I wish to address an open letter to Mr. Dan Savage of Seattle, Washington, author of the Stranger’s popular and risque sex advice column Savage Love.

As a brief sidebar, I am a member of Heartless Bitches International.  I think he would be welcome among our ranks.  Savage and the Bitches differ in many ways on many issues, but they share a very fundamental principle: impatience with and a certain je-ne-sais-fuck-you-osity towards those who prefer wallowing in a victim mentality, crying "why me" to the skies, blaming everyone else, to facing their problems and accepting responsibility for their own mistakes.  I in no way agree with everything he says, and sometimes in his political writings he’s a bit of a one-issue dude (gay rights) -- but hey, sometimes I’m pretty much a one-issue gal (feminism).  At least both our buttons are pink.  He can make me think and laugh and wince in an article, and as a writer I admire the hell out of that.  So.

Mr. Savage:  Thank you.

You are in no small part responsible for the success (so far) of my relationship, which has made me very happy.

Replaying in my head your advice to others, some like me and some not, has acted as a sarcastic, cynical, pot-brownie-baking, pride-marching, authorly, parental angel on my shoulder.  This has been profoundly weird, as you may imagine -- I was raised as a thoughtful agnostic (that’s Unitarian Universalist, for those playing along at home) in a religion-is-your-own-business family, and am most suspicious of the idea of an angel on my shoulder, especially you.  No offense.  

So I sometimes pictured writing to you.  See, I’m the kinky half of the relationship.  And sometimes it was really good to hear your voice in my head, in that not-in-need-of-electroshock-therapy kind of way.  More like an "imagining an email exchange" kind of way.


ANGSTY MOI:  Woe is me, for we do not have Teh Sex often enough and I’m getting antsy!
DAN SAVAGE, in a reasonable tone of font:  He turns you down?
MOI:  Er, not as such.  I just feel wicked slutty when I have to initiate.  Oh woe!  Why could he not be a leather-clad Dominant with a Zeus-esque sex drive who throws me down and ravishes me at every free moment, no matter how inappropriate?!
DS:  Did he used to be?
Me:  What?  No.  He’s always been an adorable skinny antisocial nerd-boy.  I love him for it.  Don’t be silly.
DS:  So it’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting.  So, why are you not with a large be-leathered horny Dom?  Never met one?
Me:  Cause...  All the ones I’ve met would make crappy boyfriends?  Duh.  Ugh, can you imagine me with Mr Married, or Dumb Sean, or oh lord, Captain Bitey, or... Yeeuch.  Anyway, where was I?  Right.  ...Oh teary-eyed lip-wibbling angst!  Can I truly give myself to one who is not a one-hundred-percent match in perversion?  Whatever shall Moi dooooo?
DS:  *smacks a Bitch*  There is no such thing!  Everyone’s relationships are imperfect and require work!  You have a textbook-definition GGG boyfriend* there, and it’s kinksters like you -- ones who want to indulge their kink at the expense of vanilla sex, which by the way is usually better with him than even the really pervy stuff was with anyone else [the Dan Savage of the shoulder-angel emails knows a LOT about me] and who don’t appreciate what every single desperately seeking fetishist in the world has like a 2% chance of getting, namely a sweet and open-minded mate -- who can fucking RUIN it for the rest of us.  Shut up!  Talk to him, not me!  Work it out!  You have the hogtied and collared Holy Grail.  Stop wasting it.  Dumbass.

And you know what?  I’d take a step back and a deep breath and realize, indeed, how lucky I was and am.  And without your words -- your concept of Good, Giving, and Game; your warning signs for when to DTMFA**; your well-written and white-hot-angry rants against hypocrisy among other topics; and your articulation of often difficult, sensitive or mortifying, alien, frightening and beautiful concepts -- I might have sunk into drama and self-pity, clinging to my unreasonable expectations of myself and others, and utterly bollixed up a really good thing with a wonderful man who loves me for the crazy geeky perv that I am.

I know I can’t ever repay you, but if I can talk him into it, I’ll see if I can’t send you naked pictures of the boyfriend.  He’s got a delectable booty.

Love and kisses to you, your boyf, and the Kid.



*GGG = Good, Giving, and Game -- a generous lover who will try things without judging and indulge their kinky partner within reason.
**DTMFA = Dump the motherfucker already.  When it is way past time to cut your losses and call it quits before one of you gets really hurt.