Wow. I'm not the only girl with an opinion about the "Marry Him" article. I have gotten over fifty emails, amounting to about ten thousand words, on the subject of marriage and "settling". I'm going to have to boil this down a bit, but look for a follow-up post either over the weekend or on Monday.

I wonder if Ms. Gottlieb would debate me? Probably not, huh? Too bad. There are actually several people who write about sex, relationships, and sex work with whom I'd like to have - shall we say - a spirited discussion. I doubt that I ever will. But it's occasionally amusing to think about what I'd say.

So, here’s the new column. This post won’t make much sense until you read both the article that inspired the column and then the column itself, so go do that and then come back.

Done? Yeah. Is that unbelievable or what? I read it ten days ago and I was so incensed by it that I spent several days ranting about it to anyone who would listen. It's been killing me not to say anything about it sooner.

I’m going to exercise a lot of self-discipline here and not talk about my impressions of the author as a person. I can’t say I think I’d like her, based on what she said in this piece. But I am aware that there’s no way you can really know what a person is like based on just an article. People who just read a few pieces I’ve written don’t really know me, they only know the carefully-crafted slice I present to them. Plus I’m guessing she wouldn’t instantly take to me, either. I doubt it’ll be an issue in either of our lives.

And I try not to be nasty about other writer’s talent, or their lack thereof, because I know how it feels to have people knock my writing. But – this particular piece is not well-written. It’s like a first draft, way too long and repetitive. Frankly, it reads like a blog post – something where she just sat down at the keyboard, rambled about some feelings she was having, and hit Send. That’s okay for blogging, but for a magazine like The Atlantic? Um, no. Did she not have an editor for this piece?

I'm not saying you can't find anyone who'd agree with her. But for someone who admits she's making a sure-to-be-unpopular statement, her points are not well-argued. There’s just so much wrong with the reasoning and rationales of this nationally-published article that I’m just… blown away. I could pull quote after quote from the piece that display the author’s poor judgment and lack of personal insight, but I think it unfortunately speaks for itself.

The worst idea was publishing this piece to begin with. I cannot state too strongly my opinion that Ms. Gottlieb will be lucky if any man is ever willing to even go to dinner with her ever again, so thoroughly has she sown the ground with salt here. Trust me on this – the male of the species does not respond well to seeing themselves roasted in print. The hurt feelings of my dear and favored boys is the reason I have mainly stopped doing the Silly Phone Calls posts. Even though they knew that they were not the actual people I was teasing, there was an ever-increasing chorus of “Hey, I though you liked me!”

I do, I said. It’s not you I’m making fun of. You don’t say those witless things to me. It’s that dumb guy over there.

Didn’t help. And that’s guys having a BDSM relationship. Ms. Gottlieb wants some guy to marry her and help support her child after she refers to them collectively as "damaged goods"? Never. Gonna. Happen.

But whatever. If the author wishes to handicap herself in a race she’s already declared almost impossible to win, well, that’s not my dog. What really pisses me off is the lack of responsibility here. There's a difference between saying, "Here's my personal experience," and "Young women, listen to me and heed my words! Here's what you should do!" If you’re going to publish a call to action like this, you better be pretty damn sure what you’re advising people to do is right for everyone, all the time. Somewhere, a woman is going to read this, and based at least in part on the advice of Ms. Gottlieb, she’s going to marry a guy she’s not in love with. And that’s going to be a bad choice on her part. Now the fault will mostly be hers, because that’s how grown-up life works, but Ms. Gottlieb will actually have some fraction of blame for that in my eyes.

It’s like breath-control play. It is my strong opinion that cutting off someone’s oxygen is a bad idea. Do I know people who have done breath-control play and not died? (Yet.) Yes, I do. Does that stop me from telling people they should refrain from this kink? Nope, because if I said “Oh, breath-control play can be okay sometimes,” and someone read that, and did it, and died – I’d feel I had some moral responsibility for their death. If I can keep anyone from having a tragic accident, I’d be really happy.

So I will say it again: don’t marry someone you’re not in love with. It will cut off the air to some vital part of your soul, and it will wither and die.

