Crystal is always here (except when she’s being a cougar about town, showing the young women of today how to grind up against the guys) to help answer your problems. Our agony aunt-cum-psychic knows best when it comes to problems…
I’ve been in a long-term relationship with my boyfriend Roy for the last five years. He’s loving, intelligent and honest, but he has one slightly unusual characteristic – he’s a dendrophiliac. To put it another way, he gets sexually aroused by trees. He was very open about it with me from day one, and it was never an issue until his 30th birthday about a year ago. As it was a special birthday, I told him I’d let him fulfil whatever sexual desire he wanted. He thought about it for some weeks, then nervously asked if we could fly to Canada because he’s always wanted to watch me having sex with a Giant Redwood.
Naturally, I was taken aback, but as it was a one-time-only deal and pretty harmless (if weird) I agreed.
I won’t go into details, but let’s just say we found a Redwood with a perfectly placed little protrusion and the rest is history. The trouble is, that Redwood satisfied me in ways Roy never has and I was constantly fantasising about it wrapping me up in its big strong branches and having its way with me. In the end, I secretly booked a flight to Canada for a weekend and had sex with it again. I felt so guilty cheating on Roy, but I was powerless to resist the tree’s woody charms, and the affair continued for another six months.
By this time, my sex life with Roy was non-existent and we were growing further and further apart. Then, one day, I came home from work early and found him in bed with two young birch saplings–neither of which could have been more than
16 years old. I was furious with him, but then he broke down and said he’d only done it because he’d opened my phone one day and found out I’d been sexting the Giant Redwood.
We both began to cry and vowed to give our relationship another try – but I just wonder if too much has happened for us to ever be the same again?
Thanks for your letter. I’ll be honest, your relationship is f**ked. How can you ever trust each other again knowing the other one might be at home banging a chest of drawers made from a particularly nice piece of oak while you’re at work. Still, if shagging inanimate objects is your thing you should go out with Boris Johnson. I made the mistake of banging him the night he got elected as Mayor of London. Let’s just say it’s not Europe he should be pulling out of. He’s hung like a button mushroom.