Wow. I've only been an advice columnist for a week and already my head is spinning. Recently, I spammed a bunch of my friends, begging them to ask me questions about their love lives. I told them that if they didn't have any problems (Ha! Like I'd be friends with anyone who didn't have serious problems!), they should forward my plea to problem-plagued friends of theirs. As a result, I received a deluge of questions—several of which I'm actually going to have to go to the library to answer. And I was under the impression that this would be an easy job.
The second epiphany I had (after learning that I have a lot to learn) was that almost everyone I know has a suckass love life. I am not alone. Yay! Well, I am alone, just not alone in my aloneness. And yeah, I realize that the happily coupled would not be asking me—someone who hasn't had an orgasm with another person present in a few months—for advice, but really, the amount of misery out there was heartening.
The third revelation was that assholeness is universal. Scumbagocity knows no gender, it recognizes no sexual preference, class, religion, or color. See, I had always thought I was getting the short end of the stick being a straight woman. I figured lesbians had it made—after all, I'm a woman and I'm awesome; who wouldn't want to be with another me? (OK, besides the overwhelming majority of straight, single, employed, cute males.) Men have put me and most of my girlfriends through hell. (Settle down, I promise not to use this space to male-bash.) Babette's e-mail made me see the error of my thinking. Her ex-girlfriend not only used the "I just want to be friends" line, but also threw in the most horrific break-up clich頯f all time: "It's not you—it's me." Aaaargh! I guess Babs should be glad she didn't hear about her girly's need for space. But how disillusioning. Maybe my straight guy friends aren't (completely) full of shit—women do suck.
Babette's question was whether she was under any obligation to be friends with her ex. Ha, I say. Why would a beautiful, smart girl like Babette waste her time being friends with someone who has both the bad taste to dump her and a frightening lack of imagination? Jeez. At least come up with something clever—something along the lines of, "I'd like to be your girlfriend, unfortunately I am destined to die a bitter lonely death, surrounded by cats who'll chew my face off after I croak and I'll be discovered only once the stench of my rotting corpse becomes more than the neighbors can bear and even then there'll be nobody at my funeral because I was such a slag in life that nobody will weep once I'm dead." Color me kookoo, but if I'm going to get my heart broken, I want it to be done with at least a smattering of style and creativity.
Here's even more evidence that ghastly behavior transcends all known boundaries. I got this question from a friend of a friend:
"How do I get my boyfriend to stop dribbling my head like it's a basketball when I'm going down on him? I've told him that it hurts and humiliates me. If I didn't know otherwise about him, I'd think he was on a power trip because of the way he forcibly holds my head down. He has listened to me and then apologized when I told him how this makes me feel, but within a week or two he starts all over again. What should I do?"
Like the disobedient puppy, this boy must be trained. Your first course of action should be to remove Mr. Pushy's penis from your mouth as soon as his palm makes contact with the back of your head. Don't say a word. Just look up at him. Pause until it looks like he's getting the idea. This will not take long. Resume activity. If he starts up again, graze his most sensitive part with your teeth as you again remove his penis from your mouth. And again, look up at him. This time show him your teeth. Repeat as necessary.
The thing I liked best about this question is that I would've immediately assumed that a woman wrote it. Not because my default is set to straight girl, but because I'd figure that any guy who gives and gets blow jobs would have firsthand knowledge of just how irritating it is to have your face mashed into some guy's crotch. But, as it happens, this letter is from a guy—isn't that cool? These guys know how annoying it is, but they still do it anyway! See? Isn't this exciting? EVERYBODY SUCKS!!!
Reader Assignment: Please send your definition of "cheating" to firstname.lastname@example.org