I've had quite a few vanilla sex partners. In fact, I've never had a sex partner of any other flavor. So it's always been sticky telling them about S/M. I mean, when people hear the Sade/Masoch abbreviation, they envision women living in boxes in basements, or at least women being treated rudely.

So I say: "Call it what you want. Call it exploratory sex when i grab your hair. Call it hot sex when I tell you not to move. Call it vanilla sex when I ask you to call me Master." But it will really be, you know, chocolate and strawberry sex.

It's true that when they get a taste of my ice cream needs, some of my prospective partners will feel they have to scoop me up and dump me. They'll know a weirdo when they slurp one.

But what about my own options? What do I do when I have someone who loves me, who wants to do everything for me-except be tied up, tickled, padlocked, paddled, chained, chastised, spanked or spoken to sternly?

Do I say, "That's okay, I'll hang up my horsewhip, trash my trainer, put away my police equipment, deep-six my discipline hood"? Or do I say, "No way. I'm going Neapolitan!"?

Well, I vacillate. I go away and come back, go bent then straight, regress and reform, turn bad then good, until I completely forget why I am "relating" to someone in the first place.

And then I remember: I want a Rocky Road woman who will ride in my car trunk, a pistachio partner who will pick nuts off the floor with her teeth, a Ben & Jerry's person who doesn't mind feeling the ice.

Vanilla can melt. I'm going Swiss almond!