Dear Lisa: My Husband Wants to Try Something Weird In Bed—Should I?
Our advice columnist answers tough questions about fearing kink, getting inked and wearing a potentially deadly dress.
Illustration: Graham Roumieu
Dear Lisa,
My husband wants to try something weird in bed, but I'm not sure I'm up for it. Yikes!
— Just Not Sold
My Doubtful Dear,
I'm going to need a little help here. Let's define "weird in bed." Are we talking wife swapping, is he interested in 50 shades of Greying you, or is it more of an "Okay, honey, tonight I'll be the wombat and you be the ambassador to Australia" kind of thing?
We all do stuff we don't want to do from time to time. I was recently talked into editing the college application essay of my dermatologist's niece, and believe me, reading 16 pages about her life-changing trip to a spelling bee in Secaucus, New Jersey, was not worth a couple of extra samples of eczema cream and a free mole check. But where was I? Ah, yes: In life we all have to deal with things we'd really rather skip; in bed, we don't!
And yet...just be very sure that this trip to the dark side isn't worth at least a try. I mean, did I think I'd like sea urchin, my ex-boyfriend's new wife, or season 3 of Homeland? Of course not! But then one day you're sitting at a sushi bar, minding your own business, when all of a sudden Mrs. Perfect wanders in, and before you know it, the two of you are huddled together, fretting over Mandy Patinkin while slurping urchin broth like there's no tomorrow. You see, my ambivalent buddy, there's something to be said for staying open to possibility.
But having said that something, if this weird sex thing is really not for you, then consider coming up with a more appealing alternative. Repeat after me: "Unfortunately, Mortimer, I'm simply not bendy enough to replicate any of the choreography from Cirque du Soleil, but I'd be utterly delighted to..." well, you fill in the kinky blank. The heart, after all, is a fragile critter, and the last thing you want to do is make your man sorry he asked.
Dear Lisa,
My wedding is in November, and I found a luscious vintage velvet dress to wear. The problem is, it's lipstick red, and my mother says it will kill her if I actually wear it. Should I listen?
—In the Red
Dearly Beloved,
Of course you should listen—she's your mother! But once you've heard her out, frankly, Scarlett, I don't think you should give a damn.
I've done some research, and though the CDC has yet to release an estimate for 2015, it seems we are not projected to lose a great many mothers of the bride to the scourge of offbeat wedding gown choices. Note the lack of telethons, rubber bracelets, and ribbons tied to trees in the front yard.
It seems to me that the key phrase here is my wedding. Your mom has already had her wedding, and presumably, she wore whatever made her happy. If you're enough of a grown-up to commit the rest of your life to someone, then you're enough of a grown-up to wear what you want until death do you part. Tell your mom that you love her and you totally see her point. Then explain that your backup plan involves a plaid pantsuit, hand her a Xanax, and go buy your dream dress!
Dear Lisa,
Should I get a tattoo?
—It Works for Angelina Jolie...
Dear Not Mrs. Brad Pitt,
To tattoo or not to tattoo, that is the question. I myself flirted with the idea of inking 5/26/81 on my shoulder, for it was on that glorious morning 34 years ago that I finally achieved my goal weight. I celebrated with spaghetti carbonara and was back in my fat pants inside of 72 hours, but I still had an urge to mark the event. The thing is, the urge passed—they do that sometimes. So, if you have to ask, then I have to answer: No, you should not get a tattoo.
Lisa Kogan is O's writer at large and the author of Someone Will Be with You Shortly: Notes from a Perfectly Imperfect Life. To ask Lisa a question, email asklisa@hearst.com.
My husband wants to try something weird in bed, but I'm not sure I'm up for it. Yikes!
— Just Not Sold
My Doubtful Dear,
I'm going to need a little help here. Let's define "weird in bed." Are we talking wife swapping, is he interested in 50 shades of Greying you, or is it more of an "Okay, honey, tonight I'll be the wombat and you be the ambassador to Australia" kind of thing?
We all do stuff we don't want to do from time to time. I was recently talked into editing the college application essay of my dermatologist's niece, and believe me, reading 16 pages about her life-changing trip to a spelling bee in Secaucus, New Jersey, was not worth a couple of extra samples of eczema cream and a free mole check. But where was I? Ah, yes: In life we all have to deal with things we'd really rather skip; in bed, we don't!
And yet...just be very sure that this trip to the dark side isn't worth at least a try. I mean, did I think I'd like sea urchin, my ex-boyfriend's new wife, or season 3 of Homeland? Of course not! But then one day you're sitting at a sushi bar, minding your own business, when all of a sudden Mrs. Perfect wanders in, and before you know it, the two of you are huddled together, fretting over Mandy Patinkin while slurping urchin broth like there's no tomorrow. You see, my ambivalent buddy, there's something to be said for staying open to possibility.
But having said that something, if this weird sex thing is really not for you, then consider coming up with a more appealing alternative. Repeat after me: "Unfortunately, Mortimer, I'm simply not bendy enough to replicate any of the choreography from Cirque du Soleil, but I'd be utterly delighted to..." well, you fill in the kinky blank. The heart, after all, is a fragile critter, and the last thing you want to do is make your man sorry he asked.
Dear Lisa,
My wedding is in November, and I found a luscious vintage velvet dress to wear. The problem is, it's lipstick red, and my mother says it will kill her if I actually wear it. Should I listen?
—In the Red
Dearly Beloved,
Of course you should listen—she's your mother! But once you've heard her out, frankly, Scarlett, I don't think you should give a damn.
I've done some research, and though the CDC has yet to release an estimate for 2015, it seems we are not projected to lose a great many mothers of the bride to the scourge of offbeat wedding gown choices. Note the lack of telethons, rubber bracelets, and ribbons tied to trees in the front yard.
It seems to me that the key phrase here is my wedding. Your mom has already had her wedding, and presumably, she wore whatever made her happy. If you're enough of a grown-up to commit the rest of your life to someone, then you're enough of a grown-up to wear what you want until death do you part. Tell your mom that you love her and you totally see her point. Then explain that your backup plan involves a plaid pantsuit, hand her a Xanax, and go buy your dream dress!
Dear Lisa,
Should I get a tattoo?
—It Works for Angelina Jolie...
Dear Not Mrs. Brad Pitt,
To tattoo or not to tattoo, that is the question. I myself flirted with the idea of inking 5/26/81 on my shoulder, for it was on that glorious morning 34 years ago that I finally achieved my goal weight. I celebrated with spaghetti carbonara and was back in my fat pants inside of 72 hours, but I still had an urge to mark the event. The thing is, the urge passed—they do that sometimes. So, if you have to ask, then I have to answer: No, you should not get a tattoo.
Lisa Kogan is O's writer at large and the author of Someone Will Be with You Shortly: Notes from a Perfectly Imperfect Life. To ask Lisa a question, email asklisa@hearst.com.
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