FunctionalAmbivalent

Advice Column Number #7: Speak Not of This Again

From the ever-fertile iVillage bulletin boards, this:

For context, I am a 27-year old woman in a serious relationship for the last 5 months. There is a 12-year age difference between us, which seemed worth mentioning. We are both employed, and he is a professor. We recently crossed the "I love you" threshhold and have begun talking about future plans in a concrete way.

Earlier today, while copying picture files from a recent vacation (with his permission) from his hard disk, I unexcusably and without permission began looking through the other documents on the disk. (Before continuing, please understand how much I know what I did was wrong, an abuse of trust, and deplorable. I understand that I had absolutely NO right to look through documents that are his, and which he did not tell me I could see.)

Among the documents, I found a spreadsheet ranking about 100 women (his colleagues, his students, other women I do not know) according to categories like "face," "body," "legs," "intelligence," and so on. I was on it, too. Upon finding this list, I became hysterical. The existence of such a spreadsheet is confusing to me, first, because why would he keep such a thing? And second, it makes me question the things he has said to me since we have been together. Especially since he ranked me lower than some of other women in the different criteria. And further, it makes me uncomfortable that he is rating these other women, some younger than me, and that I cannot imagine the reason why he would need to do this in a color-coded, detailed spreadsheet.

Understanding that I am in the wrong for looking, and will not look again (because no matter what, this kind of abuse of trust cannot continue), I am not sure how to react to this document. I want to forget about it and have faith in his declarations of love and satisfaction with me. But why would he keep this kind of list? What does this mean about his character? Mostly, just - Why? Why the need to keep a superficial, crude document?

First of all, let me express my respect for the way you owned up to your gross violation of your boyfriend's privacy. Your confession is as admiarble as your actions are perfect justification for thrashing you soundly and abandoning you by the side of the road. I'm guessing you're insecure and were looking for some kind of clue as to his true feelings. You know, secret wedding plans, notebooks where he's practiced writing "Mr. Nosy Nosyperson" over and over to see how it will look after you're married, that kind of thing. 

The first lesson you've got to learn if you're going to have a long-lasting relationship is: guys don't work like that. When you look into the dark corners of our private worlds, you don't find heart-shaped boxes of candy and bookshelf displays of our old Pound Puppy collections. We don't keep little written notes around of how happy we are or how much we're looking forward to meeting your mother or how cute we think you are when you're PMSing. When guys write things down, we do it because we have a subconscious need for the authorities to be able to piece together what it was that finally drove us to the gun shop for 3,000 rounds of ammunition to take down to the office and settle things once and for all. We're not much on weepy suicide notes, but we don't want to leave a mystery behind, either.

Your best case scenario is probably finding out that he's got a list of women, that he rates each of their physical attributes on a one-to-ten scale, and that even though you don't make the tight ass or big tits pantheon, he's fallen in love with you anyway rather than, for example, the slutty AP clerk whose jutting nipples earned her the top slot on the headlights-are-on list. Considering what's going on in most of our minds -- guys are pretty much pissed and resentful all the time -- you should be glad he's making innocuous, immature, sex-related lists rather than a who-to-kill-first diagram.

The other thing is -- and this applies to both men and women -- the matters we keep private we usually keep private for a good reason. You should thank God you didn't discover that he's got two previous wives and $15,000 a month in alimony payments, or that he used to be a woman, or some other automatic deal-breaker.

Here's my advice: a successful relationship is not built on total and complete honesty, but on respect and affection and hot sex. You've screwed up the first, so for a while I'd concentrate heavily on the other two, particularly the third. He'll stop wondering if the relationship is going anywhere when, as the waiter pours another glass of wine, you lean over and whisper to your boyfriend that you're not wearing any panties.

And one more thing: admirable though it is that you've owned up to violating terribly your boyfriend's privacy, never, ever tell your boyfriend what you did. He may forgive you; he may even laugh, since he's the kind of Good Joe a nosy-ninny like you would fall in love with. But there's also a pretty good chance that he's going to mope around for a while and then drop you off out in the country hoping you'll never find your way back home.

Some things, a man just can't put up with.

