Monday, July 24, 2006

YO-YO PARTY GIRL and more of your questions answered by THE CRABBY CRITIC

Dear Crabby:

I’m a 31 year old single mother of two who cannot figure out what everybody else’s problem is with me dressing sexy in public. The other day I went to do some light shopping in my daisy duke’s, halter and high heels and was publicly scowled at from ever direction. I mean, ‘don’t hate me because I’m beautiful’ didn’t even begin to describe the sort of looks I was attracting. I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I’m still young and looking for love. My sister, the prude, thinks I should dress age appropriate. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the way I dress but my sister, who reads you all the time, says she’s right and you’ll prove it. Will you?

Deborah in Philmore

Dear Funky Town Trollop:

On the surface there’s nothing wrong with either of your arguments. But I don’t believe in limiting my remarks to surface banter.

You seem to be under the delusion that just because you’re well endowed others want to ogle you. T’ain’t necessarily so.

Even if you are the cat’s meow sporting someone else’s pajamas, have you considered what will become of all that new found popularity after gravity takes its inevitable toll?

The supermarkets these days are riddled with single middle-aged frumps who used to trip the light fantastic from couch to bedspread and who continue to dress up like twenty-something Loreal Stair-Master crotch jockeys – either, in the desperate hopes that some man (any man) will find them remotely attractive, or under the misguided delusion that hasn’t yet realized the parade of youth has indeed passed them by.

Let us say, for argument argument’s sake that you’re as svelte as silk n’ satin on a Saturday night. That’s still no reason to dress as though every day is a centerfold. Just so that we’re on the same page, the last time I checked, ‘hooker-wear’ was an unflattering form of attire regardless of age and body type.

The problem today isn’t that there aren’t any beautiful women out there in the world; it’s that every common gal in a push up and choker fancies herself cut from the same G-string as an aspiring porn star.

Evidently your look is not a flattering one to most eyes, including the fella who left you high and dry with a couple of kids.

Feminine wiles are supposed to attract – not repel – a guy.

My best advice would be that you reconsider your wardrobe under the auspices of ‘act your age and not your shoe size.’ That doesn’t mean you have to hightail it to the nunnery resale shop to invest in black flats and floor length knickers. But a little reservation will go a long way.

Looking as though you’re bod’s been poured into a sausage casing is emphatically NOT the look of a responsible thirty something mama whose days of man-hunting should have already taken a back burner to her children; her FIRST priority.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

Last weekend I brought a coworker home from a party and we had sex. Ever since she’s been leaving me hints about how great it was and how much she wants to hook up again. Here’s the problem. I have no interest in getting together with her again. But the other day as I walked by the secretary’s office I received looks from a trio of coworkers who clearly heard all about my night in…and not from me. How do I get this woman off my back?

Brian in Lettering

Dear Clueless Office Lothario:

Flip her over onto your stomach.

You know, guys like you genuinely sicken me, because for every idiot boy who thinks he can toy with a woman’s affections and then move on to the next easy target, there’s a decent honest guy looking for genuine commitment who’ll be saddle-bagged with some gal dragging around a Xerox-full of emotional baggage incurred by some fool like you!

If you had no intensions of furthering your relationship with Sally Steno Pool you had NO BUSINESS making triplicates off company time at your place – that is, unless you made it very clear to the woman you were with that you just wanted some diversionary playtime and nothing more.

That you’ve become the brunt of office gossip is a fitting conclusion to your wayward night of misguided passion. At least you know something more about your lady friend now than you did the night you two exchanged bodily fluids – she can’t keep a secret.

I suppose if you’re girth exceeds your common sense at least you don’t have to be worried about becoming an embarrassment inside the men’s executive washroom.

As for becoming the object of other people’s rumors and innuendo
– hey pal, you asked for it.

Not much you can do about it now except fess up and take it like a man.

