The AIDS virus isn’t fire and gay men aren’t twigs; it doesn’t matter how vigorously you rub us against each other, we’re not going to suddenly burst into HIV.

The following is a special Web supplement to Dan Savage’s regular column. Users are reminded that any links below are independent from Vancouver Free Press Publishing Corporation, and we do not endorse, control, or make any representations, warranties, or conditions concerning their contents or links.

Dan Savage takes questions on marriage from a geezer in love and a woman with a lonely ring finger, and helps out a girlfriend who’s just looking for a little light bondage.

The coming of fuckbots is going to make fantasies that are currently unrealizable for reasons of biology, logistics, or morality suddenly very, very realizable.

Hey, everybody: If you missed last week’s column, I’m taking a week off because, well, go read last week’s column if you care to know. Here’s an old column to tide you over.

Dan Savage struggles to write a column and finds a fitting space among the escort ads to eulogize his mother.

Dan Savage addresses a husband threatened by a lesbian, a woman concerned for a freaked boyfriend, and divorcee looking for the next Mr. Right.

The following is a special Web supplement to Dan Savage’s regular column. Users are reminded that any links below are independent from Vancouver Free Press Publishing Corporation, and we do not endorse, control, or make any representations, warranties, or conditions concerning their contents or links.

Regular Savage Love readers are schooled in the art of spotting bullshit letters. So here’s the letter, kids—let’s see if you can spot the clues.

Your column about coming out was insightful, funny, and very moving. You tackled hard questions and provided some of the best answers I’ve ever heard to them.

Dan Savage on surgery scars and his Real Time misunderstanding.

Dan Savage takes questions from the young, gay, and restless.

Open marriages work, but only sometimes—just like, um, what are those other things that only work sometimes called again? Oh, right: closed marriages.

At first glance, I am the guy your mother wants you to marry: successful, sweet, clean-shaven. Below the surface, I am the guy your mother warned you about: pierced tongue, tattoos, and enough kinks to make a porn star blush. A couple of months ago, I met a woman who wanted to be a sex slave.

Readers respond to Dan's recent column regarding the illegality of vibrators in some states.