Another relationship-advice columnist tackles furries. This time, in the Colorado Daily, where columnist Christy Fantz demonstrates her lack of knowledge about furries:
D ear Christy,
I didn't find out until recently that my boyfriend is a furry -- you know, those people who like to dress up like cute animals that talk. The only problem is, he wants to do it all the time like that. I am really tired of harnessing him up and riding the bad pony. What should I do?
Don't get fuzzy:
Let's explore said furry.
Mascot? Beanie Baby? Gorilla suit? My Little Pony? Ronald McDonald? (He's kinda furry. I hear he doesn't groom his manjunk.)
My curiosity sparks an instance: If your man dons a Chip suit (Buff mascot), we'd all totally nail him. (He won back-to-back mascot of the year awards, who wouldn't?)
But, if he's prancing around with wang-hang in an armadillo, we'll pass.
Most of us won't much comprehend this peculiar fetish, but we let those fuzzy freaks fly.
However, if he just recently told you about this obsession, then he's kinda fired. He should have disclosed this earlier.
Of course, however, who wants to admit this fetish to a layperson?
"Hi, my name is Todd. I like dive bars, Colorado beer and bending my girlfriend over after slipping into a turtle suit."
It's like admitting your sexual fanaticism for semi trucks. (We get it. They're long. And strong. And down to get the friction on. Props, Sir Mix-a-Lot.)
Don't furries have a sex camp or something? I thought I saw a "Real Sex" thing on HBO one time where all that hair convened into a chorus of zoo noises.
Now, I can see porking your piggy on occasion, but if he can't ride you like a well-groomed prostitute, then toss him.
He may get to the point where he can't even perform outside of the suit. Get out of there before he starts sniffing your canine's ass.
(I wonder how many mascots don parfum de body fluids? Dry cleaning time.)