Squealing post-coital about your lost reputation is as beneficial as walking through a night without candles cursing the darkness.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

My husband is a slob. He leaves his clothes on the floor, doesn’t clean up around the house and doesn’t bathe regularly. I didn’t seem to notice this when we were dating or even during the first few years of our marriage, but now it’s really starting to bug me. How can I get my husband to change?

Jodie in Balboa

Dear Frazzled in Body Odor:

People don’t change
– not because they don’t want to, but generally because they don’t feel a sense or a need that they have to.

Your husband was probably always a slob, only you didn’t choose to see him that way. Maybe you liked the way he treated you as a woman and date or maybe you were all hung up on his looks and his money – but whatever the initial attraction there was, its bloom has worn off.

Reality has at last set in.

It’s been said that there are only two things a woman knows for sure – what she wants and what she’s willing to settle for.

Clearly, you thought you knew what you wanted at the time but aren’t certain you’re willing to settle for what you have right now. That’s a sincere problem and one that you’ll have to contemplate more seriously before making a decision.

Maybe it’s time for a trade-in.

With regards to bathing regularly – that’s just plain disgusting and unsanitary. You shouldn’t have to lie next to someone you already knew was in bed before you even entered the room simply on the layering pungency of his preceding scent. That’s nasty. Want my advice on how to handle that bit of laziness – you start sleeping on the couch.

Tell hubby that reinstatement of your proximity to his bone lazy self is predicated on the assumption and expectation that he will shower from horn to hoof at least once a day.

With regards to getting your man to do more around the house – well, I suppose you could point out the obvious: that a home doesn’t run by itself; that you need and would genuinely appreciate help in all matters that concern you both. I don’t know…maybe your husband will be compassionate and acquiesce to your requests, or maybe he’ll simply turn a blind eye, deaf ear and empty beer can to any and all suggestions that he clean up his act.

At the very least – he has to clean up himself.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

My mom’s a teacher at my school but just before classes got out for the summer she told my father and I that she had decided to embrace a lesbian lifestyle. I was so ashamed. Everyone at school knows the other teacher she’s interested in and my friends are all talking about it. I don’t want to go back to school. My dad says if I have any trouble at school this fall I should come to him and he’ll take care of it. My mother’s moved out of our house to be with her friend. What should I do?

Chelsea in Broadbank

Dear Chelsea:

Let’s be clear about one thing – your mother was always a lesbian.

That she pulled off the illusion and the lie that she was heterosexual long enough to produce a child with your father was a grand experiment gone wrong on her part. But mama always knew which side of the couch her pillows were being fluffed on.

As your mother’s daughter you have nothing to be ashamed of.

True – the kid’s a school might look at you funny for a while but they’ll be more inclined to find fault if you illustrate for them how uncomfortable this situation has made you feel.

Remember this – nobody’s life is perfect.

Some of your friends may have mothers or fathers who are inattentive, abusive or alcoholics. Some may feel unloved and unwanted. You at least have the affections of your father to fall back on in this instance. I can’t begin to understand what all this familial turmoil has done to your own stored fragile sense of self confidence but I can certainly sympathize with your feelings right now.

Have you considered how your father’s coping with this bombshell right now?

You know, it’s oft’ been said that a girl’s best friend is her father.

The fact that yours already told you if trouble is brewing on the horizon you need look no further than him for consolation says to me that dad is good people.

Take him up on his offer.
Rely on him in times of need.
Use him as your crutch, only be there as a crutch for him too, because you both have the scar of mama’s decision to heal from.

You’ve both been given a challenge and an obstacle to overcome. The journey to the other side of happiness will be long, but its not insurmountable.

Now dry your eyes and clear your conscience and go forth with your chin up and head held high. Expect great things and you’ll prove yourself worthy of deserving them.

Your truly,
The crabby critic

@Crabby Critic 2006 (all rights reserved).

Friday, July 14, 2006


…thanks. I won’t…

Your questions answered by
The Crabby Critic

Dear Crabby:

My girlfriend is getting on my nerves. Every time we plan to go out it takes her forever to get ready and when she does she’s still not satisfied with how she looks. Once, I thought I’d kiss her as we were walking on the beach and she said, ‘Don’t. You’ll ruin my lip gloss.’

