April 2003

Much Goo About Nothing
Dear Jane,

I’m a 24-year-old male. I think I’m a nice-looking guy; I’ve done modeling work for department store ads but I’m too short (5’7”) for serious modeling.

I just moved in with my sister and one of her girlfriends. When I get home after work, I usually like to shower and undress. I like to walk around in my underwear. I asked first so it wouldn’t embarrass anyone. They didn’t mind. I usually sleep nude.

Well, one day I didn’t have to work so when I woke up, I pulled off the blankets and started to jack off and to my surprise, my sister’s friend, thinking I was at work, walked into my bedroom just as I had just started cumming all over my naked self. She was embarrassed and walked out. It took me an hour to face her and apologize. She said she would not tell my sister but I’m sure she will.

Now I’m afraid to be undressed around them. I feel naked even going around in bare feet. Should I feel this bad?

Mortified

Dear Mortified,

Get a grip, sweetie, and think for a minute here: She walked in on your space. She should have apologized to you, not the other way around. What did you have to apologize to her about? About jerking off? Heavens, the ability to make love frivolously (particularly with someone you love, as you did) is what distinguishes human beings from beasts.

It would actually be unusual if you didn’t start a lazy day off from work with a squirt-and-spurt. The average man thinks about sex every six minutes; it takes less than ten seconds for you boys to achieve an erection. Do the math . . . and appreciate the fact that masturbation is the most widely practiced sexual practice in the world.

This incident might have value in opening up your own fantasies, sweetie. You state that at one time you and your roommates were open about your walking around in skivvies and yet now you “feel naked even going around in bare feet.” You were caught not only with your pants down but at your most vulnerable—when you couldn’t squeeze the toothpaste back into the tube. Your fear of helplessness puts the women in your household in a power position . . . . Does this dynamic—of your own making—pique any fantasies for you? Have you, perchance, fantasized about how being walked in upon by a pretty woman while climaxing might have gone in another, perhaps more interesting, direction? At the very least, you might play with these fantasies to drive your next self-lovefest.

Oh, my . . .the ups and downs of our little friend . . . poor guy. In the 18th and 19th centuries, most doctors believed that solo sex led to sterility, diarrhea, tumors, asthma, blindness, insanity, and eventually death. As “cures,” doctors put leeches on penises to suck out congestion, or blistered them with acid, or introduced infections, or put wire cages around them.

Between 1856 and 1932 the U.S. Government Patent Office awarded 33 patents to inventors of painful and humiliating devices to stop self-abuse. Contributing to the movement against do-it-yourself sex, both Kellogg’s corn flakes and the graham cracker were designed to inhibit masturbation, based on the “scientific” notion that bland food improved health and lowered sex drive. Hmmm . . . Obviously, neither Mr. Kellogg nor Mr. Graham ever visited a 24-year-old man waking up in the morning.

Take a load off your mind, sweet boy, and forget about the whole incident. Go on about your life and be gracious about your roommate’s transgression. Who knows . . . perhaps her own embarrassment was in direct proportion to the thrill she got.

Looking for Love in Florida
Dear Jane,

I think I need a “Jane” wake-up slap across my face. Even though many men are attracted to me, I’m a woman with man problems. My sister works for Leg Show, so I know your column well. I admire you. I wish I were “dominant” like you—and it’s strange that I am not more take-charge in personal relationships because I am very successful in business and operate capably in a man’s world. If I were dominant in my love life, I think I’d have a better chance of managing it. Alas! I prefer the man take the lead in the bedroom. The following is not an atypical situation I find myself in; it’s just the most recent of my disastrous man-tales.

I live in Miami; my new boyfriend Stuart resides in Minneapolis, although he has a home here in Miami. He’s a hugely successful businessman—certainly my equal in this regard; we both drive top-of-the-line turbo convertible Porsches (his is a Boxster; mine is the superior 911).

We started our relationship passionately and even talked marriage. But that was then . . . These days, something is not clicking for Stuart. We’ll have a great time together but then, all of a sudden, he’ll get mad at me for being on the phone or for dropping some change on the floor. When he’s angry he’s got a razor-edged tongue. Growing up with drunks as parents who inexplicably exploded at the drop of a hat, I can live without the turmoil of Stuart’s moods.

So . . . You might conclude that I stay in this relationship for the sex. But even that’s not great. He thinks that his dimensions (generous) are enough to satisfy . . . frankly, they are not. The most recent blow was when Stuart was here this past weekend for a sailing regatta and failed to call me until he was driving to the airport to fly back to Minneapolis!

We should be in love—we have everything in the world in common—I miss that time we were in that magical place. Thoughts of him still pull at my heart strings (and I hate myself for this). This is a repeated pattern in my life . . . I love a man (too much?), he loves me, but then he backs off.

How do you maintain power in a relationship, Jane? I imagine you have really together relationships with the men in your life. How do I break my Stuart habit? Sign me . . .

South Beach Man-aholic

Dear South Beach,

You are not a “man-aholic,” sweet woman. It sounds to me as though you’d love nothing more than a stable, permanent relationship with a man you consider your equal. There’s nothing wrong with this. The cozy notion of a storybook romance and a white picket fence makes even “dominant” women blush.

