Biddy B – Mr. James Bidgood’s advice columnist friend is back this summer, to cool us down with her rapier wit and sagely advice. If you have questions for Biddy B, email email@example.com!
Dear Biddy B,
Grindr is a cell phone tool that tells you which gay men are in the neighborhood, and who might be interested in euphemistically “hanging out”. This is convenient and easy enough, though I’ve only hooked up with someone once. The problem is, the only way I know how to start a conversation is by opening with jokes. It’s hit or miss, but I’m wondering if you have any advice: when you want to fuck, are jokes oft-putting? Who has more power – the person who asks if you want to have sex – or the one who puns and waits for the other person to ask?
Well, Dahling, I think it worth noting that in my day one needed to unhook in order to hang out but time marches on or minces on, whichever pace and posture most suits you. The wants and ways of the world have changed and yet they are not all that different really. Grindr (rhymes with hinder finder if your lingo is not au current and you were struggling) is reminiscent of the accommodating Sunday New York Times Apartment To Share advertisements, a convenience used for much the same allying or amalgamating purposes back in the day. One phrased ones notice in a slightly veiled, somewhat camouflaged fashion— “Panoramic view —pretty poof in parlor” or “Musically inclined—pound pink triangle with steel rod.” I once came across, “Oubliette to share. Vaultish. Extensive silly cone toy collection. A cat, a comb, a large box.” I dialed several times however their line was always busy.
With regard to your opening jocularity, stand ups most often get stood up. No matter how pithy the punch line —it is seldom followed by a poke. Place yourself on the other end as it were—what would your first impression be if a 23 year old reincarnation of Henny Youngman picked up inquiring, “How is everybody out there tonight? Having a good time are we? Last evening the KKK Grand Wizard and a Latvian gentleman walked into a public house. “One Black Russian and one Rusty Nail!” ordered the Grand Wizard and the Latvian humbly added “and barkeep, be a good lad and hook ‘em up for us?”
I know its a sorry excuse for a witticism, Mrs. Blatourbotum! I am not attempting to roll anyone in the aisle or split sides—only to make a point! And exactly when, Dahling, did a po-faced fun sponge such as yourself become a comedy critic.
Sex between strangers is serious business. Even nude and with woody, might you later answer the door wearing only a Groucho mustache, nose and glasses with perhaps a lampshade on your head? Never mind how improved your appearance might be doing so or how enthusiastic your high five, I am relatively certain you will have canceled that evenings festivities. Certainly during the performance itself, a bevy of such bon mots are bound to take a toll on ones tumescence. Any crowd pleasing or gag show should only be encouraged at an orgy or a gang banging and if you are the top banana preferably it will be in reference to your positioning and prodigious proportions.
Who has more power you ask and I have no idea still I will hazard a guess—the participant who shows up wearing the most metal chains and black leather?
Remember, Dahling, neither person is calling a comedy club to arrange a reservation —this is a booty call, plain and simple, needing only an exchange of names—-the less “personality “ the better—followed by a time saving painfully honest description of ones self — whatever the possibilities might be—and other than that, whether or not —when and where. If, however, you still insist on relating a shaggy dog story it had best be about once playing veterinarian heeling a plushy on your examination table.
Dear Biddy B,
I’m a gay man in my 20′s and I’ve been enjoying anal sex for about two years. I’m always careful about it, keeping it clean and using lube, and I only ever put fingers and penises in there, nothing abnormal. Here’s my issue: I’ve noticed that I’ve become looser. A little bit looser is obviously a good thing because it makes the act easier, but I’m concerned that my ass might continue to get looser and looser until it is a health problem. My question is, I know that women can do certain exercises to strengthen their vagina muscles, so I was wondering if there is anything comparable I could do for my ass muscles?
Dear Mister Ned,
Well, Dahling, your inquiry might better have been directed to Suzanne Somers. I am no way, no where near down with the kiddies apropos colonic calisthenics and I hasten to add most of those acquaintances I have made traveling over the bridge to Plimpton were quite to the contrary— hoping to build a superhighway. In fact I have known several overextended persons so unconstrained it would be difficult to tell the difference between their sphincter and the bermuda triangle.
However— at the annual Ladies Aid Societies reunion and mortar and pestle peanut butter making, that by happy chance my dear friend Miss Winifred Scruggs and I attended some months ago, those participating were whist crushing their nuts, all going on, gushing endlessly about a certain Dr. Arnold Kegel and pelvic floors and toning devices and such. Miss Winifred immediately put in an order for the prescribed display and biofeedback apparatus and the one and one quarter inch stainless steel Ben Wa balls and soon thereafter was spending a considerable amount of time seated with pressure probe inserted clenching for ten counts and then not for ten counts. It was, I am afraid, far too insistent and physically stimulating leaving her limp as a rag, exhausted and, curiously enough, wanting to puff on a cigarette. She then braved the vaginal weights although, sad to say, the invariable knee bruising pulled the plug on that significant advancement.
There was no damage done other than her walking woefully upright ever since and a compromising occurrence, one mid-afternoon she decided to further challenge herself and clutching the display firmly between her thighs, she put both weights and probe in place adding a vaginal cone. By and by the tenant next door thought he smelled something rubbery burning and cried out at the top of his lungs, FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! It seemed but seconds later, when much to her dismay, two frantic firemen broke down her door forcing her to evacuate the premises post haste. It was, as it turns out, only a false alarm nevertheless Miss Winifred is now a neighborhood celebrity.
Should you involve yourself in any of these glute squeezes or anal contractions I would be heedful whatever resulting development does not cause injury if not to yourself to the other party involved. Never mind the source of your alarm—perhaps you misunderstood the CNN headline, “Moon hole might be suitable for colony!” if such tunnel explorations were a matter to be that concerned about we would all have been tripping over one another’s rectal prolapses long ago. Two digits, unless you normally defecate mouse droppings, is hardly sufficient to wear out the elastic as it were. Possibly when you’ve reached ten lumberjacks toes you might consider seeing a specialist in that area. You’ll know you’ve taken things too far if your proctologist recommends you install a safety railing around it.
One more word to the whatever—abnormal is far too relative a term to be bandied about so, forgive me my choice of adverb, loosely.
Yes, Mrs. Blatourbotum and thank you so very much for pointing that out to us, both of these gentlemen’s inquiries do involve “hanging out.” I myself find it nearly an inexcusable oversight that the Kegel and simultaneous Glute Bridge instructions comprise no part of my “Sit and Be Fit” workouts with Miss Mary Ann Wilson. Evidently the woman is heavily invested in shares of Depends!
Its said “Everything old is new again.” I am waiting. I would agree it often seems of late as if we were living in a Dickens Novel—only with e books and blackberries. I may even live long enough to hear popular vocalists sing lyrics not sounding as if they had just returned, mouths still anesthetized, from dental surgery. And who can say— one day miracle of miracles musical compositions may again involve melody lines calling for a range of notes greater than those available from a kettle drum.
And here’s a thought out of the blue so to speak—I wonder what consequences, if any, would result should every person on our planet place as large a mirror as possible on any bit of ground near by—turning the earth into a giant Disco Ball! I wonder, would the cosmos vibrate with the heavenly sounds of Miss Donna Summers Last Dance or Love to Love You Baby with angels singing backup. I wonder would the Milky Way be so pleased as to lift itself into a slight yet provocative smile.
Thank you for allowing me to once again enter your consciousness and Oh, I think I hear your phone ringing —well tinkling actually — until our next rendezvous, dear friend. Give a kind thought now and again to
Miss Biddy B