What gives? I don’t want a mannequin to hang out with. I want a woman. What’s your take?

Harvey in Palm Beach

Dear ‘Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Vain’:

It’s been my experience that most women veer on the side of sadomasochism where fashion is concerned. No other creature on the planet endures a more aggressive litany of consistently applied pain (plucking, waxing, suiting up in girdle and stilettos, various levels of cosmetic surgery, et al.) in the name of vanity – and enjoying every minute of the assault - than women.

I once yanked a wayward hair with a pair of tweezers that was growing above the shaving line on my left cheek and thought I saw visions of the holy virgin. I think I muttered an obscenity or two also.

My point is the self inflicted pain was enough to convince me. I’ve since learned to live with that reoccurring follicle. While it’s true that a certain share of the male population has recently embraced the phenomenon known as ‘metrosexualism,’ this motley troupe of aspiring hairless pretty boys remain a niche market and not the norm.

However, women almost universally apply acrylic varnish to their nails (which damages the natural enamel), reconstituted horse’s hooves to their lips (which is disgusting) and hair dye to their withering scalps (which has been proven to exacerbate the effects of dry scalp, psoriasis and has even been linked to rare forms of cancer)…all in their quest to remain twenty-one forever.

Aside: a fifty-two year old female painted up to mimic a twenty-something circus pony is still a fifty-two year old horsey whose slated herself for the ‘Sands-O-Time’ glue factory.

What I suspect you’ve realized is that the women you’re currently with has adopted and whole-heartedly embraced a level of high maintenance that will eventually consume her – if it already hasn’t.

She won’t change, Harvey.

Not for you or any other male, because she firmly believes in the twisted philosophies of painful beauty. I suppose you could put an ultimatum on the relationship but I suspect that will only strain your patience further and eventually lead to a split. I’m with you on this one, Harv’:

give me a gal who knows her own mind and doesn’t mind a light peck on the lips – even if they’re painted in two-tone Kentucky Derby.

My best advice to you, if you’re absolutely crazy in love with the girl, endure the pain along side her. But remember, you will always be second in line after her vane selfishness to look good. If you can live with that, then I suppose you will.

I only know from personal experience that I would never consider someone my soul mate who thought of Miss Clairol, Redkin, ‘Liz Arden, Revlon, Almay and my affections in that order.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

My daughter has been surfing the net for plastic surgery sites. When asked why, she told me that she was seriously considering breast augmentation and wanted to be better informed. My daughter’s only sixteen.

My wife says not to worry. The urge will pass. My wife has implants and my daughter knows it. I really don’t want my daughter to get breast implants. What should I do?

Chuck in Vancouver

Dear Inflatable & Co.:

There’s a strange dichotomy in your thought process that doesn’t give a hoot if your wife’s cleavage has been packed to maximum density, but emphatically doesn’t want his teenage daughter to share in mummy’s wealth of artificially enhanced womanhood.

My best guess – and it is just that…a guess – is that your wife had her implants before you met and so you had nothing to say on the matter, but didn’t mind enjoying them while you were dating. Now, you have a chance to save another family member from making the same mistakes your wife did – both of them.

My adviceuse this opportunity to instill some constructive thought in your daughter’s noggin, rather than wasting your time attempting to dismantle the misguided determination she has already inculcated to have her chest turned into a pair of floatation devices.

I won’t ask how or why your daughter knows mom’s bongos aren’t real. But your daughter’s not stupid – at least, not on the surface. If she’s been surfing the net and doing other research, I’m sure she’s read about all the side effects and has convinced herself that either they don’t matter or do not apply directly to her situation. Such is the blind faith attached to youthful folly and ignorance.

