For A Good Time, Call
Tell me you hate me

Has sex become a big fucking bore? Are you considering drastic measures to reinvigorate your libido as it suffers from pre-millennial stress? Lydia understands. You need an injection of Tough Love.

See also...
... by Lydia Lunch
... in the Crave section
... from November 4, 1999

Dear Lydia,

My wife recently struck the final death blow to my ego. She screamed, "You're a lousy lay" so loudly I heard the neighbors next door chuckle. I admit I have a problem: I can't maintain a solid erection unless I completely hate the woman I'm with. I don't mean dislike. I mean hate. The more I despise the fabric and essence of her very being, the bigger the hard-on and the better I put it to her. I'm sick of one-night stands profiting from my perverted prowess. I'd like to share the wealth with the one who deserves it most. Any advice?

Signed,

Hate Fucker

Dear Fucker,

I can't count the men who have confided in me the same complaint. Hate can be a very liberating thing. Since the other person is used simply as a depository of your most wretched emotions, it has an almost cleansing effect. A lot of women dig it too. It allows them the freedom to be the pigs they truly are, and since they often despise the asshole they're porking, they feel no need to play coy (which is abhorrent under any conditions).

This scenario however, rarely plays well with one's life partner, who expects to be pampered and treated with respect. And in daily life, they should be. But the bedroom is a battlefield, where the worse a man acts, the better a woman usually thinks he is. Maybe you're afraid to show her how nasty you really are -- fearing she'll think less of you. Unleash the beast. At least the neighbors will know you're trying.

Dear Lydia,

Nothing gets me hotter than talking dirty to strangers. I really get off on leaving my phone number scrawled in public places: The men's toilets at sports bars, peep booths at porno dives, the restrooms of the local cineplex. My favorite repeat offender has a filthy run-on mouth and a fetish for explicit details about how many times I can squeeze my sphincter muscles within the three-minute time limit he has left on his calling card. I fear he may be underage. Could I get in trouble?

Signed,

Pacific Belle

Dear Belle,

I don't know what the ramifications of counting anal contractions out loud to a minor may be, but the bigger question is why aren't you getting paid for this? Start your own phone sex service and collect fast cash, while sitting on your ass and twiddling your puss. If you're investing a lot of time in this, go whole hog. Don't give away for free that which has a valid market value. You'll be rolling in dough and slick as a weasel in no time.

Lydia Lunch is a confrontational media-manipulator who has explored and exploited the written and spoken word, music, film, video, theatre, photography and sculpture. She is notorious for practicing public psychotherapy for the past two decades in an attempt to dissect the origin of obsessions.