***

Note: I’ve had some interesting conversations about this piece with friends, so if you have opinions on this piece (or my thoughts on it) that you’d like me to publish, send them to me in an email in the next 48 hours or so. I’ll compile them in a follow-up blog piece.

Hey, look! I forgot I had one more podcast in the chute that I hadn't posted yet. So here we go - Monk and I talk about spanking...
I am enjoying doing the podcasts, and Monk and I are angling to get some more studio time to record some more, so if you have questions that require lengthy philosophical answers, fire them off. I get a lot of help-me emails for someone who is not, strictly speaking, an advice columnist. My policy is that I don't write private replies that take me more than two minutes total. But if it's something other people would find interesting, or something Monk and I feel we could make good jokes about, we'll read your email and discuss it on the podcast. Fire up the keyboards!

I love your writing and I wanted to ask your opinion about a poly situation where my boyfriends know about each other but have never met. How okay is it to talk about the other guy? "The weirdest thing happened to my other boyfriend at his work..." "My other boyfriend cooks this awesome dish..." Is it like with regular friends, where it's no problem to share stories, or is it really gauche like talking too much about your ex?

I'm guessing that "my other boyfriend said this hilarious thing during sex" is right out. Sadly.

It’s a very good question. I’ve never had a situation where my lovers had not met. But there’s knowing something is happening, and then there’s the “no information is TMI” stance, and there’s a lot of range in between those two points.

Obviously the first thing to do is ask them. And don’t just ask, “What do you not want to hear about?” Frame the questions clearly. “Do you want to hear about what movie we saw? Do you want to hear about what’s happening at his work? Do you want to hear about where he think our relationship is going?” There’s apt to be a certain level there. “Yes, tell me about movies, restaurants and books he thinks are good, but I don’t want to hear what brand of underwear he thinks are best.”

But even once they’ve expressed an opinion, I think it’s always best to think about things before you say them. Context is important. You don’t want your lovers to feel compared, because there’s a possibility they’ll feel like they’re coming out on the short end. So if you’re eating a meal lover A has cooked and you’re going on and on about this great thing Lover B cooked…. That might not be the best thing.

Also consider frequency. A story about the other person sprinkled in with other conversation? Okay. Every single conversation comes back to this cute thing they did? Annoying.

Some of this is going to depend on how poly-sophisticated these guys are. A more experienced partner will probably be fine with it. Someone who’s newer to poly will have to grit their teeth a bit.

I think it’s important to not feel like you have to tiptoe around subjects, and pretend you’re not really having two partners, when in fact, you are! But some tact and some delicacy as you all three find your comfort zones is essential.

My Blue Heaven

My blue obsession continues, and of course certain very sweet men in my life are totally catering to my desires for sparkly blue things. Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am?

So consider this dress. Ignore the hair. The hair is truly scary. And what is that weird little feather-shrug thing she’s got on? It looks like something molted on her. I have worn some unfortunate outfits in my life, I admit. But celebrities are supposed to have handlers who don’t let them show up at photo opps looking like this. I suppose the shrug could have been a moment’s disastrous whim, but that hair did not just happen by accident, someone did that on purpose. This woman’s name is Natasha Bedingfield, and she is apparently a Christian pop singer. Ms. Bedingfield could certainly have used some divine intervention with her hair and accessories.

But let us put all that aside and look at that dress she’s wearing, because unless I am very much mistaken, that is an Herve Leger dress. Herve Leger being another fashion obsession of mine. (An obsession that has also been lavishly indulged. But you know with obsessions, you never get enough.)

So it's an Herve Leger, and it’s not exactly blue, but it’s blue-ish, and it’s completely fabulous. So I think Ms. Bedingfield, in acknowledgment of her fashion sins, should give it to me. You definitely would not catch me blaspheming it with bad hair and hideous feather things.

In most conventional ways, I’m not really the romantic type. For example, if I’m going to watch a movie, I’d usually rather watch people pretend to shoot at each other than watch them pretend to fall in love with each other.

I do not understand why an adult woman would want a stuffed animal. (It’s fine if you do. I’m just sort of baffled by them, that’s all.)

I do not save roses from meaningful floral offerings. Flowers are pretty and all, but when they’re dead, I throw them away.

