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Savage Love: Kinky kid

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Start that frank conversation by reassuring your stepson that you love him. Tell him that most humans are a little bit perverted—that’s what Bering’s new book is about—but our kinks are private, and you’re only talking to him about his thing for diapers because he hasn’t been very successful at keeping it private. Then cut him a deal: If he makes an effort to discreetly dispose of any diapers he soils, you won’t go looking for them and you’ll keep your mouth shut if you find one or two in the bottom of the trash bin out back.

“On the theft problem,” said Bering, “a 14-year-old diaper fetishist can’t just run to the store to buy erotic supplies out of his own paycheck. So let him earn enough money to buy a few pairs of pull-ups here and there by doing chores around the house. And while the stealing is definitely worrisome, it does provide a convenient, less awkward way for you to address the fetishism issue. Stealing from the neighbors is the main reason, you can tell your stepson, that you’ve decided to bring him to see a therapist. A good psychologist can then explore the reasons for his kleptomania and lend a sympathetic and nonparental ear for him to talk openly about any taboo feelings.”

Bering’s new book, Perv: The Sexual Deviant in All of Us, will be released October 8, but it can (and should!) be preordered now. Follow him on Twitter—@jessebering—to read his highly entertaining #DailyDeviant posts.

I’m a 19-year-old male college student. I lost two and a half fingers on my right hand in an accident when I was 13. I am otherwise good-looking and in shape—but what does that matter? A counselor once told me, “A true lady of class will love you for who you are.” I have never wanted to punch someone so hard. Bullshit. I don’t want to listen to politically correct “feel-good” crap. I’m disfigured, not stupid. Children fear me! And what sort of woman would look at me with desire when whole men can be found everywhere? Don’t tell me to go to counseling. I go to counseling. Do not give me the link to some useless “support” group’s website. What is there to do? How could I possibly approach a woman with confidence?
Don’t Insult My Intelligence

Here’s something you can do: Get the fuck over yourself.

I know that’s harsh, DIMI, but I’m thinking harsh is what you came to me for. If it isn’t—if what you wanted was more ladies-of-class bullshit with a side of warm and syrupy sympathy—then you might wanna skip the rest of my response.

Look, motherfucker, there are people out there with missing limbs, who were badly burned in fires, with disfiguring birth defects. One day volunteering in a burn ward or at Walter Reed might help you put your mangled hand in some sort of perspective. Because it could be worse. And burn victims and people with missing limbs and people with birth defects? Lots and lots of them are out there dating and getting laid and finding partners despite the cruel looks they sometimes get from thoughtless children.

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