Unwanted Advice

Today’s question comes from Wayne and Tamara.  They are relationship counselors with syndicated columns runs in newspapers in over a dozen countries.

Keep your friends close, but not too close

My husband and I have been married a year, together for seven. Recently we came to a bump in our relationship where we noticed we were drifting apart. We are working on reconnecting.

The problem is my husband tells his close friends about everything, including our lack of connection. I was surprised he revealed such intimate details.

I find it hard to hang around his friends when they come to our house. I wonder how much they know. The real kicker is one of his best friends is a nice woman who I’ve long suspected has a crush on my husband.

When I am out of town at conferences or working long hours to support him through school, these two hang out, go for coffee or watch movies at her apartment.

I truly believe he is oblivious to this woman’s advances, but something feels off about the whole scenario, like when he forgot my birthday but made a birthday card for her. I just wish I had the closeness he seems to have with his friends.

Calling your husband obilivous is like the pot calling the kettle black. People don’t drift apart.  They drift from someone to someone else. In your case that someone else is this other woman. Bitch needs to get gone.

Usually at this point, I have to tell people like you that your partner is cheating, but this is a close one. Your letter doesn’t have the usual red flags.. but there is cause for concern.

Here’s how you kill two (love)birds with one stone.  Arrange a get together with him and his friends, including this woman.  Pick a fight with your husband, during which you should comment how he is “half a man who only has one ball (get it.. one stone).”  At this point, watch the woman’s reaction.  If she looks really confused, then she knows first hand you’re lying.  If she looks surprised, she probably hasn’t gotten to him yet,  and probably bought you a bit more time.  Follow that up with “still think sharing intimate details is a good idea?” and it should quickly put the issue to rest.

Do not reproduce

Dear Abby:

I want to know if you can become addicted to drugs by having sex with an addict. Please don’t print my name because I live in a small, conservative community in Ohio.

Nameless in a Red State

So not only are you a Godless fornicator, but you lie down with drug addicts?   You don’t want me to print your name not because your small town community will know you have terrible taste in sexual partners, but because you don’t want your neighbors to know that you’re dumb as a box of hair.

If you need to ask that question, you are too stupid to be having sex.  But since you asked, I’ll answer it. Only if you do anal.

 

Dear Abby:

Ever since my boss learned we live close to each other (about 15 minutes between us), he has asked me for a ride home every day. The ride is about 45 minutes. How do I tell him “no” without getting fired? Help!

Make yourself less available for taxi service. Start filling your calendar with errands, appointments and social engagements after work. You can’t be fired for having a schedule other than straight to work and straight home.

If this were a co-worker it would be easy.  Just drive like a maniac, blast shitty music, and fill your car with garbage that they’ll fear tetanus. But this is your boss, so you need something that will not get your ass fired.

Abby’s advice is good – if you want to buy yourself a week of freedom. I suspect its effectiveness will be short-lived.  Here’s why.  Your boss is a total asshole but he’s not stupid.  He’ll most likely casually inquire about your after work plans before asking for a ride. Unless you’re good enough to have a new excuse for the rest of your working days, you’ll eventually run out and have to take him.

What you need to do is graciously accept his offer for you to be his chauffeur, but rather than tell him you have errands beforehand, wait until you’re in the car before mentioning that you have “one quick stop” to make.  Gradually increase the duration and complexity of these errands. I give it a week before he gets tired of waiting while you get your dry cleaning, oil changed, and pick up a few groceries.

He’ll catch on pretty quick that your ride home takes more time and hassle than his old way, and he’ll leave you the hell alone and go back to whatever he did before.  He can’t complain because he won’t want to sound like an ungrateful jerk.  After all, it’s only a few quick stops.

If that doesn’t work, I’m afraid your only option is to move.

Today’s One Line Wednesday™ comes courtesy of Dear Abby:

Show some restraint

I am 13 and in the eighth grade. I have always had trouble sleeping. Every night it takes me an hour to fall asleep, and lately I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I have started taking pills that make you drowsy so I can get some sleep. My mom doesn’t know about the pills. I’m scared to keep on doing this. I have told my mom about my sleep problem, and she tells me to read. She won’t take me to the doctor because she thinks my problem is normal. Abby, this isn’t normal.

