I've got no real answers to offer, though I did just finish reading a book that was excellent food for thought on this topic - Mating in Captivity by Esther Perel. If these last two entries resonated with you, read it.

What I will suggest is that we make a distinction between the feelings we express in relationships and the boundaries we maintain. Relationships get weird when there's either too much or too little of either of these elements.

Expressions of feelings - putting words to our emotional investment in the other - deserves consistency. Even when we're anxious or fearful, taking the other person involuntarily on our own emotional roller-coaster of ambivalence is unfair and works against us. Save that for angst-ridden conversations with friends or marathon therapy sessions. Consider talking less with the other person about how you feel, but when you do talk, work on saying what you feel clearly and take responsibility for figuring out your own mixed up reactions before you hide behind contradictions or ambiguities.

Boundaries may shift. We may make adjustments in our choices and our actions. This is where we need to work on accommodating differences, incorporating the other's needs and keeping ourselves separate, even in the midst of exploration and investment, in the interest of sustaining energy, excitement and passion. We may have a week where we see the other person every night. The next week, we may only see each other once. The frequency may have changed. The connection may allow for spontaneity or surprise, but our feelings remain the same.

I may or may not talk to you tomorrow, but I like you. I really like you when I see you a lot. And I really like you when there's space between us. In fact, us being separate means that I miss you, which reminds me how much I really like you.

Connection isn't about merging. It's about coming together and going apart and coming together again. The dance is sweet.

Emotional investment in another person can be terrifying. And yet, most of us are so hungry for it, we'll go to great lengths to find the opportunity to open ourselves and take in another. Even when it hurts a little, it makes us feel alive.

It's never easy and relationships are full of missteps. It's not a perfect system. But when we like what we're getting from the other person, starting from a foundation of mutuality and generous, authentic expressions of appreciation and caring go a long way and count for a lot. Remember, guessing where you're going for dinner on your next date or when they might call you in the middle of the night, just to let you know they were thinking about you can be playful and provocative. Guessing whether or not the other person likes you and likes kissing you or can't wait to find someone cooler to date so they can finally get away from you is torture.

In the process of getting to know someone and opening ourselves to another, our anxieties may knot our stomachs and keep us awake at night, but they may also offer a surge of adrenaline, a flush of our cheeks and an irresistible impulse to pump our fist in the air when that phone does ring and we're met with a barrage of sweet-nothings.

It's part of what makes dating interesting.

Soon enough though, many of us grow tired of guessing and long for clarity and stability. We start to grow accustomed to what the other offers us, and we want it when we want it. And we don't want to wait for it.

Some of us err on the side of predictability. We plan out everything. We talk/email/text the other person everyday. We want to know everything about the other person. The unknown stops being tantalizing and just makes us anxious or frustrated. We're more prone to feeling threatened. We need the other person to reassure us. We want more because more feels bigger and better and means we're less likely to be caught off guard in the end. We want to feel a sense of ownership - we'll never say it - but in asking for predictability or exclusivity, we want reassurance that we're not going to lose our investment. We know we stand a lot to lose and our awareness of that fact grows the deeper we allow ourselves to want from the other.

Some of us are all about spontaneity. Who knows when we might talk again? Maybe never? Everything is moment to moment. Contact with one another depends on our whims. Our emotional investment in the other person may come and go. Sometimes we may like the other person. Sometimes we're really digging her/him. Sometimes... eh... not so much... let's see what else is out there. We come and go. Approach and retreat. When we're into it and both on the same page, it's good, it feels great and everybody's needs get met. When there's a discrepancy between what we're needing and what the other person is needing, it can feel bothersome, frustrating or demanding. We feel when closeness or need threatens us. We worry about falling into something we can't control. We pull back. Deny our feelings. Send mixed messages.
We cast off what feels like a fit, just in case there's something we missed. We deny ourselves what feels satisfying and worthwhile in the interest of saving face should something take an unfortunate turn.

As humans, all of us long for consistency. It soothes us and makes us feel safe. It's comforting and predictable and helps us plan and feel in control. Many of us also want excitement, independence, freedom. We struggle with how to find a balance and we often end up neglecting one side of the equation or the other. Either way, we lose something. Potentiality slips away and regret creeps in. We swallow the mythology that this is what happens in relationships, and we close ourselves off to insight and to new possibilities.

So what, when faced with this paradox, are we to do?