If I were you, I would rather use your influence to illustrate the point that a woman should never be judged by the endowment of her cleavage, but her inner strength and beauty that are not immediately visible to the naked eye. These are qualities that radiate and permeate the everyday. They are much more valid and ultimately respected by men than a quality rack of perky headlamps – which merely draw immediate…and in most cases, unwanted…attention.

Point out to your daughter that men who desire her for her breasts will never respect, cherish or even consider her as much beyond their personal plaything or sex toy.

All this is a tad difficult for you to do with a straight face because you did marry her mother – big boobies and all. But if you’re serious about preventing your daughter from going under the knife you’ll have to be creative. Assess for her that when you met her mother for the first time it wasn’t her breasts that had you coming back for more.

It was her heart, spirit, mind, intelligence, wit, charm, tenderness, personality, conviction, aspirations, determination and reciprocated love for you that made you decide to slip a ring on her finger.

Finally, impart the wisdom that beauty is only skin deep.
But a quality and enduring life together requires both partners scratch well below the surface.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

I consider myself a heterosexual metrosexual. My family thinks I’m just plain weird. How can I get them to embrace my lifestyle?

Jerry in Toronto

Dear Big City Fluff-Ball:

The new-age definition of a ‘metrosexual’ is a young guy of means and varying sexual preference living in a metropolitan center, but who’s so much in love with himself that he’s managed to create an insular world in which only he reigns supreme as the be-all and end-all of his own pleasure dome.

I much prefer the classical definition: ‘narcissism’ - it is much more accurate in defining those sad and all consuming selfish limited boundaries you’ve constructed for yourself.

Why ‘metrosexual’?

You can love yourself without transforming your image into that of a self absorbed egotist and superficially driven sport n’ shave Ken doll who considers it his greatest achievement to look and smell good on a Saturday night.

I’ve always said there’s only one thing more obvious and socially embarrassing than a woman who’s adopted the ‘don’t hate me because I’m beautiful’ outlook on life...

her male vanity counterpart.

I suspect that what you (and every other metrosexual out there) is trying to emulate is that tough/butch acting, yet slightly effeminate ‘image’ – like that of English soccer sensation, David Beckham who’s inadvertently become the poster child for the movement.

Yet, what most metrosexuals have forgotten is that Beckham isn’t just a pretty face. He’s a major player on the world stage of professional sports. His talents lay elsewhere.

To quote Judge Judy: beauty fades…dumb is forever.

Most metrosexuals are dumb…because they fail to recognize that stars like Beckham have more on their plate than just good looks.

Hence, metrosexualism is fast becoming a movement like 60s ‘mod’ or parodied in the same vein as Elvis and Marilyn Monroe impersonators.

Your family shouldn’t have to ‘embrace’ your lifestyle.
Clearly, you haven’t ‘embraced’ theirs.

They don’t even have to understand your mad drive to be outwardly pretty at the expense of being inwardly shallow.

What they should do – if they’re the right sort of bunch – is tolerate your desire to be different.

But you shouldn’t frown on them for not offering to come over next Friday to help you exfoliate and bikini wax and paint your toe nails ‘businessman blue.’

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

@2006 (all rights reserved).

Friday, July 07, 2006


Dear Crabby:

My boyfriend is not a very good kisser and I don't know if I should tell him. He kisses like we're in a porn or something. Like instead of romantic and slow it's all sloppy and fast. I've never felt so strongly for someone as I do for him. I am also very attracted to him. Sometimes I just stare at him and think...I am one lucky gal to have this hot guy. I don't know I guess although the kissing bothers me I shouldn't really complain. But on the other hand, can I face a life with no romantic kisses?


Dear Covered-in-Saliva:

Define romantic kisses.

Evidently you and your significant other have different views on what constitutes heavy petting with an attitude. Chances are Jo-Studly doesn’t even realize he’s doing something wrong.

You don’t complain.
He keeps going.

The two of you collide like a couple of taxis on Broadway every time and it’s New Years every night of the week.

So how’s a guy supposed to Sherlock that you’re genuinely not into taking a tongue bath in between squeals?!?

