My Two Cents: Zip it de doo, ma ed.

Dear Prudie,
My husband and I have been together for about six years (second marriage for both of us). We each have children from our first marriages and the kids get along perfectly. My daughter (18) and my husband's son (16) are especially close. My daughter told me that her stepbrother might be gay! I asked her why she thought that, and she told me the signs: He hangs out with gay guys at school; loves to shop (according to her, he has awesome taste in clothing); has no interest in dating girls; doesn't want children; wants to go into design or theater; and has to have his face perfectly soft and whisker-free.

I told her that doesn't make him gay, but she then told me about a girl at his school who e-mailed her to say she thought her stepbrother was hot, but it was too bad he was gay. I was in shock, but thought it could be true. When I told my husband about my daughter's suspicions, he was so shocked that he refused to talk to me the rest of the evening. I told my husband I didn't mean to hurt him, but that went nowhere. Is it possible for a 16-year-old boy to be gay or bisexual? What are the signs? If he is, what do we do? My husband is against gays all the way.

—Concerned Stepmother

Dear Mommy Queerest:

Madam, it is highly perverse for a woman of your age to speculate about the fellating habits of your pre-age of consent stepson, if any. Sick, sick, sick. Frankly, MTC is far more intrigued with the fellating habits of your (of age) 18 year old daughter, since you raised the subject. Why don’t you discuss THAT with your husband and see if he has a problem with it. Fair's fair, ya know.

And let’s not be coy. Fellatio is the only thing you and your husband are really concerned about. No teenage boy ever got his ass beat and kicked out of the house just for having good fashion sense.

Your speculation may not be baseless, but it is worse than needless. The kid’s sexuality is something he’s working out right now and he doesn’t need any freaking help from you, lady. Not after demonstrating such an abject lack of good sense and good manners by shoving a lit road flare up the ass of the elephant in the living room. He’s not anything yet, and probably nothing permanent at the age of 16. And if he is committed to the YBR, there's nothing you can really do about it anyway.

All you can do is make him more miserable and conflicted than he may already be, and nobody needs that, whatever side they lean to. If you must take a shot at keeping the boy on the straight and hetero for religious reasons, hire him a hellaciously good whore. It’s like making sure your kid goes to Mass on Sunday—it might not stick, but at least they know what’s out there.

But you probably won’t do that. So instead, stay out of it and try to keep your husband out of it as well. Kinda late now, though, blabbermouth. Consider the fact that if you keep badgering your homophobic fool of a husband about it, you’ll only get him pissed off. He’s going to get shitty with people, starting with his own son. Next, will be you for bringing up this situation, if indeed there is a situation.*

Third, he’s going to blame your 18 year old daughter. Why? Simple. Who the hell do you think got his precious son interested in dick? Hmmmm?
--------------------------------------------------
* Noting the fact that it could only be a “situation” if you idiots insist on making it a situation instead of just accepting the kid for whoever he turns out to be. Guess what?

Dear Prudence,

I have been married for six months. My husband is a good man; he treats me great and never hesitates to tell me how much he loves me. I love him, too, but am not in love with him. I guess I got married because I felt like I was not getting any younger and finally, after years of dating losers, found a man who was good all around. Now, the love of my life has come back. We broke up a few years ago when he was having some problems. He is on the right track to cleaning up his life and wants me back in it. He does tell me he loves me, but I don't think he does as much as my husband does. However, I am certain about my feelings. My question to you is, do I follow my heart and go with the guy who has been unpredictable in the past but who still makes my heart flutter, or do I follow my head and stay with the stable guy who I know loves me but that my heart is not fluttering for?

—Heart or Head

MySpace

Dear Crawl-Very-Slowly-Away Bride:

No, this isn’t a head versus heart conflict, really. You’re just trying to calculate whether you’d be better off with a boring dependable person or with a bona fide “heart” flutterer. If that’s what you want to call it. Around here, we refer to another organ to describe what's all afluttered with you.

Resolving this issue properly will require that you do something you’ve never done before—look at something from somebody else’s angle. From your husband’s perspective, he doesn’t need to waste years of his life devoting himself to some nit wit who secretly prefers to have her “heart” fluttered by some other rooster. Don’t feel bad about ditching him—he’ll get somebody better suited to him than you in no time because of the sympathy factor. You know how some women love to take in abandoned pets.

Second, from the LOYL’s perspective, it’s hard finding a woman that will put up with the bullshit and drama that comes with dudes who are “on the right track to cleaning up” their lives. There’s got to be a mighty big portion of heart fluttering to get you through those trials and tribulations. You are probably one of the few women around who would find it worthwhile to deal with him. Plus, you’d spare some less dingy chick the trouble of hooking up with a dude like that.