Well... now, that's another blog entry...

In order to scoop ice cream well, you need five things: 1) the right tools; 2) a little confidence; 3) attention to impact; 4) perspective; and 5) practice.

Some examples…

Teddy has been working at Super Scoops for the past three summers. He’s one of the most efficient scoopers at the shop and, in less than a minute, can craft a triple scoop waffle cone that is so well balanced he can flip it backwards over his shoulder before finally passing it over the counter to his doe-eyed, pig-tailed customer. He is always careful to use a clean, warmed metal scoop and to bend at the elbow, not the wrist, when scooping. He applies just the right pressure from cream to cone, making sure to gently pack the inside as well, to insure that each bite is both smooth and crunchy. And on the rare occasion that he encounters a cracked cone, scoop slippage or drips? Well, Teddy simply shrugs it off with a chuckle, tosses the cone aside and starts again.

Tiny wanted to work at CD Heaven this summer but turned in his application too late. He grumbles at customers who ask for extra sprinkles or who don’t know the difference between a cake and a waffle cone. Tiny is always leaving the scoop inside the tubs of ice cream. They are always cold and sticky and the ice cream sticks and comes out flat and uneven. Tiny uses his fingers to unstick the ice cream. He is anxious and distracted and is either crushing the cones from too much pressure or precariously balancing his scoops on the hollow, dry cones, which wobble and leak onto the hands and shirts of his disgruntled customers. Tiny uses obscenities and offends parents of young children who are often seen leaving the shop crying, with empty fists and empty bellies.

Teddy gets online after work and notices that Talulah is online as well. Though he’s feeling a little tired, he takes a moment to send a quick “hello.” Teddy chats playfully with Talulah, alternating between thoughtful questions about her day, silly stories and flirtatious compliments and suggestions. He is careful not to overdo his use of smilies or acronyms. He never woos or sends virtual hugs or flowers. He reads Talulah’s responses carefully and monitors and adjusts his own responses throughout the exchange. If there is a misunderstanding or misstep, he is gracious and gently returns the conversation to a place that is mutual and comfortable. He is tasteful, but provocative, and very descriptive and he always leave Talulah with chills of anticipation when they finally sign off.

Tiny gets online to check his email, leaving himself signed in to chat, but feels annoyed when Talulah, who is actually super sexy and nice, sends him a “hello.” He sends one word responses, leaves conversations unannounced for extended periods and fumbles awkwardly as he comments exclusively about himself. He can tell Talulah likes him and wants to play but he’s tired and grumpy. Instead of signing off, he sulks and is self-deprecating and is unappreciative of Talulah’s attempts to cheer him up. Although Tiny can feel the awkwardness of the interaction, he is unattuned to Talulah’s social cues and chalks the bad feelings up to Talulah’s being needy or attention-seeking. When Tiny abruptly ends the conversation, Talulah is left feeling insecure, rejected and misunderstood.

Whether a Teddy or a Tiny, ice cream scooping, like flirting is sometimes hit or miss. But with practice and a willingness to take some chances, even Tiny can master the triple scoop and win Talulah’s heart, or at least score a hot makeout session one weekend.

And for those of you who scoff at the idea of flirting, online or otherwise, you can always pass up the frozen treats and order the pie. But sooner or later, you’re going to want it à la mode.

“Seven players, oiled up and usually wearing only boxers or briefs, gather on each side of a field. Each team takes its turn sending a 'raider' into enemy territory to tag one of his opponents. The raider must then get back to his side of the field before the tagged opponent can stop him. It is after the tag that kabaddi gets rough… scissor holds, tripping, headlocks — it's all fair. In the sports' traditional version, the raider isn't allowed to draw a breath while on the opposition's turf, and must continuously shout 'kabaddi-kabaddi-kabaddi' to prove he isn't cheating. In today's version, he has thirty seconds, and spends most of it locking limbs with his defender, the pair grinding groins together in a painful looking manner.”

The article goes on to question whether kabaddi is, in fact, any more or less homoerotic than other contact sports in which men participate. It’s an interesting question. Why is it that men, particularly straight-identifying men, engage so enthusiastically in outlets such as these? What is it about the sanctioned touching of other men, the sweat and grit of man-on-man contact, the grunting and ultimate release that comes from intense physical efforts to dominate one another that is so appealing?

