Dear Dr Dick,
Is there anyone out there in Bugland faced with the same horrendous problem I have? Immediately after my wife and I make love, she inevitably grabs the spent condom, holds it up to our bedside light and squeezes all the contents down to the bubble end. She then swings the rubber back and forward with one eye closed, like a scientist examining a test tube for clinical results, and checks out how I've "performed". If the contents aren't sufficient or to her liking for whatever reason that takes her fancy, she pouts and condemns me with a whiny "Don't you love me any more?" I find it humiliating enough to have to use a condom when I've been faithful to my wife for the past 63 years, but this offensive habit of hers has me near breaking point. Any advice would be gratefully appreciated.
Always On Show,
Crows Nest, Sydney
Dr Dick replies:
I'd dump her immediately. There are any number of mature aged women
out there who would be prepared to share your bed without any need for the
sort of offensive performance test you've described. Besides, at 93, there's
a very good chance you're going to stand out from the crowd at your local
singles bar.
Dear Dr Dick,
I am an attractive woman in my mid 30s with a very healthy sexual appetite
and a large number of partners already under my belt, so to speak. My trouble
is this: the modern Australian male seems to think that oral sex is the
be all and end all of a sexual encounter. Time and time again I am confronted
by the top of the head of guys who seem hell-bent on doing the 400 metre
individual tongue medley when I'd be much more satisfied with a partner
who's man enough for a face-to-face encounter where he's more than happy
with a no-nonsense 1500 metre freestyle, if you get my drift - back and
forward, back and forward, back and forward. Personally, I blame this muff-diving
trend on all those women's supermarket magazines. It's so common now that
men can get a little miffed if you try to suggest that some of the old fashioned
strokes are still the best.
Oh for an Australian Crawl,
South Melbourne
Dr Dick replies:
Sometimes, questions to this column are difficult to respond to fully
because of a lack of information on the part of the person seeking advice.
In this case, it's your home address.
Dear Doctor Dick,
Why do a lot of younger Aussie women think they're sitting on a fortune?
Forbidden Fruit Eater, 26
Bendigo.
Dr Dick replies:
So bitter and twisted at such a young age!
But, yes, it's true, isn't it? When I was a young man going through what was a rather depressing and lengthy drought (April 6, 1963 to May 13, 1967 but who's counting!) I spent my lonely, frustrated hours wondering why many young women didn't appear to regard the sex act as being the spontaneous, fun thing that males see it as. And why, if they finally deigned to share their body with you, it was with the sense that they were doing you an enormous favour and you were expected to be humbled and exceptionally grateful for the experience, no matter how fleeting or clumsy.
It's truly one of life's great paradoxes that while precious metals such as gold understandably earn their value because demand invariably outstrips very limited supply, that most precious petal of all extracts an almost unreasonably high price even though statistics show there's generally more than enough of it to go around.
It was during one of these lengthy periods of forced though far from voluntary abstinance that I first realised that in a perfect world, men would have their own vagina.
My reasoning was that if men had they own set of those wondrous nooks and crannies that always seems to get them in such an excitable state, except if they're from Sydney, then their women friends would quickly come to the realisation that their own vagina was not quite the precious, sought-after commodity they'd been raised to believe after all.
"Hey, Burt, wanna come over here and play with my vagina?"
"No thanks, Cheryl. Just gave me own a bit of a playful tweak half an hour ago."
In this perfect world, a man's vagina would be slap bang in the middle of his right or left outer thigh - outer forearm perhaps, it really didn't matter where - as long as he could wear it proudly, play with it as often as he wanted and admire it in the mirror whenever that took his fancy. In this way, the whole mystique sourrounding the vagina would be lifted from an adolescent boy's soul, even if his homework would suffer a fair bit.
Now I know some of you are starting to think: this isn't a perfect world at all. Men would quickly lose interest in women and the human race would disappear from the planet.
Not so. For in my perfect world, you see, just like you can't put your elbow in your ear unless you've been in a really bad car accident, a man's vagina, no matter how adjacent, would always be just tantalisingly out of reach of his own penis when erect.
Now this might sound very frustrating for a callow youth with his pipes full, but any less frustrating than being surrounded by the stuff and still not capable of the occasional look-in? Having a vagina of your own would indeed be the perfect world for men.
"Hey, Cheryl, do ya wanna, you know, go for it?"
"No. Not really."
"Fair enough. I'm just gonna drop out for an hour, perhaps go down the pub and have a few beers with Tom.
"Tom? You've been knocking around with him a fair bit lately, haven't you?"
"So? He's a good mate."
"Hmmm. You'd better come over here right now, buster!"
Like I said. Perfect world.
Dear Doctor Dick,
My wife says she doesn't like sex as much since I shaved off my moustache.
Peter Beattie,
Parliament House, Brisbane .
Dr Dick replies:
Talk about going down in the polls!