Speaking of the other ladies…third, there are plenty of women out there who could use a man like your husband. You need to toss him back in the lake like an undersized perch. Most other women have little use for a dude “on the right track to cleaning up his life.” They need somebody already cleaned and pressed. Starched, too, if they can find one. Like your husband.

Oh, and as for you, getting a divorce would work out pretty well, probably. But even if it doesn’t, and you end up bitter and alone, at least three other distinct persons or groups will be far better off. Now, isn’t that well worth taking a risk?

Dear Prudence,

I am currently taking a class with a star young professor who is dangerously overweight, to the point that I'm fairly certain he will have major health problems and die at an earlier age. I don't know him well, but this has already happened to a friend of mine, and I wouldn't want it to happen to my professor.

Is there a polite way to tell him that he needs to lose weight? Though he's an academic star, he has a really good rapport with the students, but that doesn't make it any easier to bring up a topic like this. I feel like I'm watching a train wreck about to happen that I'm powerless to stop.

—Don't Like Train Wrecks

Dear Student Teacher Circumference:

Train wreck, huh? Your “slow motion train wreck” threshold is mighty low. Usually, you need three or more of the following items in order to qualify a person as a “train wreck”: substance addiction; unemployment; a relationship break-up; a conviction; ED; living in a basement; psychotic episodes; repressed rage; and multiple gun ownership. Being a fat ass hardly qualifies. Now, if you catch him hiding bottles of Jack Daniels around his office, you may have something to go on.

In the meantime, you need a more direct relationship with somebody before you can start giving them health advice. Student/professor is a professional relationship. It doesn’t become personal until there’s been some groping after a drunken student/faculty BBQ or he’s done some of your drugs.

If the prospect of his dropping dead of fattiness is too painful for you, by all means, date him or blow a joint with him after class. Once you’ve broken that ice, you are certainly close enough to suggest he lose weight. Besides, then you can threaten to withhold sex from him unless he does lose weight. Just put him on a tread mill and run in front of him while wearing a lycra body suit. It’s the least you could do to stop a train wreck.

Or you could look at him as an adult who understands better than you ever will how much it sucks to be overweight. Whatever his academic field, he’s got a Ph.d in Fat Ass. That realization might cause you to just keep your health advisory to yourself—even if you did just watch another fat dude buy the fat farm. It’s not as embarrassing to be called out as fat when you’re hugely obese as it is to be treated like you are too dumb to understand your own predicament.

Dear Prudie,

When I was 21, I got engaged to a wonderful guy. We didn't get married, and I haven't seen or spoken to him in two years. I'm now 26. I loved him, but I came to feel I hadn't lived my own life yet and felt trapped by coupledom. When I started pulling away from the relationship, he was incredibly hurt. In the end, he broke it off.

One thing bothers me more than anything: My family loved him and he loved them. My mom was horribly upset when we started to separate and when he eventually left. If I even try to talk about it, she cries before three words are out of my mouth. I felt then, and still feel now, incredible guilt, like I'm responsible for her pain.

It would be so much easier if he'd been a jerk and I could have had a good enough reason for not being with him. How can I get past this guilt so I can be happy?

—Single and Guilty

Dear Unwed Mother In Law:

If your mom liked this dude so damned much, she ought to marry him. Otherwise, WTF? Fortunately, you didn’t let her hypnotize you into marrying before your time, but she almost did. What a freaking disaster that would have been. You would have ended up divorced, maybe after years of unhappiness, and he would have ended up with custody of your mother.

Hmmmmmm…..there's an idea.

But instead, you backed out at an appropriate time. I.e., not like the above doofus. Now, all you have to do is dis-empower Guiltenstein’s Monster from making you feel bad about it.

This woman obviously has enjoyed a lot of success manipulating you with gross emotional displays. But as with other dark arts such as voodoo, mother-tripping is only as powerful as you let it become. Granted, it’s a cold-hearted person who can’t be twisted around his or her mother’s manipulative little finger. But when the old bat’s manipulation gets out of hand you have to take measures.

Step one, stop talking about it. If the breakup is so painful to her, maybe you ought to just zip it. Duh. If she can’t contain her woe and brings it up, tell her you don’t want to discuss it. If she persists, ratchet up your response up to and including turning the game (or whatever it is you watch when you’re at your mother’s house) up real loud.

With sufficient determination and practice, you’ll soon be able to look right at her during her rants, nod your head at the appropriate time, answer her with non-committal grunts, and never hear a word she says or break your original train of thought. It’s what men call “mommy deafness.”

