Rob McKenna didn't write this.

The prospect of writing today's "Savage Love Letter of the Day" gave me pause. But some younger members of my staff convinced me to play along. While Mr. Savage has made several large campaign donations to my opponent, and while that is one of the reasons I've declined to speak with any of the "reporters" on the staff of his newspaper, I must say that I respect the what Mr. Savage has accomplished with his advice column. Mr. Savage found a way to monetize both his penchant for profanity and his appalling sexual "ethics." And while I don't think Mr. Savage should be able to legally marry in Washington state, and while I believe that what Mr. Savage did to my good friend Rick Santorum was in bad taste, I do appreciate Mr. Savage's contributions to our local economy in the form of property and business tax revenues.

Mr. Savage was kind enough to send me a few softball questions from his "Savage Love" email account. My apologies in advance to readers who were hoping to get a response from Mr. Savage himself.

So I want to buy my girl some nice lingerie, but it's obviously a death wish to buy some and if it winds up being the wrong size. Snooping around to find out her sizes just seems creepy. How do I solve this dilemma? I've asked and she won't tell me. She just laughs it off.—Panty Chaser

I had a similar dispute with my wife a few years ago. Perhaps it's an overstatement to call it a "dispute." It was more of a disconnect. I surprised the wife with some lingerie that I had purchased for her and she professed delight when she opened the package. But time went by and she never wore the lingerie. As it turned out my tastes didn't quite "align" with her own. (And we will leave it at that.) But I solved that problem by purchasing her a gift certificate. She selected lingerie that appealed to her and all was and remains well. Perhaps your girlfriend is reluctant to share her sizes with you because, as was the case in my relationship, your significant other does not share your precise taste in frilly undergarments. I would advise you to go the gift certificate route.

Let's make this really simple: I am a gay male and I want to know how to tell my boyfriend without weirding him out that I have a foot fetish.—Boy's Foot Fetishist

Consider the sexual activities that homosexual men not only engage in routinely, BFF, but seem to regard as grimly "vanilla." I speak of anal intercourse, oral intercourse, and oral-anal contact, three sex acts considered quite shocking by most of the heterosexuals that I personally know. (You can call them prudes and squares, if you like, but I prefer to call them hardworking mainstream Americans.) As your boyfriend is presumably accustomed to placing his tongue on your anus, and as doing so somehow fails to "weird him out," I can't see why he would object to placing his tongue on your foot, BFF. Okay, I only have time for one more (I am running for governor)...

My fuck-buddy made out with another one of my friends. I'm fine with the fuck-buddy making out with (or doing whatever else with) whomever she wants, as long as they're not my friends. In any case, my question isn't about the fuck-buddy. I'm not sure how to feel about the other friend. Is there a standing rule of friendship that any active, sexual relationship a person has with your friend renders that person off-limits without the express consent of your friend? Effectively, Dick and Jane are fuck-buddies; Jane is hot; Dick's your friend. Is Jane up for grabs?—Disappointed In Comrades Kissing

If you would like sexual exclusive rights to Jane—or your "f***buddy," as you so delicately put it—you should consider making and honoring a lifelong commitment to her. A lifelong monogamous commitment. Absent that sort of commitment, DICK, you have no right to place restrictions on who else your f*** buddy f***s.

That was easier than I thought it would be. If I don't win the election—and I plan on winning this election—I may start an advice column of my own.