Seeking Wisdom, Googler Rachel Inevitably Goes Away Disappointed

Rachel emails:

Just wanted to say I found your blog via traffic school googling - I got my ticket in OC so I have to go to traffic school IN PERSON - boourns :(  Any tips?

Of course, it's probably too late to offer advice like, "Don't get a ticket" or "stay home."

The posting Rachel Googled is here.

I'm not sure, exactly, what Rachel is seeking. A school recommendation? It's been a while since I was in the market, but I, personally, would recommend a traffic school taught by a serious grown-up rather than a bad comedian. I appreciate the idea of comedy traffic schools; it's a nice concept, laughing your way through a meaningless bureaucratic exercise.

The thing is, there aren't that many funny people in the world. Odds are, you're going to end up trapped in a classroom with some guy who's about as funny as the guy in your office you'd do anything to avoid at a party. This is who you want to spend five hours on Saturday afternoon with?

I'd rather take my traffic school straight-up, thank you. I'd rather spend the day doodling and constructing byzantine sexual fantasies in a room full of morose adults. I don't want to spend my time as fodder for a psychologically needy teacher who expects me to laugh at his red rubber nose. It's traffic school, for heaven's sake. There's nothing funny here. Get on with it so we can all go home.

One last thing: What's "boourns"?

Advice Column #6: I'd Better Be Really Careful How I Answer This Question

Today's question comes from MSNBC's Sexploration column, written by Brain Alexander, who apparently has a first name and a middle name but no last name. For those of you not familiar with the format, I provide the answer.

Question: Do men really care if the woman has an orgasm or not?
Answer: Men, despite our obvious similarities, are all different. There's no telling, on any given day, what we're going to care about. I've had days, for example, when all I could think about was women having orgasms. Women having orgasms was the most important thing in the world to me. And then, on other days, women having orgasms is about as important to me as the location of a convenient Fed Ex box in Yankton, South Dakota.

The issue is not whether, in general, we care about the woman having an orgasm. The issue is whether we get the care/don't care cycle synched-up with the woman we're currently having sex with. That is to say, it doesn't matter even a little if I'm not interested in women's orgasms when I'm out playing golf with my friends. Facing a downhill, 30-foot bogie putt, all-in-all it's probably best if I didn't give a damn about women's orgasm. Imagine what might happen if I chose that moment to care if the woman has an orgasm. I might spend the next ten or fifteen minutes teasingly rubbing my putter back and forth across the soft fuzz of the green before I focused my attention on getting to the hole.

At other times, I really, really care about women's orgasm. Because most of those moments have been when I'm in close proximity to my actual wife, I have led a fairly happy life.

Trouble starts when a man -- not me, but some other man -- is in a moment when he really should care whether the woman has an orgasm, but he doesn't. No matter how hard he tries, the siren song of sleep or a nearby refrigerator or getting the hell off the conference room table before somebody comes in is so overpowering that...well, compromises have to be made. And those compromises are usually variations on this theme:

     That was terrific. I'll catch you next time.

Those are the moments when relationships and, occasionally, testicles can be irreparably damaged. Surely, the response to a cavalier "catch you next time" is usually "There's not going to be a next time."

So, yes, men really do care if the woman has an orgasm or not. We may not show it in a way women understand, because men and women communicate differently. But we care. We care a lot. We care because we understand that women, physiologically, are more complicated than men, and we want to support and even celebrate that complexity. And we care because sex creates a deep, emotional bond. But mostly, we care because the woman's orgasm is a pretty sure indicator that there's going to be a next time. And there's nothing more important to any man than next time, particularly when this time is over.

Advice Column #5: There Are No Problems, There Are Only Opportunities

Todays' question comes from the ever-fertile message boards of iVillage.com.

Question: I have been with my husband for 8 years.  We have a 4 year old and I have a 12 year old from a previous marriage.  I am 38 and he is 47.  He had never been married before me, and had only really had one serious relationship, of which they did not even live together.

Anyways - my husband has zero interest in sex.  I can't remember the last time we had sex, probably 6 - 9 months ago...I am a very attractive woman and could certainly have my pick of men, but I chose this one and it seems I should probably just resign myself to living the life of an unwanted, unloved women forever.  And ever. 

