Afrodisio Aguado Advice from a straight white male by Don Jeremy

Dear Don Jeremy,
I’ve been dating a French guy for about 6 months, and things are going well, except for one little thing. About every 3 weeks or so he gets really drunk and wets the bed. Could you offer me some phrasing that would allow me to gently open up the topic for discussion, without offending?

Penelope Pussycat

Dear Penelope,
You may be worrying too much. The French can be direct and confrontational, and they have a keen sense for drama. I suggest you grimace, squeeze your nose between your fingers and shout: “Mais, ça pue! C’est comme si une chatte avait pissé dans le lit, et c’est pas la mienne!” (May, sa poo! Say cohm see oon shat a-vay peessay dahn luh lee, ay say pah lah myen!)

If that’s too much of a mouthful, then tell him that he while may be unaware of it (he almost certainly is), you have noticed he has an unfortunate tendency to urinate in his sleep after he drinks, which is why you have decided that in the future, whenever you share a bed with him after he’s had a few, you’ll be tying a Condis bag around his dick and making a waterproof seal around it with industrial rubber bands and a stapler. Show him the Condis bag and the rubber bands and the stapler.

Dear Don Jeremy,
Spain is a dream for a lot of Brits and maybe for me more than most as I have heard that nudism is legal and that in Barcelona you can even go nude on the street! I am thinking about coming over to live in this paradise so I can walk the streets unencumbered by clothes and get to stare at beautiful Spanish breasts which I assume are wiggling and wobbling all over the streets. Is it true and, if so, are some places better to go than others to get a look at this priceless Spanish beauty?

Titty Britty

Dear Titty Britty,
In all my years I have only seen three naked individuals on the streets of Barcelona (the streets – not the beach).

One was a sunburned fiftysomething man, tattooed and toothless, aggressively happy and brandishing his penis like a caveman club. I imagine that someone, somewhere, might have been excited to see that. Not me.

The second was a pale and balding eighty-something woman crossing the street buck naked, except for the diaper she was wearing and trying to maintain closed on one side with her hands. This happened around lunchtime. Finally, I was walking past a primary school in my neighborhood one Monday morning when I saw a young and vacant-eyed woman squatting and leaning against the wall, her skirt lifted over her thighs and her hairy genitals on public display.

These are just anecdotes, and yet a pattern seems to emerge that street streaking is practiced by citizens of low socio-economic standing here in the Ciutat Comtal. There isn’t all that much to see, because you’ll have no fantasies about sex with these people.

If you come to Barcelona, keep to the beach to peep free teats.

Dear Don Jeremy,
I don’t know if I have ever had an orgasm. Certain things feel good, but it never feels the way I have heard an orgasm described, with bright colours bursting behind your eyelids and involuntary screaming. Can you help me? How do I know when it has happened to me? Is it because I have only ever slept with Catalans?

Orgasmless

Dear Orgasmless,
I rather suspect that your missing orgasm can be found with all those other things, still stubbornly absent from your life, which you hope to summon into being with outlandish expectations. Colors bursting? Involuntary screaming? Is this coitus, or an epileptic playing a video game?

If you really don’t know whether you have ever had an orgasm, try the following experiment as a kind of analogy: drop to the ground and start doing pushups. Eventually, you will reach the point where doing one more (or that tricky first) push-up seems impossible. This is called muscle failure. Your arms tremble as you try to lift yourself up; you push and you strain but it’s hopeless. Now call upon a force higher than yourself for one last ounce of strength and give the ground a shove with all you’ve got. That exquisite spasm in your muscle fibers as you collapse into relief on the ground is something like an orgasm, except orgasms take place in the center of the body where there are more nerve endings (the clitoris has a particularly dense concentration).

In any case, as absurd as it may seem in this results-oriented age, orgasm need not be the ‘goal’ of sexual congress. Many traditions around the world, such as Taoism in ancient China, have counseled that men abstain from ejaculating frequently, as it depletes their vital energy (qi).

Women in Taoism, on the other hand, are encouraged to have as many orgasms as possible.

And don’t blame the host population, my expat friend. That’s cheap and looks bad on you.

Dear Don Jeremy,
It has been so long since I last had an STD check that the name has changed to STI. The last time I had one in Spain, a man with a comb-over and a stained raincoat type of uniform had me naked on the hospital bed giving me a breast examination along with everything else. The thing is, I think I have contracted herpes or something as equally creepy as I have soft, flesh-colored warts around my genital area. I don’t want another experience like the last. Do doctors have to examine you or could I simply take a photo in to show?

Warty

Dear Warty,
In the Western medical tradition, a reliable diagnosis cannot be obtained without first conducting a live physical examination ¬– even if you are Terri Schiavo. So if you ever hope to identify or get treatment for your soft herpal warts, you will have to face the music. Responsible is sexy.