[To ask Tuffy Luv a question, email her at asktuffyluv@gmail.com and check back here for her response. No question is too big or small or weird or dumb! ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE (a response).]

Dear Tuffy Luv,

This is really embarassing, so I hope it’s not weird that I’m asking you.

So over the summer every summer for the last three years I work as a hostess at this restaurant near my house. And every year I’ve been there, there’s been this guy (I’ll call him T) who works there too. I go away to college, but he goes to the junior college nearby so he’s there all year.

Anyway, T and I always flirt all summer and nothing ever really happened (last summer we kissed once but it was at a party and not anything that went anywhere). Except this year, from the first day we saw each other again, it was like BAM–chemistry. So we hooked up a couple of times and it was great.

My problem is, last night, I went over to his place after work and I thought we were just going to hook up like usual, but then–I don’t even know how to say this without being gross, so here it is: he peed on me.

I was totally disgusted, but I was really surprised so I didn’t say anything and we just had sex anyway and then I went home.

What the hell?! Also, have I now given him permission to do it again since I didn’t say anything? Help!!!!!!!!

-I Got Peed On Read More »

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So I’ve got this issue, and I wonder if it’s just a me issue (I tend to have a lot of those), or more widespread.

A couple of times a week, I work at this real fancy office. All high rise, and gold leafing, and Prada shoe stores on the bottom floor. I mean, I had to go shopping for clothes just to feel non-stupid walking into this building. It’s fancy. Midtown New York. Sometimes I even think I see famous people walking the hallways…but I think anyone in a well-pressed suit or 4 inch heels is famous.

Anyway, the fanciness of the building is not my issue. The issue is that in the office where I work, there is only one bathroom. And this bathroom is off a small hallway that is right off of the main receptionist’s (except it’s a guy. Do you call a guy a receptionist?) desk.

Now, I have not been at this place very long, and I’m pretty sure most people still don’t know my name. The point being, it’s not an unfriendly atmosphere, but I’m not exactly walking around in slippers and talking about recent (or non-recent, as is more likely) sexual exploits around the water cooler.

So like, when I have to pee–or, even worse, more than pee–I feel radically uncomfortable and totally talk myself out of using the bathroom until A) I can’t deny my body any longer or B) the day ends and I can rush home and lock the door behind me. Read More »

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