Is this one of those situations where I've made my bed and now must lie in it?

Answer: First of all, "anyways" is only a word in one context: "The way she talks is irritating. She inserts lots of 'anyways' into all her sentences."

And, second, your husband is gay. I mean, you have to know that deep down, right? He was single until he was about to turn 40, and confronting that milestone he married you and you had a kid and, after tucking a protectively totemic family portrait in his wallet, removes his penis from your life. Tell me: does he also take a lot of overnight "business trips" and spend a lot of time "jogging" at the local park where lots of men just kind of walk around in circles? Do you find grass stains on the knees of his sweat pants and -- tell me the truth -- is he really particular about the way the living room is laid out?

The fact that he's gay doesn't mean you have to divorce him. Far from it. Some of the most successful marriages I know are between gay men and hetero women. The key to the success of those marriages is that the woman take a lover. Just what kind of lover depends on the woman. It's fashionable these days to go younger, but some women prefer men their own age or even older.

The taking of a lover has obvious benefits for the woman, but benefits as well the gay husband. It takes the pressure off, decreases the tension around the house and -- because the woman is occupied -- the overnight business trips can stretch to three or even four days without anyone feeling neglected. Then, when it's time for some kind of respectable event -- a family reunion, for example -- the couple arrives arm-in-arm and no one is the wiser.

For this to work, it's important that the woman take only one lover. If the woman behaves scandalously -- picking up men in bars, seducing the conveniently-located husbands of friends and neighbors, doing strangers in mall parking lots -- the situation will likely become intolerable for the man and the marriage will collapse.

Keep it discreet and both you and your husband will live happily ever after.

Advice Column #4: At the Heart of Things

Welcome to another in Functional/Ambivalent's continuing series of advice columns. As my regular reader knows, I search out a poignant question from more-or-less respectable advice columnist across the WWW, and answer using my own very own brain. Today's question comes from The Answer Man, who's asked:

Question: I'm going through divorce and my ex-wife has pretty much given me everything and I still don't think its enough. I have the kids 50% of time, I pay minimal child support on my two boys and she has repeatedly cut me breaks during the divorce. She has a new boyfriend who is a really great guy and rides a kick ass dirt bike.... Should I hate him or am I just a friggin whiny-ass moron who expects life to be handed to him? By the way I have been banging the day-care lady for the past five years. She smells so great with orange oil on her and she's always sending me pictures of her breasts. I'm friends with her husband.

Fred, Age 31, Michigan

Answer: Fred, with one minor exception, I think you've got it made. Think about it: Your ex-wife is pathologically reasonable, which means over the next few years you can ratchet-down your child support to nearly nothing by orchestrating a series of fictional crises. Transmission trouble, sick aunt who needs medicine, lost the checkbook...she seems the sort of humane, empathetic person you can take advantage of. Then there's your relationship with the daycare lady -- who I assume is attractive and young rather than old and matronly. It's perfect: drop off the kids, go into a back room for a quickie, no strings attached and every now and then she sends a picture of her tits to you, just to keep you interested. If there's an unmentioned big-screen TV somewhere in the equation, it sounds like you're leading the life most guys fantasize about.

The one minor exception is your assessment of your ex-wife's boyfriend: a great guy who rides a kick-ass dirt bike. This indicates one of two things. First, you might be gay. In my universe, there's nothing wrong with being gay, but I suspect in your universe being gay is a horror to be denied at all costs. It's one of the reasons people like you do manly things like riding dirt bikes, figuring as long as you don't spend your Saturdays antiquing or attending musical theater the feelings you get when a buff guy passes you in the locker room must not be anything to worry about. Still, your obvious fantasies about jumping dunes with the guy who's plugging your wife makes me wonder, since playing the cuckold is really just a way of being gay through a surrogate. As the song says, more or less: If you can't be with the one you love, watch him fuck the one you're with.

There is another possibility, of course. You could be a vacuous ass hole. I discount that slightly because you don't live in California, but it's still something to consider. If that's the case, you can look forward to a life of empty misery, trying to find meaning in objects like dirt bikes and skating over any real emotional involvement with actual human beings.

