Tits ‘n’ Ask: Are We Screwing or Making Love?

The top hat makes the difference.

Dear Ken & Ariel: What’s your take on the difference between fucking and “making love”? Do you ever ask someone to “make love to me”? And is it possible to “make love” anally? My girlfriend says no, as it’s a more raunchy, submissive act.

Ken Says: Better people than me have dedicated years to determining the precise moment when “fucking” segues to “making love.” During the ’50s, in fact, President Eisenhower commissioned an entire think-tank to this very topic. Their conclusion, after a decade of studies, was just four words: “both are incredibly awesome.”

That said there is a discernible difference. For example, if I ask a woman to sit on my face while wearing pajama jeans for a half-hour while I stroke myself, you can rest assured that before night’s end, we’ll be fucking. On the other hand, if I show up at her apartment wearing ass-less chaps and a top hat and monocle, we’ll be making love. The top hat is the difference maker, really. You may just want to use a discreet rubber band to keep it firmly on your head while thrusting. The Abe Lincoln beard is optional but if you’re going to go all the way with this, you might as well do it right.

As to whether it’s possible to make love anally, I say yes. Because–and it’s important to remember this–the raunchiest and most submissive act of all isn’t anal. It’s reaching for your wallet right after orgasm.

Ariel Says: Aww, sweetie. I could give you a three word answer to your question about the difference between fucking and making love: “you just know.” But this isn’t Lifetime or a Rom-Com and you came to us, a coupla knuckleheads, to ask this very important question, so we’ll do our best to answer it, no angsty indie or croony Michael Bubl√© track included.

I would say the key ingredient between the two action verbs is not during, but after. If the phrase “GTFO” hovers upon your lips as soon as you achieve orgasm, if you wake up the next day, look over, and groan, or your list of chores suddenly seem like a good way to spend a Sunday morning, chances are you haven’t made love. But then again! Life is rarely in absolutes; you could seriously enjoy a right good shagging and would be thrilled to have a repeat performance, again and again and again. But a fuck buddy doesn’t have as long of a shelf life as a lover. In other words, yeah, you may not kick her out of bed, but would you like her to be in that bed for-eva? (Let me hasten to add, in a “I’m so in love with you” way, not a “Misery-bash-the-ankles-so-you-cannot-walk” kind of way.)

As to whether or not your anus is capable of love-making, I say HELLZ YES. Lovemaking is not some gauzy, sepia-toned, missionary-style montage of sweet murmurs, inaudible gasps and sexy O-faces. It is messy, it is deviant, it is tears and sweat, and sometimes blood and other bodily fluids make a surprise appearance, and the room gets trashed and the police are called and trapezes fall from the ceiling and the Plushie costumes have to get sent to the cleaners. Passion takes many forms; the dirtier, the better. But! I will say, I have found, when making love, my lover’s pleasure and making him feel as good as possible is paramount. Making love is a selfless act; and when both partners use this same approach, nirvana is achieved. Or at the very least, you both have shit-eating grins for weeks.

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