Ask most men what turns on a woman and they’ll probably give you suggestions that their significant others’ in secret are thinking…“Oh hell, not that! Not even when I’m sober and with a prescription!”

Trouble is; most women don’t want to hurt their guy’s feelings.

Frankly, when it comes to intimacy, the male ego is as fragile as a China cupid perched dangerous close to the edge of the vanity cabinet. You have to be kind and gentle and move about delicately so as not to bruise or crack the edges.

If you were to come out to your boyfriend with the goods the next time he attempts to plant one on you with something like, “Whoa buster! Roll up that tonsil whacker between your choppers and let’s call it a day,” then your boyfriend would undoubtedly drop you faster than his underwear. Even if the mood wasn’t entirely fractured, he’d have this chronic anxiety building up about every move he makes that would surely make for some clumsy love making. That’s the last thing you want, I suspect.

Now, should you be obligated to tolerate ‘Gushy-Raunch’ from now until the end of time (or, until he moves on to someone who doesn’t mind having their lips Mac-tacked with his mucus)?

Absolutely not!

So, to help you out, here’s an idea. Rent a movie you’ve seen before but that you know he hasn’t; one where there’s some trademark ‘romantic’ kissing that you find really sexy. While you’re watching the flick, lovingly lean into your guy’s shoulder and say something like,

“Now there’s a romantic kiss. Why can’t life be like the movies?”

Whamo! Ring- Ding-ding-dong!

Positive affirmation of what you’re looking for in a great kiss. If he’s the right kind of guy, he’ll try to perfect that method right then and there. He might even replay the tape a couple of times after you’ve gone home just to get his technique down pat. He won’t think you’re disappointed in his technique and his eyes’ll be opened to a new set of possibilities at the same time.

Last bit of advice: having a guy who makes love to you like you’re both in a porno isn’t particularly a ‘bad’ thing so long as you leave your Victorian chastity belt and New England prudery at home. Occasionally, the ‘talk dirty/hurt me’ method has its place, figuratively speaking. But if it’s a stumbling block for one of the partners then the other should be made aware of that fact in a way that will be mutually beneficial to both parties the next time the panty line drops to below the knee.

Bottom line: you mentioned that the guy you’re with is ‘hot.’

Congratulations, but in deference to the laws of gravity – his hotness won’t last forever. So decide now if what’s underneath those firm pecs and tight buns is worth sticking around for – sloppy kisses and all. Otherwise, it maybe time to simply change partners again.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

What do you do when someone you love stops loving you?

Chelsea in Idaho Falls

Dear Chelsea:

Move to Wisconsin.

No, seriously – regretfully, and as painful as it may be to hear, move on.

As a rule, men don’t fall for the “I’ll change and I know you still love me” scenario: chiefly because we wrote the manual and recognize how superficial it is.

Having stated that, I also have to reply that begging with a set of doleful cow eyes has been known to win a woman’s affections on more than a handful of occasions. Some psychologists say it’s because women are more trusting.

I would argue it’s because they’re more gullible and often, more desperate.

The guy you lost…you wouldn’t want him back if you knew he was just doing it because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings, would you?

You want and deserve a man who genuinely can’t get you out of his mind morning, noon and night…and all the times in between. You want someone to whom you mean the world and not just a way to pass the time. You don’t want someone trying to entertain your affections. You want someone who you clearly recognize is entertained by yours.

This man – whoever he is – no longer finds you entertaining. He won’t change his mind.

In fact, if you choose to pursue him, he’ll probably bolt like a pony over the nearest fence and into some other pasture far, far away. If you must part company (and I think that in this case – YOU MUST) then part as friends. You’ll both be better off in the long run.

Yours truly
The crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

I need a reality check. I caught my husband cheating on me again with his secretary. He fired the last one because I told him to, but this one’s prettier than the last one and now she’s with him. I’m tired of all the @#)$#@)! But my husband says that monogamy isn’t the way life’s supposed to be and that I should consider counseling. What do you think?