A closer reading of your question -- which is more a request for affirmation than it is a search for insight -- makes me think maybe I was wrong about the ass hole thing. I mean, look at the bare facts: You're divorced from a woman who sounds, frankly, way better than you. The key attribute you use to describe your ex-wife's boyfriend is the artificial penis he sits astride to escape his responsibilities. You're regularly having sex with a woman for whom you clearly have no respect or affection, and you describe yourself as a "friend" of her husband. Because, of course, friends always screw each other's wives and document the affairs with a collection of pornographic photos.

I'm changing my mind here, Fred. You're an ass hole. And don't think for a second that means you're not gay, too.

Advice Column #3: Love Is Lovelier, the Second Time Around

Today's question comes from a reader of The Advice Lady, another of the seemingly endless string of Internet-based advice givers.

Question: Specifically, what are the duties of the matron of honor for a second marriage? Does one have a bridal shower? What gifts are appropriate? Thank you.

Answer: You'd be surprised how often I get  this question, I think because there's more than one kind of second marriage and, thus, more than one kind of second wedding.

Your duties as Matron of Honor are dependent on the dynamics of the specific wedding. If the marriage is between an older, financially secure man and a younger, financially ambitious woman, the Matron of Honor's duties are reminiscent of the duties of the getaway car driver or -- perhaps more precisely -- the duties of the guy who held the horses outside the bank that was being robbed. That is, it's the Matron's job to ensure that a viable exit strategy exists, to provide shelter and solace when the exit strategy is enacted, and to deflect angry spousal phone calls as the groom works his way down through his runaway bride's address book. So practice:

I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't seen (insert Bride's name here) since we went out to Sedona. Thanks for that, by the way.

On the other hand, there is another kind of second marriage that poses a completely different set of responsibilities. Some second marriages serve as erasures of first marriages. These often feature a bride previously married young to someone who didn't live up to his meager potential. Quaint as the small church wedding and reception of just a few good friends may have been, this time around the goal is a wedding and reception that overwhelms all regrets. These tend to be huge, romantic affairs "done right." That is, the couple is further along in their careers and flush with capital. The groom -- who is statistically likely to be the bigger earner -- is willing to expend somewhere in the mid five figures to create the wedding of his bride's dreams, understanding that he will receive excellent, grateful, exotic-lingerie-intensive sex in return.

In this type of second wedding, it is the job of the Matron of Honor to support the bride throughout the wedding planning process. So, whenever the bride-to-be expresses guilt or hesitancy at the cost of some delightful detail, the Matron of Honor should say:

You settled the first time. You're lucky to have a second chance. Do it right.

Then, at the wedding itself, it's the role of the Matron of Honor to get stinkin' drunk on whatever expensive Champagne "doing it right" justified and then to fuck the youngest groomsman out behind the pro shop. It is permissible, though not required, for the Matron of Honor to cry afterwards.

Ask Mrs. Web, Get An Answer From Tom: Advice Column #2

So far so good on the advice column. The first installment got rave reviews and didn't even trigger an anti-Muslim tirade from regular commenter Squidley.  I call that a good day's work.

Today's question comes from Ask Mrs. Web, an Internet-based column of "traditional dating and relationship advice" that badly needs a redesign. Anyway, today's question:

Dear Mrs. Web,

I don't know whether I have made a mistake. I recently purchased an expensive new car and have three years of stiff payments ahead. The car is the only thing stopping me from traveling internationally for a few months. I have always yearned to do this.

Some people tell me that this is the only time in my life I would be able to have an expensive car, because I still live with my parents. Others say that I should have traveled first. I will be 21 in the autumn. I am confused. What would you have done, bought the car or traveled?

Dear Confused,

I would have moved out of my parents' house. What are you, some kind of pathetic looser, driving around town in your Trans Am or whatever it is and then hurrying home to make mommy's curfew? And as for your parents: What's wrong with them, letting you intrude on the few good "empty nest" years before they fall into sexually repulsive disrepair? Take a good look at your mother; she's using you to keep from having sex with your father. Is that a role you're comfortable playing? What did he ever do to you, that you're blocking the few good rolls he still has left in him? And what about your relationship with your mother? Does your vanity plate read "Oedipus"?

