Embracing Goths And Schizos
No personality or too much

Has sex become a big fucking bore? Are you considering drastic measures to reinvigorate your libido as it suffers from pre-millennial stress? Lydia understands. You need an injection of Tough Love.

See also...
... by Lydia Lunch
... in the Crave section
... from October 28, 1999

Dear Lydia,

My partner has lots of energy -- too much, in fact. It's what initially attracted me to her, but now it just annoys me, especially in bed. It's like screwing an overheated jackal. In actuality, I prefer to have sex with her while she's sleeping. I'm not sure she knows I'm doing it. I'd be much more turned on if she played dead. Literally. Her eyes closed, silent, not moving and not responding. I get turned on thinking of her body temperature dropping as she lies in a satin sheet resembling the inside of a casket. Am I turning into a corpse grinder?


I Love the Dead

Dear Dead,

Necrophilia is as old as death itself. It must be hard to resist a lifeless body laid out supine and submissive, silent blue lips which no amount of slobbering will warm, a flesh toy which suggests stolen and illicit pleasure. If your present squeeze won't go for the necessary ice baths and silent treatments, any number of Goth chicks would love a graveyard picnic under a moonlit midnight. If nothing else, she'll feign boredom, which borders on death.

Dear Lydia,

Every time I have a date with my latest fling, he comes disguised as someone else. I never know who's going to show up at the door. It's like every day is Halloween. And it's not just costumes; it's accents, facial hair, mannerisms, and sexual techniques. Sometimes he screws me silly, invents positions I've never even imagined, has the staying power of a racehorse and the equipment to match. The next time I see him, he loses it in his pants after our first kiss. I'm frightened there is no "real" him and that he might show up as Freddy Krueger mistaking my apartment for the Bates Motel. Should I be scared?


Mystery Date

Dear Mystery,

So maybe he's a little schizophrenic; consider it a blessing. Your own living wax museum. At least he's creative. Try steering him toward the characters you prefer, and unleash your fantasies. Drop your expectations. It may be unpredictable, but it beats the shit out of trying to amuse yourself with the typical monosyllabic dirthead or weekend beer farmer.

Lydia Lunch is a confrontational media-manipulator who has explored and exploited the written and spoken word, music, film, video, theatre, photography and sculpture. She is notorious for practicing public psychotherapy for the past two decades in an attempt to dissect the origin of obsessions.