Savage Love

We would, of course, ask potential thirds to get tested (and get tested ourselves), but I don't want to feel like I'm gambling with my health when we do this. How do I get the edgy sex life I want?

Suddenly Kinky And Really Eager

The only way to get the edgy sex life you want, SKARE, is to accept that edgy sex lives always involve a certain degree of risk. IUDs do not provide STI protection—nor do birth control pills, diaphragms, or having your tubes tied. And while condoms, when used correctly, offer excellent protection from the two scariest sexually transmitted infections out there—HIV and pregnancy—condoms only reduce your risk of acquiring gonorrhea, syphilis, chlamydia, HPV, herpes, and other STIs.

I'm sorry, SKARE, but there's no such thing as risk-free sex. Hell, there's no such thing as risk-free anything. Hamburgers, snowboarding, sex—all risky activities. Okay, class: A life without hamburgers, snowboarding, and sex is what? A life that's hardly worth living, Mr. Savage. So what do we do? We take reasonable steps to reduce our risks. We cook our burgers thoroughly (or, better yet, buy beef that isn't packed with hormones, antibiotics, and E. coli); we stay in designated ski areas and/or wear avalanche beacons; we try to be selective about our sex partners and use condoms when appropriate. And we then play the odds, SKARE; we gamble. Burgers, boarding, sex—if we've taken reasonable precautions, the odds are in our favor.

So, SKARE, here's what you do: Accept that acting on your fantasies—your cuckquean fantasies (only men can be cuckolds)—involves risk for you, for your boyfriend, and for your thirds. Then set about minimizing 'em. Be choosy about who you take to bed. (Someone you know, like, and trust? Yes. Amy Winehouse? No.) Use protection. (The boyfriend should use condoms with these other women.) And be vigilant about your health. (Regular checkups, STI screenings, pap smears, etc.)

And finally, SKARE, you have to accept that, even if you're doing everything "right," there's still a chance that you may contract an STI; perhaps something annoying but curable (gonorrhea, pregnancy), something incurable but bearable (herpes), or something incurable and devastating (HIV). If you can't handle the reality of contracting a sexually transmitted infection, SKARE, then you don't just have a monogamist's device in your twat, but a monogamist's twat in your pants.

I'm a twentysomething female and I've had a fair number of partners. My boyfriend of two years has only ever slept with me. Recently, we opened up our relationship because I have a much higher sex drive. It was good—I was happy; the boy wasn't jealous. And then something happened. Well, I caused something to happen.

My boyfriend now has herpes. Obviously I've got it, too, even if I'm not showing any symptoms. We didn't prepare emotionally for the potential consequences of my actions. So here we are. He's angry with me for putting him in danger and I feel like getting hit by a bus. We know herpes is not so bad. We also know that these feelings of guilt, anger, and disgust will fade, but how do we get to that point?

Hating Every Revolting Pestilent Execrable Second

You agreed as a couple to open your relationship up, HERPES, which makes him 50 percent responsible for the "danger" he was in. And if you neglected to talk through the potential negative consequences of an open relationship, HERPES, then you failed to do your due diligence—you both failed.

So what do you do now? After giving each other a little time and space, HERPES, you ought to invest a little dough in a sex-positive couples' counselor. Find someone who can skillfully facilitate a couple of conversations about your relationship. One topic you might want to touch on: You could have picked the virus up from one of the partners you had before you met your current boyfriend.