"James, I like you fiction—a lot. But, in the interest of realism, and you do write in a realistic vein, I must inform you, that no woman would ask a man to "disrespect her," even if she went in for rough stuff. I know because I am a woman. Keep up the good work, stay crazy, and if you need any more tips on what goes on inside of a woman's head, just e-mail me."

-Janine

Thanks for the compliment, Janine, and also congratulations on knowing the erotic terminology of all 4 billion of your sisters. This is of great interest to me. I have never had a male reader write in and say, "No man would ever do this, or say that, ever," because us guys know that there are dudes that will do and say anything, including asking to be disrespected with a pink whippy-wand.

However, all of the most intelligent women I know, some a good deal smarter than I, have, at some point or another, made such an absolute statement, some not limited to women, but discussing men in combat. Leigh once said, "Jay could have never survived that injury, even if he is a genetically engineered super soldier."

However, the injury in question was survived by a woman I knew, who continued to scream and fight, and she was no super soldier!

This need for every woman to be the same, and in some cases for the woman to wish that all men, or all people are the same, seems ingrained in female kind. All of my female editors have this sense, and all object to me thinking that I can write about a woman's feelings and what she would do in this situation or that, what her sexual limits are, etc.

So, Janine you know, with absolute accuracy, that Janine would never ask a man to disrespect her, even if Janine desperately wanted some man to disrespect her. I believe that, get it, and understand it. I also have personal standards.

So, when "Big Titty" Tanyika wagged her G-cups at me and snarled playfully, "Mista' Jimmy, I wan ya ta disrespect dese, den disrespect da shit outta what dey attached to," I was a bit taken aback. Now, as much as Mister Jimmy may have been into giant, disembodied, milk chocolate, teenage, breastessez begging for discipline under his firm didactic hand, he had to pause at the prospect of getting intimate with someone who would just come out and say such a thing, in public, with Pete working the produce rack ten feet away.

Just before I broke up with this one psycho-bitch for the 17th [Okay, it may have been the 23rd time for all I know.] time, while declining a sexual opportunity because I was suffering from a severe concussion and the room was spinning, she said, "Get over it, sissy boy, and give me the disrespect I deserve."

And, last, but not least, while discussing general work subjects with a married female coworker—a boss, actually—I made the empathetic point to ask her how she was doing, to which she responded, "I'd be doing a lot better if I could get disrespected every once in a while, up to and including gagging...though I draw the line at having my head bounced off the dashboard."

Janine, I am a man of honor, even where indiscretions long past are concerned. So I leave it to you to figure out which of the three requests to be disrespected I honored.

Thanks for checking in and stay thirsty my friendess!