yes, at least one other person would appear to share your pleasure--but since that person may be Michael Jackson, you're definitely not normal. You're a freak by association, I'm sad to say. Your perversion lacks a name, so far as I can tell, so I hereby dub it the "Action Jackson," or AJ for short.
So what gets you off about sticking tampons up your butt? First, there are the physical sensations. The clitoris is a complicated web of tissues, CAT, and not just the exposed bit above your vagina. As the growing tampon expands in your butt, it may press on your interior clitoral tissues, and this may be what's getting you off. Or you may be aroused by the sheer filthy, perverse, taboo-shattering what-the-hell of it all. While you can re-create the feeling of a tampon expanding in your butt by purchasing an inflatable butt plug, if what's getting you off is the perversity of it all, CAT, you'll have to keep AJing your brains out.
Your love for Ashton Kutcher seems to have dribbled away. Gone are the days when you showered your love on Ashton Kutcher in print, and expressed desires to shower him with so much more. Has the young actor's hyper-publicized affair with an older, hard-bodied celebrity non-actress dimmed his star in your eyes?
Whither Ashton, Dan?
Ashton is just as beautiful as ever, WAD, and, no, his relationship with Demi Moore doesn't bother me a bit. Nevertheless, I can't deny that my love for Ashton has cooled. Just last weekend I saw the preview for the new Steve Martin movie, Cheaper by the Dozen, and there was a 15-second clip of a dog sinking his teeth into Ashton's ass. The dog refused to let go, and you can hear the dog chewing and chomping as Ashton, sprawled out on his stomach, howls in pain. A year ago I would've given anything to be that dog. But I felt nothing.
What gives? This isn't a simple case of "I was into Ashton before he was hip but now that everyone else worships him...." I'm not some hipster who decides his favorite band is crap the minute the group hits it big. No, I'm afraid it's worse than that, WAD. You see... there's another man. I'm sorry, Ashton, but I'm in love with Trent Ford now.
When I first wrote about Ashton Kutcher in my column--pre-Punk'd, pre-Just Married, pre-Demi, pre-Pulitzer Prize--most of the mail I got in response went something like this: "Who's Ashton Kutcher?" I expect I'll get similar mail about Trent now--about beautiful, smart, tall, gorgeous Trent. People laughed about my obsession with Ashton; I was accused of thinking with my dick. But my dick was right about Ashton--he's a big star now--and I predict that my dick will be right about Trent Ford. Check out the Sept./Oct. 2003 issue of V Magazine, WAD. There's a photo spread of Trent in there that will make you say "Ashton who?"
I'm a straight guy, age 22. When I'm fucking my girlfriend, I sometimes dive down on her muff to rev her up. My dick tends to deflate when I'm eating her out, and that's the problem. When my girl is good and revved, she pulls me up and wants me to stick my dick back in. But by then I'm not hard enough. I need her to suck me or stroke me for a bit before I'm ready to go again. Is this solvable?
Soft Headed Boy
Sticking with this week's celebrity theme, SHB, I'm going to advise you to watch the Paris Hilton sex tape--not for prurient purposes, of course, but because it demonstrates a basic and very useful sexual technique. I get a lot of letters from guys who worry about their tendency to go limp when their dicks aren't the center of attention--i.e., when they eat pussy, pause to put on a condom, or their girlfriends jump out of bed to answer their cell phones. As you watch the Paris Hilton sex tape, SHB, pay close attention to Miss Hilton's co-star's right hand. Whenever Paris isn't sitting on, sucking, or being impaled by Rick Solomon's huge, green, and beautiful dick, he's stroking himself, keeping his dick rock hard and ready for its triumphant reentry into Paris. Emulate Rick Solomon, SHB, and your dick will always be ready.
Hey, Dan, with the holiday season not too far off, here's a suggestion: Last year, you asked your readers to send in their worst (sex-related) holiday experiences. This year, why not do just the opposite? Let's all send you our favorite, fondest, most cherished (sex-related) holiday experiences. I've got mine all picked out and ready to send in.
Holidays Are Sexy
Great idea, HAS. Send your most cherished sex-related holiday experiences to holidays@ savagelove.net, kids. The best stories will appear in a special holiday-memories installment of Savage Love.
And next week... news of my new all-santorum, all-the-time website!
Dan Savage's newest book, Skipping Towards Gomorrah, is out in paperback.