Atlantic City Weekly

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Do you think post-op transgender people have any obligation to tell their lovers they were once the other sex?

On The Fence

Yes.

I’m in my 40s and straight. My wife of nine years is no longer interested in sex. Period. She relents every few weeks, but it’s never enjoyable for either of us. As a result, I haven’t had a blowjob in about eight years, I can’t touch her beautiful tits, kissing is without tongue, and our rare sex is missionary and in the dark. I’m miserable.

I believe she’s depressed. She refuses to get help, saying that if only I would do this or that, she would be more willing. But I do this and that, and she’s still not interested. After a lot of talking, she suggested that I find a girlfriend for sex. However, she set conditions that were unrealistic: She wanted to meet and approve of her before I slept with her; and I could only see this other person late at night, with the wife’s permission, which would only be granted after ALL other family obligations were satisfied (kids in bed, bills paid, trash taken out, etc.). I preferred a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach. She then withdrew the idea entirely. I proceeded to meet and sleep with several different women anyway, and I am now seeing one regularly. Sex is enjoyable again.

My question: I know that people would say I am cheating on my wife, but am I wrong to feel just as cheated by her?

Need Some Answers

No.

You are a terrible person who shouldn’t be allowed to give advice to anyone about anything. Whose idea was it to give an asshole faggot like you an advice column, anyway? You’re a stupid piece of shit who doesn’t know anything about sex or the human heart, and you will regret everything you’ve ever done and every word you’ve ever written once you die and have to stand before your Creator.

God Hates You

Maybe so.

A couple months ago, I sent you an e-mail thanking you for doing what you do. Today, the power of your voice hit home. As you know, an angry, sexually frustrated gunman went on a killing spree at a fitness center in Pittsburgh. Reading the killer’s blog, I was struck by the similarity of his situation to that of the lonely, sexually frustrated men you counseled in your column the week before the shooting. Of course the similarity between the shooter and your correspondents ends there: George Sodini did not reach out; the men who wrote you did.

The reason this strikes so close to home is that my situation for years was very similar to Sodini’s and to the lonely men who you helped in that column. Although I wasn’t a virgin, I was “clogged up” and unable to get close to people physically and emotionally. I overcame my fears and hang-ups, and life is good now. But it wasn’t easy. I was never as angry as the man who shot up the fitness center, but I was absolutely as lonely and isolated as he was and every bit as lonely as the men whose letters you answered. Maybe if I’d been alone another 14 years—I found my life partner at 34—I might have become that angry.

Middle-Aged Family Guy

Thank you for the note, MAFG, and thanks—I think—for pointing me to George Sodini’s blog. The blog has been pulled down, but it is extensively quoted in news reports and it makes for depressing reading. It’s never pretty when chronic sexual deprivation and a lifetime of romantic rejection slam into a narcissistic personality with sociopathic tendencies who happens to live in a country awash in guns:

“I actually look good. I dress good, am clean-shaven, bathe, touch of cologne—yet 30 million women rejected me, over an 18- or 25-year period. That is how I see it. Thirty million is my rough guesstimate of how many desirable single women there are.”

So, hey, why not go shoot up an aerobics class full of women?

A woman I knew at college—an antiviolence activist, righteous and right-on—used to say, “Testosterone is gasoline, porn the match.” I disagree. Testosterone is gasoline—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing (gas makes things go)—but sexual frustration is the match.

I’m not suggesting that this tragedy could’ve been averted if only some selfless woman had “taken one for the team” and married Sodini, an asshole and a sociopath. The women who rejected him obviously saw him for what he was and were right to run in the other direction. But if someone had told Sodini, who hadn’t had sex since 1990, to see sex workers—something I advised the guys in my column two weeks ago to consider (among other things)—it might have taken the edge off his anger and kept it from curdling into homicidal rage. Maybe if we, as a society, valued sex workers and sex work, if we legalized and regulated it, and if we viewed “paying for it” as a legitimate option for guys who would otherwise go without for decades, perhaps this tragedy could have been averted.