My Two Cents: Odd Couples, ed.

DEAR MARGO:
I have been married for 18 years. Around year 10, my husband started going to nudist beaches and clubs. The beaches were not too bad because he only did it when he was out of state, but now he goes to a club that's only an hour away.
I trust him and know it is not sexual, but it's embarrassing to me. I also don't like that he tells everyone he knows that he does this. The way I was raised, you were naked when you took a bath, or when you were married and in bed. I just don't understand why swimming, camping and other activities -- which he never enjoyed before -- seem like fun to him when he is naked.

I know he could be doing really awful things other than this, but isn't anything that causes stress in a marriage a bad thing? We also have two children, and I don't want them to think it's appropriate to be seen naked because I fear that a predator will take advantage of them.

I do not let him take the kids to these clubs, but they are 10 and 13, so they're aware of Daddy's hobby. I cannot just tell him to stop, because he would not stop and we would fight. I know this from experience.

Here's my question: Is being naked in public normal, or just a way of being a Peeping Tom and also being peeped at? I think it's the latter.

--- NOT NAKED AND FINE THAT WAY

Dear Nudely Wed:

Oh, yes, they call him the Streak
He likes to show off his physique
If there's an audience to be found
He'll be streakin' around
Invitin' public critique

R. Stevens, The Streak

Simple nudism, as opposed to aggravated ‘nad flashing, comes in at an ironically modest 1.8 out of 10 on the ol’ Creep-0-Meter, (10 being OJ territory). Even nude clubbing is more of a peccadillo than a fetish. Certainly the Europeans don’t seem to view public nudity as weird, though the Euro-Creep-0-Meter works on an entirely different scale (thanks to the Dutch, those weirdos). Lots of otherwise normally functioning folks strut their stuff in the buff, so maybe you ought to just get over it.

As for the Peeper/Peepee angle, get serious-- there’s sure to be some of that going on. If men and women are breathing, they’re checking each other out. Whether they’re wearing clothes hardly enters into it. Frankly, for people over age 40, broad daylight nudity probably prevents more monkey business than it stimulates.

What’s the attraction if not le hanky panky? MTC had one quasi-public nudism experience at venerable Black’s Beach near San Diego. Truth be told, there is a certain exhilaration that comes from salty ocean breezes and golden rays of sunshine caressing one’s nethers. But it isn’t sexual—more like a nostalgia for the ‘terrible two’s’. The reality of those nude beaches is that whatever stiffening resolve one might acquire watching women play volleyball naked is more than blotted out by the single glimpse of an 85 year old scaly-ass hippie riding a Schwinn (with a banana seat no less) holding up both his beard and his nutsack so they won’t get tangled in the chain. Yikes.

Ain’t it interesting, though, that of all the peccadilloes your husband could acquire, it happened to be one specifically designed to twist your woolen covered titties something fierce. He’s striking a mighty, if largely passive aggressive, blow against your Puritans Gone Wild attitude. Lucky for you, he’s only hanging out with nudists. He might have rebelled with a full blown fetish. Those can cost real money and involve him with folks scoring in the upper “5’s” on the Creep-0-Meter, like the spanking crowd (i.e., Sorority of the Crimson Moon).

Although, come to think of it, that’s a hobby that’s probably right up your alley.

DEAR MARGO:

As the mother of a 15-year-old girl who has already battled an eating disorder, I am at a loss as to what to do or say about her so-called "role models," many of whom are models. My daughter reads the fashion magazines as though they were bibles for living.

What are your thoughts on this subject, and do you have any suggestions about how I might be able to redirect her interests? She is a very good student, but is all caught up in the idea of modeling, not my idea of a particularly worthwhile calling.

--- NANCY

Dear No Moss, por favor:

Mamma, don't let your babies grow up to be fashion models. Having rented Gia too many times, worry-warting is causing you to miss the larger point. As long as her dream isn’t to sign up with Ansar Al Islam and score seventy virgins the hard way, don’t worry about the specifics.

What’s important for any 15 year old is to learn how to follow a dream, period. Modeling is a tough business and it’s got its dangers, but so does pursuing every other dream career, including athletics, politics and high level drug trafficking.

Following dreams is a process. The earlier she goes through the process (from conception, through the work and sacrifice stages, to ultimate failure and reconfiguring a more realistic dream), the more likely that she will acquire perseverance as a character quality. Then she'll achieve something worthwhile. It might not be top flight modeling. It might only be trophy spousing or porn stardom. It will be an achieved dream, nonetheless.

