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|Dear Miss Information,
Recently, a touring band crashed at my friend’s house and I hooked up with the bassist. I was drunk, and the next morning I realized I’d been totally off my game in bed. Now I’m embarrassed, and his band is coming through town again. Should I try to hook up with him, or cut my losses and steer clear? — Rock My Socks Off
Dear Rock My Socks Off,
Enough with the analyzing. Fuck him. You’re young. You’re single. Why the hell not? You’re not trashing your marriage and spending your kid’s college fund to follow some dickhead across the country. The fact that he’s coming to your neighborhood just seals it. What we’ve got here is a 50/50 chance of getting some delivered straight to your door. Most groupies would be thrilled with those odds.
One thing that strikes me about your letter is how sheepish you are. Tell me, what exactly is embarrassing about having screwed a hot rocker? So you weren’t your level best. Big deal. Like you said, you were boozy, and it seldom goes smoothly the first time. He’s just a guy who happens to be in a band. That’s all. He farts, he gets zits and he probably got picked on in junior high. Unless he can levitate or pull bunnies out of his ass, you need to stop ascribing him such a lofty status.
I’m going to give you a little required reading: I’m With the Band by Pamela Des Barres and The Happy Hooker by Xaviera Hollander. Some people call these women sluts, but I like to think of them as “sex-positive.” Give them a read and make up your own mind. If anything, they’re good for making a girl feel downright demure in comparison.
Now go get dressed in your slutty best, go to the show and see what happens. Go easy on the alcohol — the prey usually goes to the swiftest and sharpest, and you might have competition. I don’t want to be a naysayer, but keep in mind that this kind of happening is usually difficult to recreate. All the planets (Pluto notwithstanding) need to align, so go into it with the attitude that it’s not going to go down. Then you’ll be pleasantly surprised if it does.
|Dear Miss Information,
I’m going through a breakup with a man who cheated on me throughout our relationship. Now that I’m out of this bad situation, I’m ready to have sex with someone else. I want whomever I sleep with to have an AIDS test first and tell me the result (I would still make him use a condom as well, because I know there are other diseases). My friends argue that’s going too far. Am I being too uptight? — Happily Healthy
Dear Happily Healthy,
Picture your vagina as an exclusive club with your brain as the bouncer — you have complete control over who gets in the door. The clubs up the street? Fuck ’em. They can admit manwhores like Jack Nicholson, for all you care. You make your own entry policies.
I agree with your friends: your particular policy is on the strict side. However, I don’t think asking for an AIDS test is so unreasonable that it’s going to turn off the overwhelming majority of guys. A few impatient one-night stands, maybe. But every single eligible male on planet Earth? No. Your club is very exclusive, and most guys will do whatever it takes to get in.
I don’t think your friends are giving you bad advice, they’re just not taking your relationship history into account. It’s like telling someone who almost drowned that they’re overdoing it by wearing an inner-tube and floaties. They should be heaping praise on you for even jumping in the water. Not everyone knows how or where to get an AIDS test, and it’s one of those tasks people love to put off. So compile the names, addresses and appointment hours of a few nearby clinics and have this information readily available for your next partner. Suddenly he’s out of excuses.
Finally, since safety is such a big issue, you might want to ask your bedmate for some sort of physical record of the test results. As you learned with your previous relationship, deception can occur no matter what the level of commitment. The best you can do is make positive choices and not be put off by what your friends say. They probably wish they had your chutzpah. n°
©2006 Erin Bradley and Nerve.com