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I’m a 37-year-old gay man who just got out of an abusive relationship. We were together five years, moved to Portland together, got married three years ago, yada, yada, yada. He suffered a traumatic injury earlier this year, which led to PTSD, which led to a nervous breakdown, which led to our savings being depleted, which led him to leave me in October. He moved back to the other side of the country, and I’m broke and on my own in a strange city.

Gray whales are headed south this month and most of next month, led by females keen on giving birth in warm lagoons along the coast of Baja California, Mexico. Whale watching is not as good as during northward migration in spring, when whales move more slowly and closer to shore. But more whales per hour pass Oregon points in winter than in spring. Seeing whales is almost guaranteed. Looking from a high vantage point helps. The West Shelter close to the observation lookout at the top of the St. Perpetua Trail in the Cape Perpetua Scenic Area is an excellent spot.

My boyfriend of almost two years is wonderful, and we have had very few issues. But there is one thing that has almost been a deal breaker. He fiddles with his penis almost constantly—in front of me and in front of our roommates. I’ve confronted him about it a number of times. He said he should be able to fiddle with his dick in every room of the house if he wants to and he should feel comfortable doing so. I told him that he is being “comfortable” at the expense of the comfort of those around him.

As EW readers continue to regain balance after the presidential election, we want to reflect on two education-related measures: Measure 97, the tax on large corporations, and Measure 98, the high school graduation initiative.

Each year in November I’ve come to expect

That I’ll stop and take time to tune in and reflect

On the myriad reasons I’m grateful this year

And give thanks for how lucky I am to be here

I’m a very sex-positive girl and I finally convinced my boyfriend to open up about his fetishes. I could tell he was ashamed and torn about sharing them with me, but I’ve been with my fair share of guys and surfed the net for years, and I was convinced nothing would shock me. Well, it turns out he’s into soft vore. I’m not gonna lie, I was a bit put off, but of course I didn’t tell him. I started looking for information about his fetish, and it’s not as uncommon as I thought.

It may seem strange to suggest that the path to peace is to roll up our sleeves and get our hands dirty regenerating the soil in our gardens and around the world. But this is more than a metaphor suggesting that building peace is like growing a healthy garden. 

The wars we fight, the deplorable state of public health and the surpassing of planetary limits leading to climate change can all be traced back to how we grow our food and view the earth as a resource base to be turned into commodities for consumption.

I’m a longtime fan—reader and listener—and part of the 47 percent of white women who did NOT vote for Donald Trump. To say I’m disappointed, horrified, scared, and mad about the election is woefully insufficient. I donated $100 to Planned Parenthood this morning because I honestly felt like there was nothing else I could do. That being said, I wanted to share that I had one of the most weirdly charged, hottest, and sexiest orgasms. A little buzzed (dealing with those election results) and sad, my boyfriend and I turned to each other for consolation.

Homelessness and impoverishment are not law enforcement problems and cannot be mitigated by police actions. The Eugene City Council needs to stop dithering and being paralyzed by NIMBY trolls who could not care less that housing is a human right. 

When the rainy season begins as usual in the Willamette Valley, at the beginning of October, all is well with the world. This year the rains came in a series of unusually powerful storms, delivering almost twice its average monthly rainfall in the first two weeks. The wind accompanying the storms took down many trees, especially near the coast. 

What’s your “social imaginary”? In other words, as the Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor defines it in his 2007 work Modern Social Imaginaries, how do you imagine your social existence, how do you fit together with others — including the natural environment, I would add — and how do you imagine things going on between you and others, the expectations normally met and the deeper ethical ideas and images that underpin those expectations?

For the past century, Planned Parenthood has transformed sexual and reproductive health and empowered millions of people worldwide to make informed health decisions — forever changing the way they live, love, learn and work. To commemorate our centennial, we are kicking off #100YearsStrong, a yearlong effort of acting, sharing and celebrating the progress Planned Parenthood has championed for women and families over the past 100 years.

I’m a 41-year-old male who looks like the tall, strong, professional, alpha-male type on the outside. On the inside, though, I would like to find a strong, confident woman who wants a cuckolding relationship—she sleeps with other men, while I am faithful and submissive to her. There must be women out there who would love to have a loving, doting boyfriend or husband waiting at home while they go out with other men, but I tend to attract women who want the alpha-male type. What can I do to find—or attract—the kind of woman I’m interested in?

Ward 1 voters need to know the truth about the two run-off candidates, Emily Semple and Josh Skov. To do so, they should consider an objective and truthful comparison of where the candidates stand on several key issues.

As you know, dear readers, the Hot Air Society is not only a social drinking club; we are also a 527 Super-PAC. We secretly authorized the distribution of Samsung Galaxy Note 7 smartphones to the Donald Trump, Bud Pierce, Art Robinson and Dennis Richardson campaigns. The incendiary phone has been blamed for one house fire, a burning Jeep and several alarming moments on airplanes. We felt it was the least we could do for them.

I love my wife, but I have a lot of resentment, disappointment, and insecurity over our sex life. After four years of marriage, huge angst remains that I have yet to get a handle on. Right now, with kids and our busy lives, she’s content with sex once a week or so, and I need relief pretty much every night to help with my insomnia. What’s more, I really don’t enjoy porn at all, but if we aren’t having intercourse, there’s pretty much no other way for me to get off.

In the last week of September, we passed right by 400 ppm (parts per million) of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, a major milestone on our way to climate disruption. It’s alarming given all that’s at stake, but we have available to us now all the solutions that we need to dramatically reduce emissions and secure a livable future for us, our children and our grandchildren. 

As we approach Election Day, we are being faced with historic decisions. The results of the presidential race will have consequences beyond the next four years. Here in Oregon, voters will have a chance to influence the future of generations of children, the elderly and people with health needs. Measure 97, which would tax the largest corporations doing more than $25 million in business in Oregon, could reverse the trend of the last 25 years of disinvestment in schools, seniors and health care programs in our state.

As Benton County prepares to vote on whether to adopt ranked-choice voting for county elections, Oregonians are presented an opportunity to explore different voting systems. Ranked-choice voting has the most political traction right now, but it's only one of several alternatives.

Waiting to pay for my groceries at the market this evening, this guy, stinking of booze, says to my 9-year-old daughter, “Sweetheart, can you put the divider thing there for me?” First, why is some leering grown man calling my child “sweetheart”? He then thumps two huge bottles of vodka down on the belt. I move closer to my daughter; he then reaches his hand over me and wraps his hand around her arm, saying, “Now, you be nice to your Mommy, sweetie.” I pluck his hand off. “Do not touch my child,” I say.

In January 2013, I was roofied and raped at a fraternity while I was a student at the University of Oregon. The Sunday before the first day of my last winter term at the UO, I woke up naked with a man I had never wanted to be naked with, the night flooding back to me as I tried to find my clothes and leave. 

Sooner or later it happens. You write or say something and then you have to come clean and admit that you just got it wrong. In “The $7 million giveaway” I argued that our local officials got little or nothing in return for extending the enterprise zone benefits for Broadcom an additional two years.

Two things happen in Oregon in even-numbered years. We hold a general election, and invasive alien biennial weed species (Lawnsignicus obnoxicus) appear in the Willamette Valley. These weeds first blossomed near Creswell on a local site known as Idiot Hill, for some reason. Suddenly there they were, crowded into their limited ecological niche, a dairy farm. They apparently thrive in cow poop. Four signs of the time: Trump/Pierce/Robinson/Richardson all held up by the same wooden stakes. Birds of a feather flock together.