Someone once gave me a sonnet he’d written about me, and I thought it was sweet, but I still didn’t sleep with him.

So call me a pragmatic sort of girl. It’s relationships that matter to me. How I feel when I’m around someone, and how they treat me. I have often said to guys, “If you show a woman that you think she’s beautiful and special, that is more intoxicating to her than any champagne ever poured into a glass.”

I have some very sweet people who are close to me, guys who treat me like a beautiful princess, and I am very blessed by that. You know who you are. Thank you for all the lovely things you do for me. And Happy Valentines Day to you.

What I’m Doing In The Last Five Minutes Before You Arrive – Or, An Illustration Of Why You Should Not Be Early.*

• Put on chosen dress. Realize that the bra I’m wearing is not the right one for this neckline. Take off dress and dig through overflowing lingerie bureau for correct black bra – examining at least four other incorrect ones before doing so, and dumping approximately half of the Nordstrom intimates department onto floor in process.

• Turn heat up to eighty and note to myself that if the gas company gave out frequent-flyer miles, I’d have enough accumulated for a ticket to the moon. In first-class.

• Make last check of playroom. Leather cuffs? Check. Spandex hood? Check. Spencer paddle? Check. Big black rubber electrical butt plug? Dig through drawers in vain. Remember that it’s in the storage room, in the cabinet given over to the “you buy it, I’ll store it for you” toys. Go to storage room, which is twenty degrees colder than the rest of the house because heating vents are shut to save money. Shiver and look through bags of single-player-only equipment until I find the one marked with proper nickname. Place toy where it should be. Go stand over the heating vent in the playroom until goose bumps subside.

• Cue iPod playlist to “Spanking Music”.

• Examine my legs and wonder if thigh-high stockings - mined from the depths of aforementioned overflowing lingerie bureau - are actually the same shade of black. Wonder if he’ll even notice.

• Put on lipstick. Notice that it makes me appear as though I’ve been dead for three days. Realize it’s actually eye shadow and curse cosmetics manufacturers for being so clever in their packaging. Wipe off and replace with bona fide lipstick.

• Become aware that I have to pee. Pause and consider whether I should just wait and pee on him. Wrestle with my sense of proper dramatic timing versus urinary expediency.

Ding-dong!

• Answer door…

*With a tip of the hat to certain ladies, who inspire me with their private wit.

A pal of mine was talking recently about an upcoming women-only sex party. She’s excited about it, as are a number of my friends. It sounds like a great event, and I wish it much success. Am I going to go? Probably not.

You see, my extensive sexual travels have not left me soured on sex in private. If anything, the confidence I derive from my experiences enhances my private sex life.

But I have had plenty of “public” sex – by which I mean, sex in front of lots of other people, at private gatherings held specifically for that purpose - and frankly, I’m now really bored by it.

It’s probably mostly from my work as a stripper. If people are going to watch me be sexual, then I’m going to stop focusing on the sex I’m having and start performing. Which I’m perfectly comfortable doing, you understand. Hey, get me a sound system, a disco ball and a fog machine, and I’ll put on a hell of a show. But if no one is going to stuff money into my g-string, then why would I stop just enjoying the sex in order to perform for them?

I’m aware that some folks find it arousing to be watched, and that’s fine for them. I certainly have no objection to other people fucking in sex-appropriate spaces - it can be quite pretty to watch. And there was a time when I found the idea titillating enough to experiment with myself. I went to some swing clubs, when I was just barely old enough to legally get in them, and then I went to a lot of women-only sex parties (we called them “raves” back then) in the early nineties. I never had any bad experiences… But you know, I never had any amazingly good ones, either.

No, I take that back. I had some fun times – when I went off in a corner and had sex with people I was already having sex with anyway!

So these days I prefer my sex in private. There is, however, one reason I might go to this event, and that’s my friend Miss K. You remember Miss K, don’t you? No, I don't mean Miss K likes sex in public, either. She probably feels more or less the same way I do about it.

She is, however, recently single. And I am totally making it a goal to get her out of her all-grad-school-all-the-time rut and out to some social events – especially events where she could, possibly, maybe, just happen to meet a cute, sober, sane, single, kinky butch boi that she might like. I’m not trying to fix her up, or anything. I’m just saying, you know, make room for the universe to send you good things.

