{Let Rachel Flotard of Visqueen take the sting out of your heart. Send your love advice questions her way at loveishard@threeimaginarygirls.com.}

Hi Rachel,

My boyfriend of two months was unusually persistent about seeing the movie 'Zoo' recently. In case you don't know, it's a documentary about the 2005 Enumclaw Horse Sex Incident, which resulted in a man's death due to a punctured colon. Well, I agreed to check it out, but noticed that my bf didn't bat an eye at any of the graphic scenes that I had to look away from — and believe me, there were a couple of truly squirm-worthy images on view.

The rest of our evening was fine, though neither of us really wanted to discuss the movie. Cut to later that night, when he was hornier than I've ever seen him… and we ended up having the best sex of our new-ish relationship.

Oh, Rachel, maybe I shouldn't read anything into that, but there's one other thing you should know: he has admitted to having gone through a "plushie" phase in his teen years. (We're both in our thirties now.) He says he got over this little kink long ago — and I wouldn't be dating him if I thought he was still keen on sticking his dick into modified stuffed animals — but the 'Zoo' incident is a thing that makes me go "hmmm."

Everything else about this boy is spectacular. I mean, oddly so. He's charming, reliable, honest, and a total stallion (sorry)… which is why I haven't kicked him to the curb already. Should I really be taking the above points as red flags, or am I just being paranoid? Help!!

Cordially,

No Beasts in Belltown

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Dear No Beasts in Belltown,

I know about Enumclaw. Like that town didn’t have enough problems being called Enumclaw, which sounds like the technical term for having your colon drilled out by an angry steed. And I’m sure his name was Buckles or Meadow Skipper. Poor graceful thing forced to pipe-clean some wack hick’s breezeway. Goddamnit, can’t people beat off to fuckin Seabusicuit or Milo and Otis anymore?

Fact: I would rather join the Fly Girls, wear a Batman shirt, black Reeboks, and do the Re-Run while people shot at me for the rest of my goddamn life than see that movie. And thinking about it makes me want to be a virgin in an Amish prison run by baby deer and kitties without anuses.

Yes. Yes, your dude is a charming, spectacular, reliable, animal gonad wanter who almost certainly owns a jester hat and/or wizard cape. Nary I forget, a recovering "plushie"? Circle jerking with the Mariner Moose and a bunch of other mascots at a Holiday Inn convention center does not leave the system like a spray-on tan. Comprende?

Belltown, please make sure you're tall enough to ride this ride.

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{When she's not providing solace for the lovelorn, Rachel can be seen and heard playing for her band, Visqueen. But don't let that intimidate you! Send your love woes her way.}