What can I do? Sleepless in Oklahoma

This problem will go away when you discover masturbation

 

Each week, I select a letter for One Line Wednesday™ and skip the usual in-depth advice and gets right to the point in one word or sentence. Think you can do better? Submit your one line response below.  Who knows, maybe eventually there will be a prize for the best one.

A vintage Dear Abby from 2005:

A Mondo guy played by a douche

Dear Abby,

I have a mondo problem. I think my mom doesn’t like me anymore. When I fell off my bike head-first without a helmet, she said I was “overdramatic.”

I have fallen down 18 feet of stairs four times, and my dad was the only one who helped me. Sometimes my mom is really nice, but I am a little scared of her.

I would tell her myself, but I am 12 and still very sensitive. Please help.

Scared in Nashville

Jesus Christ kid, it only took this letter for me not to like you. I can only imagine what putting up with your bitching for 12 years is like. Here’s what you need to do. First and foremost: grow up. I don’t mean to say that your immature. I mean that no one likes 12-year-olds unless they’re a single malt. You’re all obnoxious, self-centered, spoiled brats who have it way too easy. Some kids become tolerable around 16 or 17, but most really need to hit their 21st birthday and start drinking before they’re any fun be around.

Also, be aware that you are not Corey Feldman and this is not 1985, so “mondo” should not be in your vocabulary. You’re from Nashville, not SoCal.  You don’t sound like a surfer. You sound like a douche.

Next, learn how to walk down the fucking stairs.  There may be books at the library or YouTube videos.  I don’t really know.  I could navigate steps since before I can remember because I am a normal person.

On second thought, I’m calling bullshit  on this crap about the stairs. First off, 18 feet? Do you have any idea how high that is? It’s two fucking stories of continuous hurt at least. It would take forever to get to the bottom. You not only went back for seconds, you went back four Goddamned times. If you had a brain in your head, you’d figure that after the second time, you should probably take the elevator.

Speaking of the brain in your head, if you can’t navigate something as simple as a set of stairs, what the Jesus makes you think that you can ride a bicycle without a helmet? At the very least you should be wearing a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, a mouth guard, hockey pads, and a little flashing light so they could find you in the dark when you inevitably run your bicycle into a ditch. In fact, you might want to look into a tricycle, though I’m pretty sure you’d manage to turn that into a death trap as well so stick to walking on flat level surfaces.

I’m siding with your mom on this one. Her word was “over-dramatic”, my word is “apt.” Either you’ll outgrow what has to be the most awkwardly awkward phase I never heard of, or natural selection will do its job and you’ll be put out of your misery. Either way, eventually your mom  will like you again – it’s really bad form to hate your dead kid.

This One Line Wednesday™ isn’t from a letter.  Dear Abby ends many of her columns with a pitch for her guides on several topics.  I’ll give you the same advice for free.

It ain't easy being green and popular

For an excellent guide to becoming a better conversationalist and a more sociable person, order “How to Be Popular.” Send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $6 (U.S. funds) to: Dear Abby — Popularity Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in the price.)

 

Put out and have a big dick or nice tits.

 

Each week, I select a letter for One Line Wednesday™ and skip the usual in-depth advice and gets right to the point in one word or sentence. Think you can do better? Submit your one line response below.  Who knows, maybe eventually there will be a prize for the best one. 

Today’s letter comes from Ask Amy.

DEAR AMY: I have enough return address labels to last for 50 years, sent to me from charities wanting my support. Maybe I could use the labels to mail the charity calendars that are now accumulating. At least the labels last for more than a year!

I used to send a token donation to cover the value, on the theory that if I actually use the material it’s valid to send a contribution.

Now it’s gotten out of control, and if I don’t send any contribution I get a follow-up letter. I know these organizations need help, but you can’t support everything!

Do you have a nice, easy perspective on this less-than-earth-shattering issue? — Inundated With Mail

Not only do I have absolutely no sympathy for you, I also blame you for all the e-mail spam that I get in my inbox every day. It wouldn’t bother me so much if the spam didn’t insinuate that I had a tiny penis or  even worse, that my tiny penis needed a pill  to function properly.