Who are we kidding? Just about every playground game, boy club or professional sport you can think of is packed with eroticism (and not just because so many involve balls and sticks…)

And what about the ladies? Why is it that more women don’t find similar types of activities just as satisfying? I mean, I loved Red Rover but… well, actually…

Think about some of the playground games that were more often associated with girls.

Jumprope – Lots of boob movement. Ropes. Group voyeurism.

Mother May I, Simon Says, Red Light Green Light – All exercises in dominance and submission.

Crack the Whip – Need I say more?

Four Square – Balls and boxes.

And to say nothing of the countless opportunities we found to hold hands, caress each other’s hair, try on each other’s clothes and tongue kiss each other (I’m not alone here, right?)

Kabaddi is just one more excuse for us to hump our peers. (As if we need an excuse to hump our peers.) I say, more of it!

And if anyone's interested in starting a Crack the Whip league... I call Captain!

I am absolutely fascinated by people’s creation of profiles - the choices they make about which photos to post, the intense politics of listing friends (what order do you put them in and who gets displayed as your top 3?) Browsing through people’s obviously self-conscious descriptions of themselves is such an interesting study in human relationships – George Herbert Mead would need to change his trousers! You can take more risks online, say those things that you think your best friend who always has the best sexy stories to tell would say, be more playful, uninhibited. Of course, the trouble comes when things go really well and you actually want to meet the person and then realize that you'll probably never live up to the romantic image of yourself that they have enjoyed via email and instant messaging... but that's another blog entry.

There are three aspects of online interaction that I’ve found serve me well. The first is the amount of control I feel like I have over both my initial presentation and my subsequent responses. Now, I recognize that this sense of control is imperfect. I mean, bigfur49 who posted a webcam shot of himself in his stained flannel probably looked at his photo before he posted it and thought, "Oh yeah... that's the one!" and I'm guessing he didn't get the overwhelming response for which he was aiming. But still, having the option to proofread, to edit and to delete aspects of your presentation while still maintaining a relatively intact sense of self, is a real treat.

The second is the time delay – there is lag time between responses that allows for absorption of the information and the ability to review or modify responses before sending them. It’s not a perfect system (as anyone who has ever IM'd with me knows) but it helps.

And finally, distance. No matter how much I want someone to like my online persona, and no matter how accurately that persona represents my true self, if someone doesn’t like me, I can always reason that somehow my awesomeness got lost in translation… that if only they REALLY knew me, they would be chomping at the bit to be best friends forever. And so maybe if I tweak my profile a little, stop listing Card Sharks as one of my favorite shows, or add a new glamour shot where you can see my cut abs, all will be well again in my virtual life.

Yeah, maybe it means I spend more time online in a dark room than I really should. And maybe it saves me from taking certain social risks that would probably teach me things about myself that I never knew, but seriously... it's so much more fun and you can meet 40 new people in your neighorhood who are as enamored with Card Sharks as you are, without ever leaving the comfort of your desk chair. Plus, it's so much cheaper than therapy.

It’s actually quite simple, really. You see, Milton Bradley and Parker Brothers are sadists. Their goal is to tear your family apart – and not a neat tear, either – it seems the more painful and drawn out the conflict, the more successful the game.

The worst, by far, is Trivial Pursuit. Someone is sure to get punched in the throat during this one. Here’s why:

“Oh… that’s an easy one!”

“C’mon… you know the answer… just think.”

“I thought you said you were good at geography.”

“We should’ve gone with my answer.”

“Dammit… that would’ve been for a piece of the pie. Next time, I roll.”

But don’t get me wrong. It’s not just the intellectual challenge that creates conflict. Even a game as random as Sorry will do it.

“Sooorrrrryy…”

And these aren’t even games of strategy. I knew a woman whose whole family was murdered following a game of Othello. The note her brother left before taking his own life was clear, “I couldn’t stand it… Dad’s turn is so long. And I hate Mom and Cassie.”

Now that Game Night technology has exploded, families are at even greater risk. What sick bastard thought up a DVD version of Family Feud? Yeah, that’s what we need… throw a remote into the mix! Better yet, have the game run without being able to pause it… that way, when someone inadvertently talks through a question, there’ll be no way to hear it again and the bloodbath can take place while the timer ticks out on the television screen – the screams muted by the theme song and Richard Karn’s incessant chatter.

I’m not saying never play another board game with the one you love.

I’m not.

