"Dear Manola 180,
My boyfriend tried to stick his schlong up my bung hole and it hurt, so I said no. Then he got pissed and said I was a selfish, prudish bitch and that he'd find another woman to fuck up the ass. So I decided to try it, since I love him and have an open mind.
Turns out, my anal sphincter is not as open. He slathered my ass with so much lube, I felt like an SUV - slimy under vulva. Then, in true mechanical fashion, he checked my oil. All I could think was, 'Just come already! This isn't sex, this is the insertion of an oversized suppository!'
Next thing he knows, he has a tremendous buttgasm.
Next thing I know, I'm taking a tremendous dump on the crapper, which I will admit, was a great relief after having a bout of constipation.
Since then, it seems like our sex life has reduced my body to nothing more than an anus and I honestly haven't acquired the taste. My vagina is drying up and I'm sure the sperm he shoots up my colon must be utterly confused -- there isn't a fallopian tube anywhere in sight.
Plus, our bed smells like shit, no matter how many times I wash the sheets. What's worse, everytime I defecate, I think of him. I'm really disappointed. I thought no meant no. I didn't think love was being intimate with a 200-pound human enema. Please help.
Dear Ms. Crotchety,
No does mean no. NO to being in a relationship with that machievellian monster of macho. But let's analyze this, shall we?
Most men are, always have been and always will be obsessed with ass. It's a fact of life. But today, "ass" is more than ever the new "penis" of our generation. We can't call men "dicks" or "pricks" anymore, because of a new evolutionary phenomenon: metrosexuality. Not only have straight men become more in touch with their feminine side, they've also taken a liking to all things backside.
This new breed of ass-men isn't just obsessed with a fullsome Brazilian model wearing butt floss. They also prefer introspective anal-gazing. Without even bothering to scrape off yesterday's dingleberries, they want you to lick their sphincters like it's sprinkles on some tasty ice cream cone, which I suppose is fair reprisal for having to go down on fragrant bush. Without even bothering to cleanse their colons, they're willing to be taken by a strap-on, also known as the rump hump.
(Hopefully none of these men are surgeons in triage.)
Manola remains utterly confounded by the fact that gay men are women's best friends, and that straight men are in hot pursuit of anus, so why not save time and effort and combine the two?
Now, Ms. Crotchety, consider this: human sexuality is a complex system of plumbing, wiring and fantasy that knows no bounds. Human sexuality is a wonderful source of creativity. One person's repulsion is another's attraction. Some folks swear by anal sex, others prefer it banal. Preference: whatever. If you like it, go crazy! Respect: absolutely. If you don't like it, don't go crazy.
Kinky or vanilla, any interaction between two human beings should involve mutual respect, consideration and compromise. Your boyfriend is a manimal: the most selfish, foul breed of manipulative predator. Sex should NEVER be a negotiation point. If anal sex is a deal breaker, that's not love, that's shove.
Beware, Ms. Crotchety, because even after you leave this bottom feeder, you'll still find men who will miss your fruit of the loom by a few inches, claiming it's uncharted territory, as if they could pull the condom over your eyes!
Have you dumped Mr. Ex-Lax yet? I hope so.
Your next step: find a plastic surgeon to perform anal rejuvination surgery and a man who will love and respect you, meeting you half-way between banal and anal.