Alvear - Men are pigs, but we love bacon: not-so-straight answers from Americas most outrageous gay sex columnist

Great things can come from someone saying no. This book is a testament to that. Three years ago Dan Savages syndicator told the publisher of a gay entertainment magazine that he would not sell the gay authors column to gay newspapers. Hows that for irony?

The editor was Chris Crain, the visionary editorial director of Window Media, the largest chain of gay newspapers. Chris called me up one day and said, I want you to write about sex.

Fine, I responded. Send me your cutest employees and Ill get started.

So, my first thank you is to Dan Savages syndicator. The second goes to Chris Crain, not just for making the columnand therefore this bookpossible, but also for standing up to enormous pressure from easily-offended gay schoolmarms to pull the column on account that it made so much fun of easily-offended schoolmarms.

Id also like to thank my distinguished and often sober panel of experts, starting with Richard Banconi, MSW. His warped yet flawless logic (beauty is only a light-switch away) significantly affected the way I wrote the column.

Shouts also go out to Brad Thomason, Ph.D., who was literally my psychologist-in-residence. We lived together as boyfriends for the first two years that I wrote the column. I depended on him to give me the clinical view of my psycho readers and for that I thank him. And also because he let me steal his best lines. Like the title of this book. It was his response to a friend wondering how he could have dated me.

Id also like to thank the three board-certified family practice physicians who made themselves available for my impertinent questions: Jim Braude, M.D., the funny, fresh-faced scion of the busiest gay practice in the southeast. Manuel Patino, M.D., my own personal physician. If I had his bedside manner, Id be too busy fucking to write this book. And finally, the bright and beautiful Kris Johnson, M.D., a hottie doc if you ever saw one. Thanks guys for making me sound like I knew what I was talking about.

Lastly, Id like to thank Dan Savage, the master of the rip-and-chew advice column. No, Dan, youre not imagining it. My column is a complete rip-off of yours.

If youre looking for warmth and compassion, youve picked up the wrong book. Try Chicken Soup for the Cock; its three aisles over.

This is a sex advice book with fangs. Its a collection of columns appearing in over twenty gay newspapers under the title Need Wood? Tips for Getting Timber.

Throughout the four years Ive been writing the column Ive managed to ENRAGE just about every gay group in existence. Theres a reason for that. I make fun of people who arent used to being made fun of, Im judgmental as hell, I leer (if its possible to leer in print), and I brag a lot.

Oh, and I give accurate medical advice.

Thats what enrages critics the most, I think. Yanking threads off the fabric of gay piety would be one thing, but I do more than that. Thanks to my panel of board-certified physicians, therapists, and psychologists I club my politically correct victims with medical facts, not just common sense. And if theres one thing the easily offended hate, its being clubbed with common sense.

I write this column the way men talk about sexbrutally, with a sense of entitlement, and a breathtaking gift for the gratuitous insult. Sound familiar? Its you and your friends at brunch.

When the column first started, almost no one knew what to make of it. Gay sex advice, when its published at all, has that kind of everyone-is-beautiful-in-his-own-way and isnt-it-all-wonderful kumbayah hogwash that makes even the biggest dick pigs cough up what they shouldnt be swallowing in the first place.

At first, it was hard to get papers to carry Need Wood?". Its too controversial, said one editor, worried about all the headaches that come with controversy. Cant you tone it down? Well, no. I offered to throw in a years supply of Advil and a bottle of Insta-Spine, but he declined. Years later, the column became one of the most successful syndicated properties in the gay press.

If youre wondering why every letter addresses me as Woody when my name is Michael, its because youve never heard of Eppie Lederer, may she rest in peace. She was known in many circles as Ann Landers. I write the column under the pseudonym Woody because hell hath no fury like a gay man dissed. I just didnt want to be the victim of a drive-by doiling.

But with this book, Im throwing caution to the wind the way my readers throw their legs in the airwith wild abandon. Now everyone will have a shot at boiling my pets in an exquisite tarragon, rose petal and saffron demi-glace, with pecan-crusted hearts of palm and a delicate mint-fennel sauce.

You wont really learn how to be a better lay with this book. I mean, theres plenty on techniques but thats not the point of the book. The point is to show the real struggles, the real problems, and our real behavior (or rather misbehavior) in the face of our all-consuming desire.

In other words, this isnt a manual; its theater.

From the inane to the insane, from the sad to the bad, from the ingratiating to the infuriating, the questions and answers in this book will leave you laughing, crying, and sometimes spitting nails.

Many of the questions come from guys who are not out to their doctors, making honesty and forthrightness a scarce commodity during office visits. Theyre also too embarrassed to ask their friends, particularly if its a painful and potentially shaming problem like having a small penis or being HIV positive.

The letters give you a voyeuristic glimpse of other peoples sex lives. The questions tend to run a lot longer than those in other advice columns because, in my humble opinion, the questions are often more interesting than the answers.

I said often not always. Give me some credit, for Chrissakes.