I’m just saying, when you play a board game with the one you love, you may want to have a suitcase with your essentials packed and ready by the door.

Sex-pigs.

If the term is new to you, you are not alone. I, myself, first understood the term as a reference to what farmers and drunk frat boys turn to for relief when they're feeling lonely. But alas, it seems that the more widely agreed upon definition refers to men who have a lot of different kinds of sex with a lot of different men. What seems to irk most critics, is the assumption that these men have sex without much concern about STDs, HIV or falling in love and making a commitment to a single life partner with whom they can settle down, buy a house and get a tiny dog that they can dress in stylish sweaters during the cooler months.

Evolution Publishing's SxNews recent post, Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Pig? points out that "many guys who celebrate being a gay man in this way, have a lot of skill and knowledge in negotiating the journey and take deserved pride in knowing how to keep themselves, and the men they get it on with, free from harm." So why the big fuss, not only from conservative straight folks but from many within the gay community, itself?

Haven't all of us had at least one experience, or at the minimum, a fantasy about indulging in a little sex-piggishness?

What appears to be happening, judging from the common use of the term to demonize and shame all gay men, and to some extent, anyone who enjoys sex just for the sake of sex, is that the boundaries of the definition of sex-pig are slowly expanding to include more and more of us. Hell, my own mother is a sex-pig according to some groups' definitions (and I'm not referring to that one fisting incident that you shared with me when you were drunk, Mom, because I swore then and will forever swear to keep your secret and never, never tell anyone about that.)

What's so bad about sex-pigs anyway? Some of my best friends are sex-pigs (Ron, Martin, Kevin, Ethel). Good for those folks who still approach sexuality with creativity, excitement and an appreciation of the inner workings of the digestive tract.

Bully for you, piggies.

Apparently, Kirk's got issues with what's happening in our country these days - no, not the war... no, not the media spending millions of dollars tracking a crazy lunatic who looks like the type of guy who might have molested and killed Jon Benet. No, Kirk's upset because women are making poor dating choices. Don't question how this connects with everything that's going wrong in the U.S.!... If Kirk thinks there's a connection, then there is!

In his article, Kirk outlines his "Relationship Triangle" theory. Details of the theory are a bit sparse but apparently, it has something to do with paying attention to your feelings, understanding your needs and having sex with Kirk. One gets the sense from looking at Kirk (see image below) that he's not had much physical contact in the past 6 months, nor has he had a shower.

On first read, I did find one of Kirk's statements compelling. In discussing the Jackass and Shy Guy Effects and why women choose to be with men who are mean to them, Kirk writes, "For them, it is most likely a ruse that the girl will play with herself in order for her to justify that she is the better of the two in the relationship."

The girl will play with herself?

But then I realized that's not what he meant.

In summary, Kirk's article raises three important points:

1) No one wants to date Kirk.
2) If you don't want to date Kirk, that's your problem.
3) Avoid sunlight.

It took me three days to write my profile, which turned out to be fairly boring and certainly not an accurate representation of who I am. I spent at least two sleepless nights trying to decide which books and movies would best communicate the core of my inner being. I even had a professional photograph taken so that I would have a flattering picture of myself to display on my profile page.

Since then, I've been getting into other online networking sites, including LinkedIn and MySpace.

Many of these sites offer torturous features like a community ranking system where people can vote on how cool or attractive you are, and all seem to focus on how many people are already linked to you. What does it say about me that I only have seven friends? My sister has 42 friends and one of her friend's friends has 113.

Now, I spend at least two hours a day, logging in, making sure I still look pretty enough and seeing who has viewed my profile recently.

When I see that someone has viewed me, I check out their profile to see who they are and then I wonder... what did you think when you read my profile? Why didn't you send a virtual hello? Are you working up the courage to send me a private message or did you think I was too plain? What are your friends like and are they more attractive or wittier than me? And now that I've viewed your friends' profiles, why haven't they obsessively checked to see who viewed them and then clicked on my profile to see who I am? When your friends do view my profile, will they encourage you to contact me or will you all laugh about my music interests and my failed attempts at humor behind my back?

I'm doubtful that I'll ever meet someone with whom I can have a sustained relationship with via these sites. But I'll keep logging on, trying to build my network and trying to get a ranking higher than 4. Next time you're online, log in and if you want... you can send me a friend request. I promise, I won't reject you the way that Subdeep611 apparently rejected me.

