Looking back over the last year, I have no major regrets—but I do have some small ones. For example, the last time I was interviewed by SexLife LIVE host Dane Ballard, he informed me that his genital PSI was such that when his dick was hard, someone could slam it in a car door and his erotic enthusiasm would remain undiminished.

I truly regret not getting out my calendar right then and there and making a date with him to road-test his belief. I mean, what kind of car door are we talking about here, Dane? A ragtop Jeep, with those flimsy little doors? Or one of the old two-door Cadillacs, where each door is about four feet long and weighs a ton? I think we'd have to do some controlled experiments to really say for sure. But the whole exercise sounds win-win to me, and I should have seized the opportunity while the cameras were rolling.

Genital-impact play aside, I have a few regrets about things I've said in this column. For one thing, I attempted to debunk several deeply beloved myths of the kink world, and I am still getting hate mail about it.

Perhaps the most fervently disputed notion came up in the March 3 issue, in which I said the idea that a dominant could teach a female submissive to instantly orgasm on command, without any direct physical stimulation whatsoever, was fallacious. I pointed out that there are distinct physiological phases of female sexual arousal, and you can't just skip them. I had one female physician who specialized in treating anorgasmic women write me and say thank you. The rest of the mail: Pissy heterosexual male dominants telling me I knew nothing about women's orgasms. Wow, I had no idea how much my suggestion that female submissives might possibly be faking those instantaneous orgasms would upset certain male dominants. If I had, I'd have written about it much sooner.

Other sexual-iconoclast moments: June 30, the "Gigolo Matrix" column. The e-mails I got about this column seemed written more in sorrow than in anger, but I did hear from some would-be gigolos who felt that by expressing my opinion that women very rarely pay men for sex, I was dampening the market for their manly wares. Yeah, right—because I've trained all the women who would otherwise be paying them for sex not to orgasm at my command.

Then there was the August 25 column about the inherent danger of erotic breath control. Dear readers, please believe me—no matter how lyrically you describe to me the beauty of your oxygen-deprived orgasms, I still don't think they're worth risking death for.

The October 13 column, "The A-Word," proved a mixed blessing. By listing some of the more extreme kink behaviors in an attempt to dissuade people from saying they'll "do anything," I think I frightened some of you. Upside: Some of my ever-helpful pals sent me still more suggestions for scary possibilities with which to threaten the unwary. (Bees? Super Glue? Jumper cables? You people are just wrong, I tell you. And I love you for it.)

I guess I can't say I regret those columns, since I still think I'm correct. The one set of columns I do truly regret are the phone-calls columns. Yes, I know, everyone loves reading about my conversations with the silly weirdoes who call me up. And I liked doing them, because with the odd phone calls I get, good lord, those columns practically wrote themselves. So everyone was happy, except my potential clients, who apparently weren't clear on what kinds of phone calls would—or would not—land them in print. Guys, calling me up to ask me if I do, say, cross-dressing, is just fine. Calling me up to ask me if I'll amputate your penis? That does have certain comedic potential. But never fear, I'm hereby swearing off writing about you, no matter how strange your questions are. I have to make sure my bottoms feel safe and respected before I do nasty things to them. How else I am going to get someone to let me slam his dick in a car door?





Burlesque! Fenix Underground, 109 S Washington St, 405-4314, 9 pm, ladies free.

FRIDAY 12/30


Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, questioning, dykes, genderqueers, transfolk, and transgendered people socialize, ï¬?irt, fuck, and do BDSM. Wet Spot, 270-9746 or DFK@wetspot.org, 10 pm–3 am, membership required, $15.


Discuss the rewards, the pitfalls, and the potential disasters of polyamory in all its forms, with someone who’s done it for 30-plus years. School of One, 523-5544, www.schoolofone.com, 8 pm –10 pm, $20 donation requested.



No booze (or obnoxious drunks), just yummy food, dancing, sex, and play. No dress code, but hey, it’s New Year’s Eve—get dolled up! Dinner, breakfast, and party favors included. Wet Spot, 270-9746 or newyears@wetspot.org, 8 pm–3 am, $35, membership and RSVP required.


A four-day extravaganza at the New Horizons swing club. The action begins Thursday and continues through Sunday with lavish dinners, live music, formal-dress parties, and of course, a lot of sex. Orientation required for all guests and new members, membership and party fees vary, www.horizonsclub.com for info and reservations.



Love to suffer? Then why not subject your head-pounding New Year’s Day hangover to some imaginatively awful torture? Practice the cymbals! Visit the dog pound! Go to a gun range! The skull-splitting possibilities are limited only by your kinky imagination.