Here’s a little economics lesson for you. The reason we get junk mail is because of weak willed bleeding hearts and morons respond to it. Even though 99% of the people hate it and ignore it, people like you – the other 1% –  make it worth their time and effort by giving them a donation. When you send out millions of mailings, 1% starts adding up to real money and makes up for the rest who chuck it in the garbage. It is the very definition of a few people ruining for the rest of us.

The absolute worst thing you can do is to respond to these things. Even if you just sent a thank you note instead of the donation, you’ve confirmed that you’re the type of person opens and reads their junk mail.  You managed to step up your level of stupidity by actually sending them money. Congratulations, you’ve now just confirmed that you’re a sucker. Your prize is that your info is shared with all the other marketing companies ensuring that you will get these mailings until you die or move, whichever comes first.

What does this have to do with the “Dr. Rockhard’s Boner juice” e-mails that I get? It’s because these charity label things have been around forever, and since idiots like you have proven that the method works, e-mail spammers  took that proven method and moved it into e-mail. The same benefit with 100th of the cost. Estimates are that 90-97% of all email sent is spam, and it’s all your fault.  Thanks a lot, douche.

Having been raised Catholic, I’m a firm believer that if you sinned,  you must perform penance.  Here is what you need to do to atone for the inconvenience that you brought upon yourself and everyone else on the planet.

The next time you get a letter from one of these charities, take it down to the local Kinko’s and make  as many copies as you have labels. Stuff each one in an envelope, use the labels that they kindly provided you, and mail the letter back to them. If you’re feeling particularly creative, also include some really hard core pornography in there as well to really get their attention.   The catch is that it every 50th or so envelope, you need to put a check for a small amount-no more than a dollar. After a while, though figure out that it’s costing them more money in terms of time and labor to open and process your envelopes than they get from you. If you do it right, they’ll be asking you to stop sending them mail. It may take a couple tries, but eventually I’m pretty sure the leave you alone and God willing the rest of us as well.

While not in response to a specific question, Dan Savage stumbled upon some deeply profound advice in the most unlikeliest of places.. graffiti on a men’s room wall.

Color Changing Urinals- Write your own sex tips

I’d really like to meet the person responsible for some graffiti I spotted in the men’s room at the Cornerstone: “Don’t Raw Dog A Random.”

That has to be the most effective peer-to-peer safer-sex message I’ve ever read while taking a piss in Maryland. It did take me a second to work out exactly what it meant, as I’m old, so here’s a quick translation for other olds: “Don’t raw dog a random” means “For heaven’s sake, don’t engage in unprotected vaginal intercourse—don’t have sex without a condom—with a woman you’ve only just met, particularly if you met her in this drinking establishment. Bro.”

It’s not a failsafe strategy for avoiding sexually transmitted infections—people can get very specific STIs from completely nonrandom sex partners—but the number of STIs could be cut dramatically if all male college students everywhere refrained from raw-dogging those lovely lady randoms and vice versa. (I realize that “random” is not gendered… but if you saw this bar, you would know that an exclusively heterosexual clientele can be safely assumed. A straight boy wrote that message, and he was addressing other straight boys, and “random” refers to female pickups, not male pickups.)

I want to add that I was particularly impressed by the use of the word “random” in place of, say, “bitch,” “slut,” “whore,” or any of the other sexist/hostile/demeaning terms that college-town-bathroom-stall-graffitiing types typically use in place of “woman,” “female,” or “young lady coed.” Well done, DIY safe-sex educator!

Well done for sharing, Dan.  You nailed it!

Nailed It! features are like “Best Of” categories, for when when my fellow advice giver’s answer is so spot on, I couldn’t have said it better myself.

 

Today’s One Line Wednesday™ comes courtesy of Dear Abby.

DEAR ABBY: I’m 13, the youngest of three children, but I am treated with no respect. My parents (mostly my dad) treat my brother like he’s a prince. Even if he loses a football game he is praised. I just started playing volleyball and my team won, but my parents haven’t said anything to me.

Abby, I feel so disrespected. Please help me. I have talked to them about it, but it doesn’t seem to get through. — NEEDS RESPECT IN TAMPA, FLA.

 

 

 

You need to accept that respect is earned by having a penis and playing a real sport.