While the study claims to have controlled for other variables that may explain the differences in reported sexual behavior, questions remain about the subjective categorization of the song lyrics and about whether listening to these songs leads to sexual activity, or if research participants who became sexually active earlier, were more likely to listen to genres of music that might be sexually explicit.

Let's be frank... clearly, we're talking about lyrics in rap and hip-hop here.

Could it be that researchers failed to identify more subtle sexual innuendos or degrading descriptions of women in other genres of music? It's possible... some can be quite tricky to catch, but may be just as damaging to the teen psyche.

For example, perhaps we should no longer allow teens to listen to:

BROADWAY SHOWTUNES

"I'm a toy balloon that’s fated soon to pop... But if, baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top!"

Cole Porter's You're the Top, from De-Lovely

"If she fights when her clothes you are mussing, What are clothes? Much Ado About Nussing. If she says your behavior is heinous, kick her right in the Coriolanus. Brush up your Shakespeare and they'll all kowtow."

Cole Porter's Brush Up Your Shakespeare, from Kiss Me, Kate

"But he drew me close and he swallowed me down...down a dark slimy path where lie secrets that I never want to know."

Stephen Sondheim's I Know Things Now, from Into the Woods

COUNTRY MUSIC

"Mama, lock your daughters up, that vile bunch is back in town, and them little girls get frisky when they hear that racecar sound...They're bringing out the yellow flag; somebody's brakes have failed...Theres an oilslick on the inside and a wreck along the rail...You'd better stand on it, Stroker cause a bandit's on your tail."

Charlie Daniel's Band's Stroker's Theme

"Girl, you’ll remember what your knees are for."

Sugarland's Baby Girl

JAZZ AND BIG BAND

"You perform miracles whenever you hold me near...Tender, warm miracles that make me surrender dear, yes and when you kiss me heaven opens wide... And there you are inviting me inside."

Louis Armstrong's Fantastic, That's You

"Flat Foot Floogey with the floy floy...floy doy, floy doy, floy doy, floy doy."

Benny Goodman's, Flat Foot Floogey

And don't even get me started on CLASSIC ROCK!

The Fiat.

Their claim is that the Fiat has "the allure of the wholesome and uncomplicated."

Second place goes to the Aston Martin DBS, which Top Gear says "has a special place reserved in the heads and loins of mid-40s, early mid-life crisis men."

Third is the Maserati Quattroporte which "seduces your eyes away from your brain."

And fourth is the Chevrolet Camaro, a "creature of legend."

I find this classification fascinating, so I've decided to try my hand at it.

Below, I take a look at ten of the cars least likely to make it beyond a one-night stand. Feel free to add your own commentary or classifications to the list.

#1The Renault Clio

She's short and fat and will let you do freaky things to her, but then she'll text you 45 times a day and will get your name tattooed on her butt.

#2 Volvo Station Wagon

It was fun getting high with him and his friends at the beach, but now you've got crabs.

#3 Ford Ranger

He just got out of a bad relationship and he cried in front of you within two minutes of meeting you, but when he asked you to hold him, something just let go inside.

#4 Studebaker

You saw Harold and Maude and you thought the old broad could teach you something new. She rocked your world and if your friends wouldn't make fun of you, you'd marry her in an instant.

#5 Ford Pinto

You woke up and your wallet was gone.

#6 Unidentifiable Car

The sickest thing you've ever done.

#7 Half Car

Admit it... you've always wondered what it would be like...

#8 Ford Van

He said he'd lost his puppy and if you'd help him, he'd give you a lollipop.

#9 Acura Integra

This one definitely took you from the back.

#10 Ford Tempo

Same position every time, fell asleep immediately and ate the last of your Cookie Crisp.

The argument is not that erotic content, big boobs and sexy backstories detract from the sport of wrestling. It seems to be that too much erotic content, big boobs and sexy backstories detract from the sport of wrestling. Or that, perhaps, the erotic aspects of professional wrestling would be better received by fans if the images and storylines spoke more to their individual fantasies.

There are plenty of opportunities out there for fans who are interested in mixing sexuality with wrestling. If you like a little girl-on-girl action, check out WEW. Like it co-ed? Try Steel Kittens. Or if you're into big, hairy, naked guys putting each other in figure fours, you'll love Global Fight.

