QThere was a letter in your column recently that must have been painful for you to receive. I refer to the letter signed God Hates You. I’m sure you’re no stranger to hate mail, being an openly gay sex-advice columnist, but I hope you get fan mail too. Just in case not, I wanted you to know that your column means a lot to me. I love your bluntness, openness, and honesty. It’s comforting to see a pragmatic, funny, and for the most part compassionate voice in print nowadays, especially when it comes to something that so many are as willfully ignorant about as sex.
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As for fan letters, YDGW, I get my fair share. I don’t typically run them because I’ve found better ways to pleasure myself. I am, however, going to make an exception this week and run a few letters from satisfied Savage Love customers. Not because I like having sunshine blown up my ass—I prefer to have other things blown up my ass, thanks—but because we know GHY is out there reading, and I’m thinking letters from people who’ve found my advice useful will annoy him way more than letters from people who wanted to let me know that God loves me.
So this one’s for you, GHY . . .
I tend to be insecure, and I tend to tell the wrong joke at the wrong time. The one area in my life where I’m not insecure, however, is in the bedroom, and it’s almost entirely thanks to your column. I’ll kick myself repeatedly for saying the wrong thing to a girl, but if I don’t perform to the best of my abilities one night, I can let it go. I’ve learned what my boundaries are and how to push them. I knew that not being 100 percent straight doesn’t make you bi or gay, so there was no identity crisis when I questioned my sexuality. Most importantly, I know how to ask and I know how to give.
I want to thank you. I was in denial, and your column was my wake-up call. I’m happier now than I ever thought possible. —Content Lady in Toronto