We’ll see if I can convince her to come to this party. Thus, if you see me there, I’m not shopping. But have you met my friend Miss K?

There are certain questions I get asked a lot, and while I’ve addressed many of them before, I keep getting asked, so I will make some remarks about them once again. Here's one from the FAQ...

Can big girls make money in the sex industry?

Well, define big.

This is a delicate issue. There’s a lot of controversy raging about body size these days – it seems like more than ever before. So let me say now that I’m not passing judgment on anyone’s genetic fate or chosen behavior around that. Let us simply speak of the market as I know it. And recognize that I have never been above a size ten, so I can’t speak from first-hand experience, only observation.

Stripping is probably the most unforgiving area of sex work when it comes to bigger girls. In most of the clubs where I danced, a lot of the girls were a size six or smaller, and anyone over a ten was really at a disadvantage. In smaller towns with fewer strippers, or at lower-end clubs, you can bump that up a little. But still, stripping is not the best gig for a curvy girl, because it’s a very visual job, and the current beauty ideal is thin. If you lived in Renaissance Italy, you’d be the pin-up girl, and those skinny chicks would be out of luck, but that’s not the way it is just now.

I think porn – by which I mean any visual depiction of you, be it web-cam stuff, photos, videos, whatever – is sort of middle ground. There are specific big-girl markets, but not as many as for skinnier girls. And porn thrives on extremes, so if you’re a slightly-curvy but not really-large woman, you might find that you’re too slim for the plus-size porn sites and too chunky for the other ones. I encountered this situation a lot when I was photographing girls for porn mags. I think you’d be wise to consider porn a potentially profitable hobby, but don’t quit your day job unless you really get a sweet ongoing gig.

However, bigger girls can do very well as escorts, sensual touch practitioners, and pro dommes. In that world, I would say that anyone smaller than a size eight is considered petite. Average/normal is anything from eight to about fourteen. Fourteen to eighteen or so is considered a bigger girl, but not in a bad way.

Above size eighteen, you’re really getting into a niche market of men who have a specific big-girl fetish, and I think your options will be limited. That’s not to say you have none, but it’s not a branch of the industry I have much information about.

Understand that this is just one person's opinion. Being skinny is not a sure-fire guarantee of success in the industry, and being bigger does not mean you’ll fail. At any size, a lot has to do with all the other aspects of your looks, and equally important, your personality, your attitude, and your business skills.

A note to Belle De Jour: Congrats on the fiction-writing deal. It's the type of thing I'd like to do myself someday. Also, I seem to have lost your address. Drop me a note? I have another matter I'd like your take on. MistressMatisse AT aol.com.

Oh my lord, has this been an insanely busy week. Wow. Good, but busy.

While I recover... Read the newest column about polyamorous people and Valentines Day.

So, I was the the Bondage Is The Point party Sunday night at the Wet Spot, and while in conversation with a groups of pals, I remarked, just in passing, that I owned a fuckzall.

"A what?"

"A fuckzall. A reciprocating, variable speed power saw - often referred to as a sawzall - but instead of a blade, there's a dildo on it. You see them a lot on the bondage-porn sites, they're fun."

Much was the amusement and incredulity. (What, doesn't everyone have one?) So I promised to upload a photo.

Lo and behold...


Bigger image, if you're a size queen.

It's fun, but boy, it's a teeth-rattler. For both people! And did I feel a bit like Bruce Campbell when I fired that bad boy up for the first time. "This is my boom-stick!" Yeah, that's about right.

There's only thing you have to know about the fuckzall: back spatter. Even at the slower speed, the action of this thing is such that the operator is going to get sprayed with - well, with whatever is wet. Lube, bodily fluids, whatever. So you need to be okay with that. Or you need to build a nicely kinky scene around a top in a haz-mat suit.

A note about scheduling.... This is the busiest February I can remember! Usually it's a dead month. But as soon as I remarked last week that I had time available, the phone started ringing and ringing... As of right now, I am booked through the 13th. I have had to regretfully say no to a number of boys I really like, but there are just so many hours in the day. Keep trying, please, my calender looks more open after the 13th.

But I love that you all love me so much...whee!