But if you, like many wrestling fans, prefer something a bit more gritty, maybe you'd find something like this more stimulating:

Announcer Earl: It's time for the event we've all been waiting for. Piggy Pete and Bulky Bob have been all over each other for years and have finally agreed to settle their differences with a naked cage match.

Announcer Fran: That's right, Earl. This is the first naked cage match since Grappling Gregory separated his scrotum in his fight to the death with Hairless Hector. This'll be a match to remember. No clothes, no rules. Just a cage and two naked, greased up guys.

Announcer Earl: And here they come!

Lights go out, gay disco anthem plays.

Announcer Fran: And Piggy Pete wastes no time. He's in the ring for 10 seconds and already he's got Bulky Bob bent over!

Announcer Earl: Aw...but watch out! Bulky Bob uses a reversal to get himself on top of Pete!... He's got his arms up under his thighs... he's pulling him over... and he's got him pinned!

Announcer Fran: It's not going to be that easy!... Pete's managed to trap Bulky Bob's elbow using his overly developed buttock muscles. He's got his face between his knees and... oh no! A Fist Flapper!!

Announcer Earl: That's right... Bulky Bob has somehow managed to draw Pete's arm into his body and he's using leverage to turn Pete onto his stomach. These two men have got to be exhausted! Surely this can't go on much longer!

Announcer Fran: What's this?... Famed tag team members - Crook, Rip and Shuffle are entering the cage. And Vixen, their big-breasted dominatrix manager is right behind them!

Announcer Earl: Looks like we've got a Gang Bang, Fran!

Announcer Fran: It's chaos! I can't tell who's doing what to whom!

Announcer Earl: Does it matter, Fran?

Announcer Fran: No, Earl... I don't think it does matter. All I know is this is one for the record books. A five man, one woman battle of nakedness!... I'm glad I don't have to clean up the ring after this one!

Announcer Earl: Ha ha! Indeed, Fran... indeed!

In response to the event, July 19th was declared the International Day of Action Against Homophobic Persecution in Iran. Many gay rights advocates have called for worldwide protests against the “murderous homophobic Iranian regime." Heart-wrenching photos of the boys' execution have been posted all over the web. The images are horrific and sad and the story is certainly provocative and worthy of outrage.

Still, one can't help but wonder about the timing of all of this. Some would argue that there's nothing coincidental about the campaign to demonize Iranians and Islamic law at a time when the Middle East is both imploding and exploding as a result of U.S. foreign policy. Is it possible that the anti-Iranian rhetoric flying around is less about homophobia and more about condoning imperialistic military actions in support of the "global war on terror?" Could it be that well-intentioned, but poorly informed, gay rights activists may be inadvertantly, or in some cases, explicitly supporting the Bush administration's push towards regime change and the occupation of Iran?

This is one story that's worth taking the time to check sources and get it right. Sure, "I hated Iran and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" is a clever slogan - but let's all agree not to jump on the anti-Iran bandwagon too prematurely. Everything we read is worthy of suspicion and remember... there are plenty of homophobic governmental policies worthy of our outrage right here at home.

Some folks like sightseeing. For me, spending a week running in the heat from one crowded tourist destination to another, reading brochures, wrestling with maps and riding on trolley tours sounds like the pits. But if that's your game, more power to you.

Some folks like cruises. All-inclusive packages mean you can eat until you barf. Drink until you barf. And spend a week on a boat, playing shuffleboard, dancing and barfing. Good times.

Some folks like camping or backpacking. I sleep in my own filthy stink at home and hate climbing the three flights of stairs to my office.

Some folks like beach vacations. Hot, sweaty, gritty. That's right up my alley.

And then there are some folks who prefer a relaxing vacation traveling to a foreign country where they can see the sights, kick up their heels and pay a seventeen-year-old native islander to be their boyfriend for the week.

Sex tourism.

As summer approaches, there are more and more news articles raising awareness about the topic, highlighting the shameful exploitation of economically vulnerable, underage women and men and calling for public outrage.

And believe me, I am outraged. But one sex tourism advertisement caught my eye in particular.

It's called the Tantric Waves Dolphin Retreat. And yes, it is what you're thinking. It's a four day, three night trip to Mozambique, during which you will stay in a tented camp and enjoy oceanic sexual energy massage, sexual meditation, tantra, learning about the art of sensuality and being sexually serviced by a dolphin.

And it's only $585 per person!

I'll let you make up your mind for yourself. But if you're into it and decide to go, let me know and maybe we can share a tent.