 

Each week, I select a letter for One Line Wednesday™ and skip the usual in-depth advice and gets right to the point in one word or sentence. Think you can do better? Submit your one line response below.  Who knows, maybe eventually there will be a prize for the best one.

 

As today is my birthday, I thought this column from Annie’s Mailbox was appropriate.  Needless to say, this writer did not receive an invitation to my party.

Worst Guests Ever.

Dear Annie: Every year, friends of ours have birthday parties at their homes and at bars. We usually can’t go because of other obligations, but when we do go, are we obligated to bring a gift? Or is a birthday card with well wishes sufficient?

If gifts are not expected and it is simply a fun get-together, shouldn’t they say “no gifts”? We enjoy seeing friends, but by having these parties every year, it seems they are only interested in presents. To find a gift that costs only a few dollars is practically impossible. Is it wrong to feel this way? Can we just bring a card? Should we skip the party altogether? — B-Day Party Guest

Annie says:

Dear Guest: People who like to celebrate their birthdays are inclined to do so once every year. In most instances, these are very informal events. If the party is at a bar, you can treat the birthday celebrant to a drink. At their house, bring a snack or a bottle of something. It would be a shame to avoid all such parties because you are fixated on the presents. Go and have a good time.

 

First off, if your idea of a proper gift consists of something that can be had for a few dollars, trust me when I tell you that there is no way these friends of yours are inviting you to their parties for your presents. Considering the pettiness of your gripe, I doubt it’s your charm and winning social skills either.  If I were you, I’d be wondering less about what you should be bringing and more puzzled about why these friends of yours are inviting you in the first place.

In polite society, decent people bring something to the host of a party.  This is especially true for birthdays. You really should consider yourselves lucky if birthday parties  are the only gift giving events that you are obligated to attend.  My social calendar is chock-full of invitations that come with a gift as the price of admission – weddings, bridal showers, kids birthdays, Christmas parties, bar mitzvahs. The list goes on and on, and it only gets worse as you get older and your friends keep breeding.

Friendships are seemingly never-ending parade of obligations and inconveniences.   We put up with this crap because most people can see the long view and have a concept of reciprocity. What hippies call karma is real.  You give gifts to get them, and you get them by putting out your friends as much as they do you.

What your letter is really saying is that not only do you go to your friends parties and try to weasel your way out of giving them a gift for their effort, but you also don’t host your own damn parties making sure they return the favor. You are upsetting the natural balance of things, and that is the real cause of your frustration.

I mean seriously, you also have a birthday every damn year!  Stop complaining about how your friends are all grabby gift whores and do what they do.  Throw yourselves birthday parties. Everything will balance out, and the cash you spend on your friends will come back to you in equal measure in the form of gift cards to restaurants you hate, sweaters that don’t fit, and books you already have.

Hell, if they are dumb enough to keep inviting  you ungrateful little shits to their parties, you could probably get away with throwing yourselves to or even three birthday parties a year. Pop out a few kids, get divorced and remarried, and soon you’ll have an attic full of useless crap courtesy of your nearest and dearest.

One last thing to mention for my readers.  Stating “No Gifts” is the biggest no-win social situation there is.  It is a notice more often ignored than “wet paint” or “hot plate.”

There is always some asshole who ignores it and makes everyone look bad.  Worse, if most of your friends are assholes, there will undoubtedly be many gifts.  The writers of this letter obviously have no shame, but do you really want to be spending the entire party saying “I thought they said no gifts?” See what following clearly laid out instructions gets you?

There is a great defense to this passive aggressive ploy.  If you get one of these “your presence is our present” invites, gift wrap the biggest empty box that you can find  but (this is key)  leave it in your car. When you get to the party, if only one or two people have gifts, hang onto it for the next one.  If there are many gifts, loudly announce “I left mine in my car” and go get it. Chances are, the biggest box will be opened immediately.  When your host discovers it’s empty, simply say “you said no gifts, and that is no gift.”  The host will appreciate the joke, the people who brought real gifts will secretly envy that everyone liked your nothing better than their something, and the people who didn’t bring gifts will appreciate the vindication. Most importantly, everyone will know not to play mind games with you.