Tits and Ask: Kinky-cute, or Perverted-perp?

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DEAR KEN AND ARIEL: What is the distinction between “Kinky” and “Perverted”? Is there a line? Have either of you crossed that line? What was the kinkiest thing you’ve done, and what’s the most perverted thing you’ve done? Can you ever go back to “Kinky” once the “Perv” line is crossed? Just curious.

Ariel Says: I believe there was a time when “kinky” and “perverted” meant the same thing. You know, when Leave it to Beaver actually referred to a TV show and “making love” meant whispering sweet nothings a chaste four inches from your lover’s ear. Now, in our cynical, desensitized society, kinky means the brightly lit, Disney-esque Hustler store on Sunset, and perverted means you’ll be busted shortly on Dateline NBC’s “To Catch a Predator” segment. So, no, I haven’t crossed that line, and I ain’t touching “perverted” (or a pervert, for that matter) with a ten-foot pole. But I’ll be happy to expound on “kinky.” Let’s see, there was the time I had sex on the roof of the Hyatt and the hot wax spilled on the tar shingles and I had sticky black gunk stuck to my ass for weeks. Or the time I insisted that my boyfriend call me “Alice” and I called him “Mel” and he chased me with his spatula. Or the time me and an entire cadre of former professional cheerleaders decided to re-enact Apocalypse Now wearing nothing but lace bobby socks and strategically-placed “Support our Troops” ribbons… all quite normal, really. By the way, to answer your last question: Hell-to-the-N-O.

Ken Says: I don’t know if anyone will ever agree to what “kinky” and “perverted” entail, but here’s my take. The term “kinky” tends to evoke experimentalism; for example, the use of handcuffs or roleplaying (“the cop and the cocaine-fueled hooker” is a good one) or fifty metric tons of Scotts Anti-Weed Fertilizer to liven things up in the bedroom. “Perverted,” on the other hand, seems a bit more deep-rooted. Like only desiring women who look like your Aunt Bessie or insisting that the only way sex works for you is if it takes place in a twelve-foot fiberglass tank filled with grape soda and electric eels. But, as with so much in life, these things can be so personalized and unique that your chances of finding anyone who, say, shares your affinity for dressing up as a Minnesota Vikings cheerleader and pressing your balls in a waffle iron are pretty unlikely. I once dated a girl who got off on straddling my face with her pants on, then asking me to “chew” my way to Glory Road. Needless to say, the idea of eating a pair of pants wasn’t quite what I had in mind at the start of the evening, so things unraveled pretty quickly. All I can really give you in this department is the following handy tip: If a girl takes you back to her place and insists that her two roommates join in, that’s kinky. If one of those roommates is a wild boar or Jim Belushi, that’s perverted.

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