First, recognize that, like everyone, you have a need to balance. As a hard-driving businesswoman, it makes sense that you’d like to lay back in the bedroom and be tended to. Stop fighting your natural inclination to be sexually submissive; embrace it.

Being submissive is not being weak. In fact, it’s the submissive in a relationship who wields the true control—but only if she knows it and owns it—and uses it in a relationship that’s about loving someone and accepting their love. Not to mention about not taking any crap. Being submissive in life is about being a doormat. Being submissive in the bedroom is about connection.

You are obviously competitive; there’s nothing wrong with this. That Stuart, though, is an abuser. To yell at you for any reason at all is unacceptable. Throw Stuart on the pile of detritus of men who’ve come before him and resolve to find a man who hears you when you speak, accepts your core weaknesses and strengths, and is a very best friend and lover. Consider Stuart simply a stone on which you are stepping (I do like this analogy) to get to a sweetheart of a man who will treasure you, warts and all. Understand that it is not Stuart who pulls at your heart strings, but rather your desire to find an appropriate mate to settle down with.

Also, please don’t assume that I am wise about men because I was born that way. Your letter could have been mine at one time. I met the man of my dreams nearly eight years ago through my first interview with Leg Show. When my girlfriends meet him they gush about how lucky I am; I tell them I’m not lucky—I earned him. “Been-there-done-that” is the best school there is—especially when it comes to men.

Superman? No, It’s Padman!
Dear Jane,

I just love Leg Show magazine and all the nice pics of panties. In the April 2002 issue, there’s a spread of Kelle Marie with her butt in the air and her white panties showing. What caught my attention was her crotch area—it looks as though there’s a pad inside there, but it’s just the cotton crotch. Too bad . . . because my fetish is feminine pads and women on their periods wearing them.

The other day I went to a drugstore, to the feminine hygiene section. A woman there was selecting products. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind helping me. I asked her if the ones I had in my hand were good for overnight production. She was very willing to help and told me that she wears two pads when her flow is heavy—boing!—instant erection. I loved it!

I bought the pads. Driving home I was thinking of the conversation I’d had with the woman in the store and had a hard-on the whole way. It did not take me long to open the package and put one of the large overnights in my shorts. The feel of the soft cotton against my balls and penis is part of the reason why pads excite me.

The other reason is a woman on her period is an aphrodisiac to me. Wherever there’s a bathroom both men and women share, I go in and look in the trash to see if there are any used pads. If there is, I’ll take it home and sniff it . . . Sounds strange, eh? But I love the aroma. When I was a boy and my mom was having her period, the bathroom had a tremendous scent, which is maybe why I love the smell—brings back memories.

Just now I took my pad out of my shorts and put some food coloring in the center to simulate the blood from a period. The sight makes me want to pleasure myself. Would you write me, Jane, and tell me if I’m a complete wacko?? I really love my fetish but would try to give it up if that’s the only healthy way to deal with it.

Padman

Dear Padman,

For health reasons, be sure you don’t ingest any menstrual blood that you don’t know very, very well. Outside of that, the only healthy way to deal with any fetish is to enjoy it, as you are. You may have higher-than-normal ability to detect pheromones (sexual signal transmitters). You obviously enjoy yourself and that padded member of yours. If your pad-love doesn’t get in the way of normal doings and relationships in your life, then, please, proceed unfettered.

So many aspects of your pad fetish stir your lust: The sight of the pad in panties, wearing one yourself, smelling used ones, viewing the red stain, the stirring of fond memories. In one little absorbent pillow, your every sense is nourished! I personally wonder if you have a submissive streak; since the invention of these products, they’ve been advertised to women as being for “protection” and “safety,” implying that women are most, say, delicate, during our “time of the month.” Or maybe it’s the taboo aspect of it that lies at the bottom of your desire.

The power of menstrual blood has been dictating human behavior for centuries. Women have been shunned for their monthly deed (some cultures believed that the blood lost by a woman possesses evil and dangerous magic properties), embraced (in the 1700s it was a popular belief in Europe that menstrual blood from a virgin could cure any disease), joked about (“Never trust an animal that bleeds for seven days but doesn’t die.”), and disparaged (pads are “man hole covers”).

Oh—by the way—I bet you think that women would be aghast at your love of something women for decades called “the curse.” No! I have a friend in LA who squeezes out her tampons, mixes the red with a bit of water, freezes them inside little lip-shaped plastic molds, and uses them as ice cubes for the beverages of special blood-loving guests. Now that’s a drink that gets the juices flowing!

Jane is the owner of X-traordinary Talk! and can be found on the Internet at www.xtratalk.com. Ask for Jane’s advice on any aspect of fetish sexuality by e-mailing her at jane@xtratalk.com. “Advice to Boys Who Need It Bad” is a registered trademark of X-traordinary Talk! Please note that Jane’s advice is from the viewpoint of a caring, softly dominant woman; it is not intended to replace professional therapy. All questions are “real,” although may be edited for length.

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