Emma in New York

Dear Zero-Esteem:

You don’t need a reality check. You need 8X10’s of every gal he’s been with since you said ‘I do’ and a light smack upside the head with a good piece of wood. Counseling?!?

The only moron in need of a couch is your philandering fruit loop of a husband.

He’s quite correct when he says that monogamy wasn’t always a way of life. Neanderthals slept with any and every long-haired toothless babe that passed them by. They also clubbed theirs and dragged them off to out of the way places by the back of their hair.

See my point…
the times – they are a’changin’!

Remind your husband that you live in a culture that supports monogamous – generally speaking.

You had him fire his original secretary? You’re lucky she didn’t press sexual harassment charges. Then again, maybe she should have!

Get a clue, Emma.

It doesn’t matter what Barbie you put in front of this man – he’ll always find a way to adapt as her sport n’ shave Ken doll.

I think I’m safe in assuming that you’re not married to Mr. Fidelity.

But I would argue that you’re not even married to a real man…just a pig who enjoys his swill from a roving trough…and what do you expect from a pig but a grunt?!?

Of late, there have been some warped psycho-therapy babblings about something called ‘poly-fidelity’ whereby the psychologists in support of this theory report that a man or woman can be faithful to more than one partner simultaneously. They discuss time sharing and refer to a litany of historical texts to back everything up.

Okay, that’s a theory. So’s Marxism.
The practical application of either has been far more complex and far less satisfying to all parties concerned.

Your Johnny Knocker isn’t going to change, Em.

You can have him fire this secretary too. You can even have him hire a male secretary as her replacement. Your man will find a way. The girl at the coffee counter, the babe from accounting, a couple of low rent hookers who’ll provide the diversion cheap and leave him with some nasty stuff he’ll be bringing home to you and your kids.

Question: How sexy is that?!?
Answer: Not very!

It may be his Johnson that keeps getting thrown into the crap game but it’s your well being that one day will come up ‘snake eyes’. Want my advice?

Pack your man’s bags right now and leave them at the front door. Consult an attorney on how best to proceed with a divorce. You’ve gone beyond the stage of ‘we can patch things up.’

It’s time to cut hubby a new hole – one that will leave him wishing he’d never decided to thread his needle in another sewing machine.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

@2006 (all rights reserved).

Sunday, July 02, 2006


...and other questions answered by
the crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

I'm 24 and my Mom won't let me go out. I still live at home because I took out maximum loans for grad school. I do have a job but it simply does not pay enough. My girlfriends and I were planning a girls' night out tonight and my Mom was all "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go into the city to a nightclub with just girls." Then she asked why I want to dance with girls all night and if my boyfriend knows that I'm going. Geez, I'm not married and yes he does know that I'm going.Crabby, what should I do? Her control over me is driving me crazy.from Carrie

Dear Old Enough to Know Your own Mind:

Having your own cash doesn’t make you independent

…that is, unless you’re footing the bills and supporting your gray-haired old ma’ besides. Anything less and – sorry to say – you are NOT your own person: just a glorified kid with a bank account and the stubborn willpower to do whatever pops into your noggin at that particular moment.

There’s an old cliché you may have heard of. It begins with “…as long as you live under my roof…”

Bottom line: it’s called seniority and ma’ will always have it. If you’re not particularly keen on your mother’s advice or the limitations as set out by the matriarchy of the maison, then perhaps it’s time to start house/apartment hunting for digs that will be more conducive to your own laissez faire attitude.

Word to the wise: the more independent you become – the less independent you are to indulge in whatever free-wheeling badinage comes your way. It’s hard to sustain yourself if you’ve spent the rent check on boozin’ and ballin’ at the local watering hole.

