JANUARY 23, 1998 GAY PEOPLE'S Chronicle 19

BIG TIPS

Where do I find guys who want more than just sex?

by M.T. "the Big Tipper” Martone

So, it's been-over six months now, and I know I should expect a little dropoff in, say, those almost nightly romantic dinners. Perhaps a bit more reluctance to drop everything at the sound of any Prince song, to engage in the forbidden dance. Fewer rides for trips under a mile. But I never suspected that I'd be staring into the maw of a relationship problem so terrible and unspoken, it hasn't even been bandied about in the panels of Dykes to Watch Out For.

I'm breaking the silence: My sweetie and I are experiencing Lesbian Yahtzee Death. I swear to you; the first month, the mere rattle of dice would put a flush to her cheeks. After a game, she'd lean back on my couch and drag on one perfectly rolled cigarette, and we'd just wait for our hearts to stop pounding. Now, despite my quiet reminders that it's been a while, it's just never the right time.

A sensitive friend got me a hand-held electric Yahtzee game so I could take care of my own needs, but a crueler blow has still been dealt. I can't wrestle it away from my girlfriend. "It's not you, it's the game," my

ass.

Dear M.T.,

I'm a survivor of the local gay clubs: 15 years, and I am still single. I find sex on the first night unworthy of my time and energy, and I find the shallowness of sexually active guys obscene. They are only looking for a quickie, or are gold-diggers, like the strippers in the bars, rubbing up against you for your dollars. Pure sleaze. "Look at my penis!" (rub rub) "Give me a drink! Tip me some money!" (rub rub).

I am now in my late 30s. I see nothing but pseudo-masculine images in the bars.

Everyone's looking for that perfect mate who's "hung": It's not love of the person, but love of the appendage!

I make ice-breaking hellos to new people, and I'm asked, "What do you drive? You work where? What section of the city do you live in? What do you get into? "Isay, "Çards, Scrabble, Bingo, camping, fishing, etc. "They laugh at me and ask if I'm a top or bottom. Top of what? Whose bottom?

Since I've remained HIV negative despite 23% of the gay scene being HIV positive, I've obviously lived correctly!

Recently, after four dates with this guy, we finally had sex. He objected to a condom. It was awkward and clumsy. I held back. When I brought up the AIDS factor, he got defensive. So we just jerked off. I felt used and hurt. When he was showering, I got up and left. Later we spoke, and his only comment was that he needs a larger penis. His last lover was 9" with a 5" circumference. I'm just not that big.

Where do the real guys hang out? I'm not sexually addicted.

Looking for the Real Thing at 39

Dear Survival of the Bitterest,

I can only hope you were drunk when you wrote this, because if not, you're projecting some serious bitterness that's gonna make it really hard for you to score. What are the odds that folks who focus their lives on bar culture can be shallow or drunk, not focusing all of their human energy on divining your deep personal characteristics? Let's see, hmm... pretty high.

Soo-o, if you don't like bars, get the hell out. Find some boys who like to fish or play Scrabble. Put a personal ad in this paper for like-minded chaps, and go ahead and specify that they not be size queens.

Not to beat a dead horse, but it's shitty and incorrect to say that your HIV status indicates any sort of "correctness" of lifestyle. And, if you're shocked and disappointed that a stripper would rub up against you and ask for money, you're probably also surprised that grocery stores don't just charge a cover, then let you graze and leave.

Dear Big Tipper,

The topic at hand is this: We are two loving lesbians in a long-term relationship who experience PMS simultaneously. What shall we do? We both care a lot about each other's well being and happiness, but at the same time we seem individually checked out, especially when we are both tired or stressed out. We need, we want, we care, but neither one of us can give back, and we find ourselves bummed out, or just emotionally drained.

Is it true that hormones can override emotions? Why does this happen, month after month? You would think that after 12 years of living and menstruating together, we could negotiate some sort of coping strategies, like hiring a housekeeper, or separately checking into resort hotels, or ordering take-out for a full week each month. Any ideas?

PMSers

Dear Devoted and Bloated,

You must have some successful coping mechanisms in place already, like forgiveness, since you've made it for 12 happy years. The other three weeks, throw in a little extra loving, to make up for the emotionally vacant week coming up. Ironic, isn't it, that we spend so much time wishing we were “in sync" with the folks we care about, when sometimes that's grim in reality.

It doesn't sound like either one of you is about to become incredibly supportive or present during that week, so keep your expectations reasonable in house, and take your big needs to chums outside your pad. Lay low, and count to seven. It sounds like you're doing great already.

Want to get some advice in real time? I cohost Savage Love Live, a weekly call-in radio sex advice program, and we're broadcasting live on the Internet. Check out the site: www.savageonline.com.

(We're on hiatus for January, so we're running greatest hits reruns all month.)

Meanwhile, please keep sending your burning questions on life and love to M.T. Martone, care of the Chronicle, P.O. Box 5426, Cleveland 44101, or fax to 216-631-1052, or e-mail to martone(@drizzle.com.

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