But if you crush her first little dream now because of your fears, she might never learn that process. You're taking chances with her self esteem, self esteem seems to have been a major issue with her. She’s going to need plenty of self esteem for whatever goal she sets. Operating on the basis of fear, particularly fear of failure is a really rotten principle to instill in a kid.

Don’t freak. Chances are her dreams of modeling will go unrealized before she ends up on a slab or in the mad house. If you’re worried about rekindling eating disorders, focus on that behavior, not her goal setting. Besides, heroin addiction is all the rage among models, not eating disorders. Geez. Lighten up.

DEAR MARGO:

Four years ago, I divorced "Ken" when he admitted that he had molested a daughter from his previous marriage. His problems with clinical depression, porn addiction, chronic lying and so on did not seem religiously acceptable reasons for divorcing. The molestation was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Ken and I had a 2-year-old son, "Johnny," at that time. Ken was never an attentive father and, in fact, several times Johnny ended up in the emergency room due to Ken's inattentiveness and neglect. I had talked with counselors, clergymen, even child protective services because of the "accidents," but they all told me to stick it out with Ken and get counseling. After I found out about the sexual abuse, I felt I had to leave Ken to protect Johnny.

Fortunately, Ken has moved to the Orient and contacts Johnny once or twice a year. My problem is that Johnny, now 6, is asking questions about why I divorced Ken. I can only assume this is because of some things he's seen on television lately, and the fact that my new husband and I recently celebrated our anniversary with much family discussion about love and relationships. (My new husband is a wonderful stepfather to Johnny, thank God.)

Johnny is persistent in his questioning and even goes so far as to say, "I want to know all the reasons you and Daddy divorced." I don't want to lie to Johnny, nor do I want to cause him unnecessary pain thinking that his heritage is from a pedophile. What can or should I tell him?
--- CONCERNED MOM

Dear Mom’s the Word:

Moved to the Orient did he? Out Thailand way, perhaps? Geesh.

Four years is plenty ‘nuff time to stop wearing your victimhood on your sleeve. Eventually, you made a good call, and things seem to have worked out just peachy for you and the child. Don't blame yourself-- those clinically depressed, dissembling serial masturbators can be so wickedly charming.

Yet, the first four paragraphs of your letter are about justifying a four year old divorce. Nobody needs to hear about your sordid and perverse marital baggage. doodahman and his readers might get a giggle over it, but need to hear it? Nope. This is a lot truer for a six year old kid. Forget about the molestation—even the tidbits about the porn, the lying and the depression are way too heavy to lay on a child. Hello.

The “I don’t want to lie to my six year old” canard is ridiculous. Parents avoid disturbing and complicated topics when explaining things to kids all the time. Oh, but not you--"Santa is a fraud I tells ya!" It’s not like a six year old is going to be suspicious if you leave out any reference to pedophilia, fahcrissakes. “Johnny” (if that IS his real name) is not going to interrogate you until you break. Just tell him what most six year olds hear: daddy and step-daddy couldn’t be happy sharing mommy, so daddy had to go.

Oh, and if none of the above rationales moves you to keep mum, consider the fact that once you start flinging the mud, your ex is going to fling it right back. Sure, maybe you think you were beyond reproach and there are no skeletons in your closet. That's not going to stop a a chronic liar from telling the lad about your earlier predilection for amorous liaisons with barnyard critters of the four legged variety, is it?

DEAR MARGO:

My wife just lectured me about perusing the contents of her purse when it was lying on the kitchen table. She was offended that I'd peek inside it. However, she has not had the same feeling for my privacy. She thinks nothing of examining the History contents of the computer. Am I missing something here, or does she have a double standard?

--- DAVID

Dear Spy vs. Spy:

Sounds like Old Man Beatoffski has a chip on his shoulder after getting busted for accessing some PC erotica while the missus was at bridge. Well, sir, if you were fastidiousness enough to use a protective plastic keyboard cover to keep the keys from sticking, she might never have thought to look. Never ride a keyboard bareback, my man.

This is exactly why marriage sucks for most folks. In theory, married folks share everything—there can be no secrets in a happy marriage. A married couple is supposed to be a single entity, two lives utterly entwined. Uh huh, riiiiiiiiiiiiight. In reality, marriage is two people who, a good portion of the time, desperately want to do something their spouse doesn’t like.

It’s a pattern we learn while keeping things from our parents. For instance, you, apparently, like masturbating to digital pictures of Scandinavian women playing Naked Twister. Your wife likes to spend your 401K to buy Precious Moments. Neither of you wants to cut the other any slack, so you generate this bullshit privacy issue. Forget it.