Can I just say how immensely grateful I am that I don’t have to process my relationships very much? You know, the “honey, where is our relationship going?” kind of talks. I know chicks are supposed to be the ones who initiate those, but truthfully, I am usually happy to have, oh, about five minutes of that kind of conversation, and after that, I’m pretty much done with it.

I’m not saying processing one’s relationship is bad. There are stages of relationships where there are legitimate questions to be resolved. I’m just glad when I'm done with that phase.

Now and then in my life as Matisse, I have occasion to touch base with someone about our relationship. Ideally, it looks something like this…

“You’re really awesome, you know that? I love being with you, and I hope we keep doing this.”

“I think you’re great, too, sweetheart. And yeah, this is a very good thing, we should keep doing this.”

That is the perfect little check-in. I like that. And if we really need a course-correction, that’s fine, just let me know - succinctly. I'll do the same.

What I really don’t want to do is get into a big heavy conversation about where the relationship is going, and yeah, once in a great while I meet someone who tries to go there. Interestingly, they’ll usually do it really fast, like the first or second time I meet them. I think maybe they’re trying to impress me as being a really sensitive guy or something? But I’m so not into it. One of the things I like about my career now is that I get to have these fun interactions with interesting people…and then they go back to their lives. It’s one of the reasons you’ll rarely see me pick up a stranger at a play-party. I like variety, but I get all my need for that met in my very own dungeon – and as a bonus, I don’t have to talk about my feeeeeeelings… Because my feelings about erotic-BDSM relationships usually run the gamut of:

A) Mmmm, I like doing this, this is fucking hot.

B) Oooh, that feels good, do that some more. (This often involves my feet, which are a primary erogenous zone on my body.)

Not really much to process there. It’s all hind-brain stuff, very basic. So when someone tries to engage me in a meaningful dialogue about how I feel about it, I tend to furrow my brow at him quizzically and say, “…Fine.”

(Note that this is different than talking about what types of activities/scenes we have done or might do. That’s a delightful type of conversation.)

So if you are moved to ask me where our relationship is going, know that my favorite answer is, “How about to the dungeon?”

Matisse's Blue Period

Shopping rant: why is it so hard to find blue lingerie? It's either black, white, beige, red or pink. Those are fine, but I've got lots of that. I want blue, people. And not pale blue or baby blue, yuck. And not turquoise, I loathe that color. Navy is a bit boring. No, it should be deep, rich sapphire blue.

Speaking of blue, I love this. Roberto Cavalli Blue Silk Minidress. And this is less drop-dead sexy, but a bit more versatile: Elie Tahari Twist Dress. Blue seems to be a theme in my retail lusts lately. Maybe I miss blue sky. Or maybe I've decided I need color in my life, and that blue is the color of choice. I tend to be obsessive about whatever catches my attention. Thus, until further notice, everything will all about the blue!

Hard to believe it’s been a year since I went down to San Francisco and posed for the renowned photographer Craig Morey. But it has been, and I’m thinking it’s about time I did another serious shoot. The trouble is I can’t decide what to do.

I could certainly go back to Craig again, I liked him and his work is great, and now that we know each other, we might do even better work together.

Tommy Edwards is right here in Seattle. He does lovely, lovely work, he’s a consummate professional, and he’s easily the best photographer I have ever worked with in terms of communicating what he wants you to do. That’s an important consideration for a model.

But…everybody in town has Tommy’s photos. (By “everybody”, I mean all the up-scale sex-workers.) It’s a little too much of a good thing, you know.

I know there are lots of local people, who aren’t necessarily as famous as Craig or even as Tommy, who can produce good images. I’ve seen some cool art by those folks. This isn’t about snubbing them. But doing this type of photo shoot is a big investment of time, money, and effort. Frankly, I want a photographer who is the professional equivalent of me: trained, equipped, experienced, a full-time professional who will guarantee to deliver the goods. They need to have the studio, have the set, have the system, and have a CD to me in a week or less, boom.

You see, I know exactly what I need, and I also know it’s probably not the most interesting thing to shoot. Photographers like to play and be creative, and I do not need creative. No artsy black-and-white. No high-contrast, back-lit, out-of-focus images. No funky crops, no extreme angles, no close-ups featuring six square inches of my left thigh, no masks or figure-obscuring outfits.

