QYou were recommended to me by an acquaintance familiar with your column and podcast. Lacking other resources at this particular moment, I’ve decided to write to you. I’m a 20-year-old male, and as such have certain desires that almost all 20-year-old males have (desires of a sexual nature).

Get over yourself, faggot.

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If it’s possible for you to act on your unnamed-but-easily-identified desires in an ethical manner—if you desire to do whatever it is you desire to do with consenting adults who desire to take their turn doing it to you—this so-called expert on sexuality thinks you should crawl down off that cross and find yourself a boyfriend already. (“Pray away” the gay? I’m guessing you’re Christian, probably Catholic.) And if you experience a moment’s anxiety the first time you stick your ass in the air—pull the Jesus stick out first!—just remind yourself that things have been crawling on top of each other and madly humping away for 850 million years. Sex came first, then humanity (200,000ish years ago), then religion came along tens of thousands of years after that. Which may explain why religion, when pitted against sex (really old) and human nature (pretty old), always loses. Always.

I’m an only child, male, born to a single mom. I’m about to turn 21, and I’ve been with a great guy for more than a year. I may be in love. We both have steady jobs, and we want to move in together. He came out to his parents after we started dating, and now I think it’s my turn. Problem is, I don’t know how to break it to my mother. In fact, I’m afraid to tell her. She’s a tiny Mexican woman who isn’t afraid of smacking me. She always talks bad about the gay lifestyle because she considers herself Christian, although not the churchgoing kind. When and how do I break the news that she’s not getting grandkids from me? —Her Only Male Offspring

But not until you tell her.

*Note to Bill Donohue: Yes, I’ve confused the virgin birth with the Immaculate Conception. So sue me, motherfucker.