I find applying stinging nettles to my body highly pleasurable. I’ve tried the Web for more information, but either I get herbalist pages or, when searching the words “nettles” and “fetish” together, I get directed to S-M-type pages. I don’t really go for that. Can you direct me somewhere where I can get advice? Are there any long-term dangers in exposing my “delicate areas” to the little green temptresses?

Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »

Second, Tracy Mehlin at the Center for Urban Horticulture at the University of Washington was kind enough not to slam the phone down when I read her your question, perhaps because she once knew a guy on a farm who occasionally lashed himself with stinging nettles. “I didn’t ask him to go into details about why he did it,” said Tracy, “but there are some people who enjoy the effect.” An hour later Tracy faxed me some additional info about that effect, which doesn’t sound very enjoyable to me: The leaves and stems of stinging nettle are covered with tiny hollow hairs. When a person comes in contact with the plant, the tips of the hairs break off, stick in the person’s skin, and then, like a lot of little hypodermic needles, pump in a venom that makes the skin itch, swell, tingle, and burn for hours.

As it turns out, STING, you’re not the first person to expose his “delicate areas” to stinging nettles. The Romans thrashed men “below the navel,” according to Rodale’s Encyclopedia of Herbs, to improve virility. (Did Roman women object to being fucked by guys whose dicks were covered with tiny hairs full of venom? Alas, the men who wrote the history books didn’t record their opinions.) And while occasional contact with stinging nettles–even below the navel–won’t do you any lasting harm, “massive or repeated contact” with stinging nettles isn’t advisable. So like all good vices–booze, boys, bacon–stinging nettles should be enjoyed in moderation.

Thanks, FART, you’ve really opened my eyes. All this time I’ve been enjoying regular, oral, and anal sex, risking STDs and broken hearts and God knows what else, when I could’ve been snugglin’ butts and huffin’ farts. What was I thinking?

–My Open Sore Troubles