It serves the truth or your point not one whit ...

It serves the truth or your point not one whit the way you responded to the older gentleman this week ("Dategirl," July 30). We should properly remind ourselves that besides deserving a modicum of respect due to his age, this polite gentleman may be more mature, intelligent, secure, kind and spiritually realized than you, me or anyone. He just does not know how to get a gal to fulfill a fetish, one that is not simple to navigate successfully-even without the disadvantage of being older, and therefore not as desirable to most women as a non-senior.

So he does not have adequate "initiative and ingenuity" for your taste-at least in this one difficult area. There is absolutely no reason to "frown" on this gentleman, and begrudge any practical suggestions. Yes, it is unprofessional-but more importantly, it is not humane.

You just contribute to the general culture of reflexive crude anger and brittle insults this way, as well as the resentment between the sexes. Notice though I have strong feelings toward your public attitudes, I am not name-calling or calling you deficient and sick. I feel pained about this, not swelling with anger. If you can, unthreatened, recognize this as respectful concern, instead of an attempt to handle you as I have decried, you are certainly secure with more than the seeds of goodwill, patience and compassion.

-Mike

I'm so sorry-okay, not really-that my response to the clueless pee freak caused you pain, but I'm sticking to my guns. Being a successful pervert takes dedication, hard work and a lot of preparation. Not everyone's cut out for the job. If Chief Yellow Stream had written me from a teensy town in Montana, I would've been heaps more patient and helpful. But he didn't. He lives in New York City. And he wrote to me-a columnist whose words are surrounded by advertisements offering all manner of depravity for sale-asking how he could convince some broad to piss on him. Ever hear of a major credit card?

The life of a sexual deviant is not an easy one. You face rejection, people laugh at you and oftentimes it seems like nobody on the planet understands you. It demands a thick skin and sometimes-if you're unattractive, old or your kink is way out there-an even thicker wallet.

After he got laid off from his real job, my friend Brian started driving one of those bicycle-powered rickshaws. The other night he was waiting for fares up at the Plaza Hotel when a well-dressed, middle-aged man strolled up and hired him for a ride down to Union Square. Brian and his fare enjoyed a pleasant chat down Fifth Ave., and as they rolled up to 14th St., the passenger asked Brian if he might make a somewhat strange request. Now Brian is straight, but is one of those fellas that gay dudes fall all over. He reckoned the guy was going to ask him out, or for a kiss or head or something along those lines. It happens often, and unlike a lot of breeder boys, Brian realizes a compliment is a compliment, and not a threat to his manhood. Even still, he was wholly unprepared for what this guy wanted: his socks.

His dirty, stanking, rode-around-all-day-in-'em socks. Brian pointed out that they were really filthy and sweaty, but that just got the guy even more excited, and he quickly offered him a hundred bucks for the pleasure. Brian's a lot of things, but a fool ain't one of them. He was barefoot before the bike wheels had stopped spinning. As they made the transaction, his new friend was so overjoyed that he immediately buried his face in his moist, odiferous purchase.

Another buddy, Charlie, was enjoying a debauched evening out at a P-town leather bar when he met a young man whom he decided would be his boyfriend for the night. The two retired to Charlie's hotel room, and as they started to get down to business, the trick pulled a black, zipped pouch out of his bag. He opened it to reveal several long stainless steel rods. He asked Charlie to insert one into his pee-hole, and then begged to do the same to Charlie. Charlie's an open-minded fella and went along with it.

"I've never been so in touch with my urethra before or since," he informed me.

While not exactly his new favorite thing, Charlie was willing to give it the old college try because well, what the hell? The guy was hot.

I've told you these two heartwarming success stories to illustrate the bravery and perseverance involved in being true to one's kink. Señor Sock Sucker had been laughed at and turned down (and probably physically threatened) many times before he found someone willing to sell him sweaty socks. And I'm certain Cathy Catheter got shot down a few times prior to Charlie as well. But did a little rejection or humiliation stop either of them or make them rethink their kink? Nope. Because they're made from stronger stuff than that. Let these two daring deviants serve as an inspiration to us all.