Q What are the rules for revealing to your partner that you use Viagra? A few months ago, I started going with a girl, and our first night in the sack was pathetically limp-dicked, so after many years of frustration I decided to use the little blue pill. I must say I am very pleased with the results, and so is she. But I never had the nerve to tell her. Since then our relationship has grown, and I think she is the most wonderful woman in the world and I don’t want to lose her. Must I reveal this secret? Will she feel deceived? At what point in a relationship must each side reveal all? I would tell the truth if asked directly, but frankly hope she never asks. What does the sexpert say?

A The sexpert says, “C’mon, dude, you’ve got to be shitting me with this question, right?” Let’s take this scenario to the extreme, shall we? Do you seriously intend to keep popping the little blue pill for the rest of your life and never find the occasion to tell your wife (FYI: You get married in a nice little outdoor ceremony just outside of Sheboygan, Wisconsin) what she has to thank for that rigid orgasm inducer between her legs? I realize this answer has been made up entirely of questions so far but I’m too worked up to stop now, so I ask you, why do people create such senseless dramas in their lives? Imagine this: Instead of keeping a stupid secret from someone you care about, what if you actually took the opportunity to make yourself open and vulnerable to her by telling her the truth? Just think how cute she’ll think you are for worrying about her reaction to such a superficial factoid. Seriously, dude. Just fess up. As a strange side note: For some reason I’m being stalked by strangers’ erections this week. Yesterday I was on the subway and across from me sat this teenage couple doing a little innocent smooching and groping. I was reading, ironically, a Poetry in Motion entry titled “O Tell Me the Truth About Love,” when the couple stood up to exit and there, right in front of my face, the teenage dude was pitching a major tent in his gym shorts. The weird thing was, he was totally unself-conscious about it—didn’t try to cover it up or wrestle it down with the old “hand in the pocket” maneuver. I couldn’t help but be both impressed by his audacity and nostalgic about the memory of what it was like to have an uncontrollable teenage hard-on. Those were some good times. Then I got home and read this letter:

Q I recently started working for a company that subscribes to TONY and has many months of back issues in the john. I’ve come to develop the habit of temporarily escaping from my desk to spend long amounts of time in the bathroom reading your column. The problem is that I usually come across a letter or two that gets me really turned on and I can’t help but masturbate. I’m not really into erotic literature, and often the letters that turn me on couldn’t be remotely considered as such. Is there a term for this type of turn-on and do you think it’s a healthy habit to continue?

A While I think it’s great that you’re so into “Get Naked,” I think the term for this type of turn-on is extreme boredom. “Let’s see here, I could either rush back to my desk and finish up the new contract for the widget account, or I could play with this fun toy between my legs.” You don’t have to be even the slightest bit horny to make that call. Personally, I’ve always found it off-putting to see a stack of reading material in someone’s john. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for multitasking, but in that situation, I like to get in and get out as soon as rectocolonically possible. I know some people like to make an event out of taking a crap, but I would just rather not be privy to that fact. I also do not like being privy to the news that there are apparently a heckuva lot of seemingly respectable, gainfully employed New Yorkers who feel the need to rub one out in their communal restrooms during the workday. This tells me that there’s a lot of emotional upheaval in the American workplace, and that a lot of people don’t have the proper coping skills. In other words: No, I don’t think it’s a healthy habit to continue. I don’t think it’s really that big of a deal either way, but I would recommend using willpower to go jack-free from 9 to 5 and then bust out a nice one back in the privacy of your own home—and a subscription to your own personal copy of TONY will only set you back $19.97 a year.

Q Hey, Jamie, as a gay man who has “passed” for straight my entire life, I’ve had a peek behind the “straight” curtain. Before I came out, I had many deep friendships with straight men and let me tell you, the line between gay and straight is not as clear-cut as some of your letter writers would have you believe. I’m lucky to keep as friends some of the most confident, intelligent straight buddies, and most of them are the biggest pussy hounds out there. I wanked with one of them the night before I was best man in his wedding. Another confessed to me, after a long night of drinking in the Hamptons, that he believed there weren’t many straight guys out there who hadn’t “at least thought about” sex with an attractive guy. The latter never acted on his fantasy (as far as I know) but he was open to acknowledging it. Keep in mind, these guys are intelligent and confident in their sexuality. I’m not saying that all straight guys secretly want sex with men. But many are open to their feelings of attraction to other men—and some even act on it and then move on with their hetero sex lives. Blame both the gay and straight communities for making them put a label on their exploration.

A Oooh, I’ve never gotten a letter from an undercover gay before (unless, of course, you define undercover as “unself-aware”). I can’t quite put my finger on why I’m reacting like this, but your letter bugs the shit out of me. I think it’s the smugness about “passing for straight” (when you think about it, what does that even mean?), and getting a peek behind the straight curtain, as if you have access to some deep, dark secrets the rest of the world will never have the privilege to know. I also think it’s kind of inappropriate that you whacked off with your friend the night before being the best man in his wedding—couldn’t the “something blue” have at least been his balls? I suppose that your overall point—that not all straight men are locked in some rigid box of heterosexuality—is well-taken, but who in the gay or straight community is forcing these guys to put a label on anything? I think this letter was just an opportunity for you to pat yourself on the back for being so butch and for having straight guy friends and for summering in the Hamptons.

Send letters to Jamie Bufalino c/o Time Out New York, 475 Tenth Avenue, 12th floor, New York, NY 10018, or send e-mail to sex@timeoutny.com. Find more “Get Naked” online at timeoutnewyork.com, or check out “Sex on the Street” with Jamie Bufalino at timeoutnewyork.com/video.