As psychologically unattractive as your situation seems to be, congratulations. You've  managed to add a significant other to your life: The Bank. You've locked yourself into payment you can barely afford, which is going to keep you living in mommy and daddy's spare room for the next three years while you pay off the depreciating hunk of rusting steel in the driveway. (I bet you don't even get to park it in the garage, do you? That's reserved for mom's Taurus and dad's Town Car.) The only reason in the world to buy a hot car is to get laid. But consider the type of woman who's likely to find you acceptable after you reveal that it's got to be her place because you live with your mom and dad. Is she worth three years of indentured servitude? The whole picture comes clearly into horrible focus now, doesn't it?

As bad as that picture is, it's going to get worse. Your letter reeks of buyer's remorse. You bought the stupid car and now you think maybe you should have traveled instead. (Travel in the freakin' car, moron!) You'd better make peace with your purchase, because the next thing that's going to happen to you is you're going to start getting credit card come-ons that are the marketing follow-up to taking out an outsized auto loan. You think it's an accident that all that junk mail started arriving a month after you signed your life away? Wrong. The credit card companies have you pegged. They know your type, and they know it's just a matter of time before your tendency to self-indulgence and your yearning to see Paris in the Spring gets you opening those "pre-approved" solicitations and thinking, "What the hell? I'm only young once!"

That's the moment when your life as a free adult ends, and you're heading for it as sure as you're heading to years of therapy over your parental co-dependency.

Credit card companies are lots of things but they're not stupid. Their whole game is luring you into a pile of debt you can't pay off and then jacking up your interest rates to 30%. And, from the looks of things, you're playing happily along with them.

Oh well. You'll always have your memories. And your monthly payments.

I say this as someone who's still paying off restaurant tabs from the 1980s: You're not just confused; you're insane. If you can tolerate living with mommy and daddy, you should use that time to pack the money away. Keep your lifestyle cranked down to starving-college-student levels, turn your Oedipal rage into a wad of ready cash and liberate yourself for the rest of your life. The cost of freedom is low, at your age. Consider the difference between having, say, $25,000 in the bank and $10,000 in credit card debt. Plus, when you get past age 25, financial security will get you laid more than a flashy ride, at least with the kind of women you'd be comfortable taking home to mommy.

               

Tom's New Advice Column

As an experiment, I'm going to start answering people's questions in the blog. Since no one is asking me questions, I'm going to get them from other places. Today's question comes from MSNBC.com.

Q: I have a thorny problem with my wife of 38 years. She is a prude and the thorn is that her mother lives with us. My wife says things like "Wait until she goes to sleep" or "I’m not having sex with you with my mother in the house." Then I get little jealous comments while watching TV such as "Like what you see?" My god woman, I am not dead! Advice?

A: There are really two approaches to this problem. If life were like a porn movie, the obvious action to take your mother-in-law out to lunch, explain your predicament, get a little action under the table and then the two of you go home and and seduce your wife. It's a simple and practical solution, except that the real world doesn't operate like a porn movie.

What you need is a real-world solution, a plan you can implement in a world where people have morals and aren't always in a state of sexual arousal. (Obviously, if you're a United States Senator you don't need to worry about this.) Real-world solutions to problems are almost always more difficult than porn movie solutions. Take, for example, the conflict between Israel and its Arab neighbors. In a porn movie, the Prime Minister of Israel and the Prime Minister of one or the other of the Arab countries would simply go out to lunch. Whichever one of them was a beautiful woman would go down on the other one under the table and the problem would be solved. The title of the documentary about the negotiation would be:

Piece in the Mideast

Since you exist in the real world, you must handle this with the sensitivity often required in non-porn-related human interactions. Take your mother-in-law out to lunch, explain your predicament, and tell her that if she doesn't find her own apartment you're going to have her killed. Make sure that she understands you're serious and -- for the sake of family relations -- offer to help pay for her apartment. Give her two weeks, which is also about how long it will take you to arrange the hit.