What’s the protocol for inserting yourself into your partner?

What’s the protocol for inserting yourself into your partner? Do you do it? Does she?
I wouldn’t worry too much. What ever you might lack in skill you more than make up for in weirdness. Protocol dictates that rank precedes gender, so if your intended holds a title higher than American Apparel sales associate, simply say, “Madam Chancellor, may I present My Erection?” to which she will reply, “How do you do?” Attendees then rise for the national anthem, Senator Feinstein makes opening remarks, there is a canon salute, and Aaron Neville sings “Amazing Grace.” Then, and only then, can insertion commence. At least that’s how they do it where I come from. However, Robert J. Rubel, author of the indispensable Master/ Slave Relations: Handbook of Theory and Practice, as well as 2007s Squirms, Screams and Squirts: Going from Great Sex to Extraordinary Sex (because the title A Dance to the Music of Time was already taken), disagrees. He confirms your fear about implied incompetence and calls you a “submissive man,” a charge you’ll have to just sit there and take, I’m afraid. “I’ve never had a woman guide me in initially,” he scoffs, before defining the core problem. “Here’s the core problem: Anything that you do to pull the woman back into her head will destroy the moment. Don’t ask her anything, don’t do anything that she has to think about, don’t confuse her.” He’s absolutely right. I was about to say something about the futility of rules with regard to the passionate acts of willing adults, but I’ve already forgotten the question.
I’m a little puzzled. I know sexual preferences change, but things that used to get me off just repulse me now. What’s going on?
Your use of the word repulse has caused no end of distress for Joy Davidson, Manhatan sex therapist and author of the book Fearless Sex. She says that while sexual taste commonly changes over time, one does not generally find oneself “repulsed” by what one used to like. “Unless we’re talking about somebody who, for example, wasn’t acknowledging their attraction to the same gender.” Really, what kind of guy is that? “You know, a guy who had never acknowledged or had tried to repress his attraction to men, so he had sex with women, and it was enjoyable to a point, but then as time wore on he…really began seeing himself as gay… and now the idea of being with a woman is repulsive.” Well, well. I considered surreptitiously altering the problematic word and continuing with the “changing sexual tastes” theme, when I noticed that you chose to modify your statement with the word just, a synonym for “simply.” Therefore, we may recast your sentiment as”…things that used to get me off simply repulse me now.” I believe that your keen
choice of this third adverbial definition of just (as opposed to “I’ve just realized I’m gay”) merely expresses your healthy dramatic flair, which everyone in the Castro already warned me about.
Why do I always have to urinate so badly after sex? Why do I always have to call my mother? Why do other people always have to fall to their knees and repent? Just normal biological functions, that’s all. Come, let’s take a look at your bladder with Dr. Pamela Ellsworth, urologist and author of The Little Black Book of Urology. “We typically have a sensation to urinate around 150cc,” she says, “and it is possible that one didn’t reach that volume prior to sex and reaches it thereafter.” We may also note that alcohol and caffeine are diuretics, so that ocean of Diet Coke and rum you continually guzzle, compounded with elapsed time and the sheer physical pressure your bladder withstands during sex may all contribute to this plaguing urge to urinate. But could there be a psychological component here as well? If you insist. Your newfound obsession with urinary habits could be contributing to a self-fulfilling practice that Masters and Johnson called “spectatoring,” because they couldn’t, between the two of them, come up with the correct word, spectating, which is an inflective form of spectate and means to be a spectator, especially at a sporting event. The sporting event in this case is your own sex life, which is tanking because you’re spending the whole game thinking about the toilet. Never take your eye off the ball.