I have huge erections in the morning! I call them "maintenance" erections because they're strictly chemical—not by choice. I am quite proud of my length, heft, and rigidity, but in the workplace I am very embarrassed by my flesh sword going every which way but loose. I have gone to great lengths (pun intended) to hide or satisfy myself, including tooting my own horn in the executive men's room. Nothing I do makes it go away, not even pinching myself and thinking of something unsexy like old person smell.
I am otherwise a normally sexed big-dicked guy and this is my only quirk—and it's from Mother Nature herself! Do women know how aroused men get in the morning? Can they distinguish between a maintenance erection and the real thing? Plus, I'm almost convinced the only quick way for my dick to be calmed is for a woman to touch it—kinda like a short circuit. Would any of your female readers be averse to touching their male co-workers' members in the morning? Dategirl, would you touch me? It would take all of your hands to short- circuit me.
Chief Erect Officer
So many questions! I can't answer for all women, but yes, I distantly recall that most glorious condition, the morning wood. As far as I'm concerned, a boner is a boner—I don't care how it got there. However, your misguided theory that a woman just needs to touch it to make it go buh-bye is altogether incorrect. You're like the guy who asked if he could just put it in me—solemnly promising not to move it once it was in there. What you're looking for is a full-on hand job, my friend; and yes, normally I'd be delighted to slap your big old meatstick around. Unfortunately both my hands were amputated after a tragic turkey-carving accident this past Thanksgiving, so alas, I must decline. I'd heartily recommend you ask around the office instead. Concentrate on your subordinates—if they won't do you, you can always fire them.
Women say they want better communication about needs and pleasure, about having no games, no bullshit—OK, got it. More than my dick is capable of growth, you know? Believe me, I want to jump through your sweet hoops.
So why the fuck is it so hard for you [women] to communicate? You're playing me and guys like me! I answered a personal ad where the woman asked for me "to worship at her altar." I am a sex god pagan and avoid all organized religions, so naturally what I thought she meant was to go down on her repeatedly and devotedly. What she meant instead was for me to believe in the god she does and copy whatever empty rituals she copies.
Communication is a two-way street. Tell us exactly what you want. I'm a big boy, I've heard and done it all. Don't waste my time with your hang-ups and limitations.
A Fremont Troll
Erm, OK, Sex God Pagan Troll. Point taken. But do you think perchance the whole Troll identity might be putting women off? Like maybe that broad had originally intended to hook up with a guy who'd snack her puss 24/7, but once she came face to face with the Trollmeister, she felt the urge to backtrack onto less sticky ground? Perhaps what this particular woman communicated was a lie designed to save you from humiliation.
Single men in this city seem to lack intellectual capacity or emotional availability or both. My single women friends are smart (doctors, lawyers, scientists), beautiful and leading full lives—if they could just find a nice, intelligent, attractive man who isn't overwhelmed by beauty and brains. Is this an impossible quest?
Can't Find Me Love
Dear Can't Find Me,
It's obvious that you and your stuck-up friends are too damned picky. Look at the two fine specimens whose letters precede yours; these are quality fellas, just itchin' for a fine filly like yourself. But no, not you—you don't want a priapic executive or a Sex God Pagan Troll. Fine, go ahead—spend the rest of your life alone. See if I care. That's just more mens for me!
Impossible problem? Write Dategirl at firstname.lastname@example.org or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.