And I don’t need photos of me wearing a corset and a sneer, brandishing a crop. Can you say cliché? I have a hard drive full of those, and they are stale and boring, and they don’t reflect anything about what I’m really like.

What I need is color, with soft even lighting, a lot of full-length shots, with a setting that doesn’t pull focus or confuse the viewer. I want warm, sexy, glamorous images – portraits, really, with a sense of personality and a touch of humor.

So I’m clicking around, wondering who to go see. It’s tough to find someone who’s the perfect fit. I thought about Ken Marcus, but he seems to have retired from commercial glamour and is only shooting for his bondage website.

There’s this man: Ken Banks. He seems to have a good resume and do good work. I like that he seems to use a lot of natural light, but I’m afraid he might not be edgy enough.

There’s this outfit down in LA. But wow, they are very…LA. Still, it might be worth talking to them.

So I’m shopping. Have a suggestion? Drop me a note.

Okay, this is how not-techie I am. I took pictures on the camera on my phone today, and I have no idea how to get them to my computer. Any suggestions? It’s a Verizon LG5300. (I suppose I could read the stupid manual, couldn’t I? Arg.)

I need to buy an inexpensive little digital camera and just leave it at the dungeon all the time. This is twice now that I’ve really wanted a camera - and mine was at home. (Yes, you were the other time, Musical Man.) Feats of cock and ball torment always make me want to take a photo, and I do hate have having my artistic urges thwarted. And I’m in a shopping mood anyway, recession be damned. I’ll singlehandedly prop up the economy. Isn't that nice of me?

So speaking of politics, it looks like McCain for the Republicans, doesn’t it? I’m almost sorry. He seems like the most reasonable of them all. (Except for being pro-life, bah.) Mitt Rommey? That guy is an empty suit with nice hair. He’s an android. I think they wind him up every morning with a giant key in his back. Huckabee is a Baptist minister, and that’s pretty much all one needs to say about that. I didn't hate Rudy Giuliani, based on what very little I knew about him. You have to like a man who’ll do drag. And at least he has a history of being pro-choice. But I’m told he’s an utter fascist – and that was the opinion of someone who'd lived in South Africa and knows something about fascists.

So I’m almost sorry because I will, of course, be voting Democrat, and I sort of hate to see an even somewhat-reasonable guy on the Republican ticket. The way this administration has slashed and burned the country, it’s hard to imagine the Republicans winning the presidency, but it’s not like the Democrats couldn’t screw this up. No one tops Democrats for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

And I’m pretty on the fence with Clinton versus Obama. They both have their strengths and weaknesses. There’s nothing exactly wrong with Hillary Clinton in my eyes, I just…don’t think I’d like her, if I met her. (I liked her husband, though. Mrrow!) Still, I don’t have to like someone for them to be a good president, so if she gets the nomination, I’m fine with that.

I like Obama, I think he has great vision and passion, but I worry about his inexperience. Hillary knows her way around the track. I think he’d make a great vice-president for her – she’d keep him realistic, he’d keep her idealistic – and he’d be better positioned for the presidency down the road. But that’ll never happen. I kind of like John Edwards, actually, so I hope whoever gets the nomination taps him for VP.

Of course, if the Democrats nominated a brain-eating zombie, I’d put on a full-face motorcycle helmet and cast my vote for a rotting corpse, come November. Anyone but that monkey boy and the Death Merchant we have in there now. I am a pretty moderate Democrat, but as long as the Republicans are bed with the religious right, they will never get my vote for anything. I dislike nanny-state liberalism, but if that’s what it takes to get a secular government, I’ll take it.

No Sex Please, We're British

From a story in the Daily Mail:
Carrie Jones hasn't had sex with her husband Hal, a City banker, for the past four years. Nor does she want to. Sex is something she can no longer summon the effort to endure - with the man she married, at least.

Sex workers love women like this. We should. Their husbands comprise a large chunk of our clientèle. Her man Hal will probably be joining the club soon, if he hasn’t already. If she thinks her husband is going to go, oh, ten years without sex? Well, he might be an unusual guy, but I strongly doubt it. If she’s lucky, he’ll just see escorts and stay married to her until their kids are grown up, which is what she says she wants.