Now, just to show you I’m not unsympathetic to your feelings of maternal oppression – at 24 I don’t particularly find it unreasonable that you should ask for a night out with ‘the girls’ and your boyfriend – provided your entourage isn’t doing anything that’s illegal or immoral. Perhaps you are the victim of Mommie Dearest – but I doubt it. Moreover, your mother is probably suffering from maternal concerns for circumstances and people you feel perfectly safe around. You see, just because you can count to ten and drive yourself to the corner store doesn’t mean that you’ve stopped being your mother’s child.

When you have children of your own (preferably NOT out of wedlock, and, once you’ve already established a place of your own that can sustain a husband and kids), you’ll understand that the maternal instinct doesn’t have an expiration date tattooed on the child’s butt that reads “Eighteen and out!”

Your mother loves you very much
– YES.

I also think it’s fair to assume she doesn’t want you locked in a convent.

You need a little room to breathe
– I’ll buy that.

So here’s how I would handle things.

If I were you, I’d approach your mother and say something like, “I mean no disrespect. But I don’t think one night out with my friends will classify me as a chronic bar fly. I don’t intend to make this a habit but I need a break. I promise not to indulge in any behavior that would embarrass myself in public or dishonor our family name. You brought me up right and I intend to respect us both. But I need this break, and I’m sure others as well sometimes, so this is how I would like to spend that time away.”


Go – dance, drink and celebrate.

But come home sober at a respectable hour and with your underwear on the same way as it was when you left the house.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

Dear Crabby:

I’m a 34 yr old lesbian who’s having second thoughts. I thought I was gay but now I’m not sure. I like this guy…I think…and I’d like to ask him out. What should I do?

Cheryl in Wisconsin

Dear Socially Bored:

The good news is you’re not sexually confused!

Before we get started I’ll just state for the record that I’m not a big fan of bisexualism. I respect that some people are heterosexual and others are not. But flip-flopping between the sexes isn’t a choice – it is indecision working overtime.

Question: is it that you’ve had a nasty break up with a girlfriend or bad sexual experiences with women that have made you want to swear off of them for a while?

I’m a firm believer that people are born one way or the other. Regardless of which side your bread is buttered on, you don’t just wake up one morning 34 years after the fact and say – “Gee, I changed my mind. I’m straight.”

Not unless you were never genuinely gay to begin with.
(Aside: Anne Heche would fall into this latter category, if you ask me.)

It’s just an opinion, and since you’ve asked for mine I’m offering it herein. There must have been something that attracted you to women in the first place all of those many years ago. You claim to be having second thoughts now. That’s natural.

Everyone wanders from their conventions now and then. But you’ve identified yourself as a 34 yr old lesbian.

That says to me that you’re still not willing to dump your queer sisterhood and whole-heartedly embrace a heterosexual lifestyle. Nor should you consider that an option.

You see, Cheryl. I suspect that your current ambivalence stems not from sexual confusion but because you’ve become bored with your circumstances. Perhaps you’re not attracted to any women in your neighborhood or have found the lesbian scene in general has grown stale.

I have news for you – heterosexual women get that same feeling for the dating scene where men are concerned from time to time – as do gay men for other gay men or heterosexual men for straight women.

But that doesn’t mean (to misquote Fred Astaire) that everyone simply changes partners to dance!

Every now and then this social hiccup and frustration occurs within these same variables whereby the people involved say to themselves “To hell with men/women/etc. I’m swearing off them for a bit because I’m tired – of being rejected, being put upon, not finding the right one, being dumped…etc.”

The point is – that pendulum usually swings the other way after a brief hiatus from the fray.

To involve an unsuspecting heterosexual male in a relationship with you - that you may also tire of one sunny day not too far off in the future - would be criminal on your part.

Because, as of now, you still see yourself as a 34 yr old lesbian!!!

You haven’t sworn off of women.

You’re not even solid on your feelings for this guy you mentioned…‘I think’.

So, here’s a thought. Why not try to procure a lesbian date from a different city or town. Why not explore the scene in a fresh setting: because in the final analysis a change of locale is infinitely more rewarding than a change of partner.

Now, go out and dance to your own beat.

Yours truly,
The crabby critic

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