But is it really? Actions speak louder than words sometimes, and this woman has published a book saying she’s planning to never have sex with her husband again. And put her photo with it. That’s not exactly a subtle hint. Jesus, lady, way to embarrass and emasculate your helpmate there. As far as I’m concerned, she might as well write “Divorce Me” on her forehead. Kids or no kids, if a partner of mine did that, I’d be out the door. She thinks it's better for children to be raised in a stable loving environment? Yes, I’d agree with that. However, if you’re publishing a fucking book about how much you don’t love your children’s father, and how you planned to cheat on him, I really don’t think anyone is going to mistake you for Ward and June Cleaver. And your kids are nine and eleven – if you think you’re going to fool them into thinking Mommy and Daddy really love each other, you’re dreaming. They’re old enough to be onto you, even if they can’t articulate it. All you’re doing now is setting them up for a lifetime of therapy and messed-up relationships as they unconsciously replay this situation with their own partners.

I think this is an extreme case, but I think the basic premise is pretty common. The majority of the guys I have met through sex work told me the same story. “My wife is a wonderful woman and I love her, but we haven’t had sex in a long time. She doesn’t want it, but I have needs." Since I'm polyamorous, I can totally relate to the idea of having different people in your life that fulfill you in different ways. But I think expecting your partner to go without sex is selfish and dumb. And publishing an unflattering book about your intimate life with him, without even telling him about it first, is astoundingly cruel.

As I said, having her husband go to a sex worker is the best outcome Mrs. Jones could hope for. You see, sex workers don’t break up marriages. Most clients of sex workers could absolutely find non-professional girlfriends on the side, if they wanted them. They avoid that because they know that women in relationships like that make emotional demands. (And justifiably so.) But sex workers don’t do that. So if Mrs. Jones wants to stay married, she should be diverting some cash from the monthly budget into an "entertainment fund" for him. Because if kind, sweet Hal falls in love with a woman who wants him to leave his wife, Mrs. Jones could be freed up to pursue her old boyfriends a lot sooner than she planned.

In the spirit of last week's column, another one from the "Inexplicable Emails" file.

i lo you for the ideal look with sexy and class
I propose you to give me a chance to be the duo to make v i p week end and one new pills to sell in all over the world
Do I have chance to make contract relation avec femme ayant look for give the boy like me shows for have cerebral orgasme with no tuch. tell me what to do for try to serve and love you with no lies but full trust

Yes, that's the way it was formatted in the email, too, all over to the right. I have no idea why. The email came from a net.il address, so maybe this is the hip thing in Italy, I don't know.

So, as brief as it is, there's a lot of messages in this email. The first line is straightforward enough. Grazie infinite, caro.

In the second sentence, though, he's lost me. Does he want to be my slave, or my client? Or does he want to enroll me in an affiliate program for counterfeit Viagra, or does he want to be a male pro dom and come co-top with me? (The "duo" reference. )

Third sentence: What? The word contract - okay, I know what that means. Shows? Yeah, okay, but what's with this French in the middle? And cerebral orgasms? Sounds like another definition of a stroke to me.

With the last line - all right, we're back on familiar territory here. But wow, this letter reads like it was written by two different people. I wonder if Italian boy has a split personality - one who wants to bottom, and one who's a budding sexual entrepreneur.

EDIT: An alert reader has pointed out that the email actually came from Israel, not Italy, and remarked "... which also explains the right-bound formatting quite nicely." Duh, of course! Thanks for clueing me in!

Fans of the silly communications will enjoy this week’s column…

Want to shop? Monk is eBaying off TM memorabilia and some of his now-too-big personal wardrobe. I saw him in this coat, and in this one, and they’re hot. Get them before they're gone.

A reader who misses the comments feature has begun a message board for ya’ll to talk about whatever gems of wisdom have lately fallen from my lips. (Fallen from my keyboard? Doesn’t have quite same ring, does it?)

If you want to communicate with me, email is the way to do that. But if you want to talk to each other, here you go. It’s very sweet of Van to have set this up and offer his time to moderate it, so I hope ya’ll enjoy it.