You can bicker endlessly about who’s invading space, or you can come to the simple realization that if you have to hide things from each other, married life will suck. Either you agree to accept whatever the other one does, or you agree to stop doing whatever you get in trouble for. If need be, negotiate a solution using both options on a case by case basis. The short term pain of having to trade off high credit card costs for a little jerk off time will pale in comparison to the lifetime of bullshit you have in store from hiding shit from each other.

To illustrate: years ago, doodahman scored some woman’s phone number while getting plastered in a Mexican night club. The next morning, while he was passed out, Mrs. doodahman snooped through his wallet and threw the number away. That caused the weirdest damn fight in eleven years of marriage. They were both mad as hell, but neither could say what it was they were mad about because doodahman never should have gotten the number and Mrs. doodahman wasn’t supposed to rifle his wallet. Because nobody would say what they knew, the fight lasted for about two and a half weeks. Ain’t marriage grand?

My Two Cents: Wee Willy Winky ed.

Dear Prudence:

I have a new boyfriend who is generous, fun, kind, gentle, and very loving. We rekindled after several years apart and didn't break up badly the first time. I like him and I could possibly see a life with him. The problem is that he isn't well-endowed; well below average, in fact. I knew this before we rekindled, but thought I could look past it. I'm not a size queen, but I really would like to enjoy a fuller sex life, so to speak. I would never mention this to him, because I would never want to hurt his feelings. I realize this is not the most important part of life, but I really want to have a satisfying sex life along with everything else. Any suggestions on how to get over this issue?

—Coming Up Short

Dear Short Change?:

Scientifically speaking, the issue is stated:

How may one achieve an “adequate sex life” without resort to a human schlong meeting minimal specs of at least 4″ long and 4″ circumference (or, a net 64.4 cubic inches)?

This, sir or madam, is where the rubber meets the… road. First, realize that millions of folks enjoy long, satisfying sex their entire lives without ever even touching somebody’s penis. They are called “straight men” and “lesbians.” Adapting their pleasuring techniques will give you two all sorts of ways to get over the hump, as it were.

Remember that your partner’s penis constitutes only one small tool in the ol’ sexual tool box. Er, let’s find a better analogy… Sex is like a team sport, and a person’s body is like a team, with each member filling a specialized niche. Ahem. As with baseball, no single member of the team is responsible for winning or losing games—not even somebody critical as, say, the short reliever. A good manager wins by milking production out of his entire rooster, uh...roster. Your friend has a tongue, ten fingers, and a brain taking the field that, if used properly, will make you forget that his short reliever can’t close. Expect to win more if his team runs the bases better, turns more double plays, and bunts consistently. They call it “small ball.”

Ultimately, he’ll have to re-arrange the line-up, perhaps moving his fingers to lead off and his tongue into the clean-up spot. As a short term improvement while your friend masters the new play book, he can convert the short reliever into a linebacker and use him to penetrate your backfield. As a linebacker, you can instill confidence in him by focusing on his sacks. Sorry to mix metaphors, but dang, MTC’s kid reads this.

Even with all that, you might come up short. Seems that some folks just need a big old johnson jammed up their chute in order to get to that certain magical space. If that’s you, then you are a size queen. There’s no shame in it since nobody decides what turns them on as much as they discover it through trial and error-- this dude looking more like an "error."

If his Little Red Riding Hood still can't fill the basket with enough goodies to please Grandma ("What a big basket you have, grandma!"), that's all there is to it.You'll either have to find someone else, someone "too", or invest in prosthetic devices. Don't expect MTC to provide any links. If you are too cheap to buy proper materials, visit your local produce department and always wash your vegetables.

Prudence,

My wife and I taught at a high school in the Southwest for three years. It has been a year and half since we last worked there and we still occasionally receive e-mails from students. A few days ago, we received one that contained a link to a MySpace-like Web site. One of the pictures on her page showed two other students, one holding what looks like an AK-47 and one pointing a handgun at the camera. The school we taught at had trouble in the past with guns (one student brought a loaded gun to my class and later killed himself) and gangs. My thought was to e-mail the superintendent the link to the Web site. Do I have any legal obligations to report this, and if so, to whom? I would like to know what I need to do legally to stay on the right side of the law.

—Concerned Teacher

Dear Pre-emptive Teacher’s Strike:

First off, don’t ever ask legal questions like that except to an actual lawyer who knows the laws in your state, or, if applicable, states. “doodahman said I could” ain’t a valid legal defense any place against any thing. Surely you would tell somebody if you thought this was a serious threat, regardless of the litigation angle, right? No? “Gosh, I knew those kids would go on a murdering rampage, but who needs the hassle of a lawsuit?” Dang.

Well, Batman, have no fear. MySpace and their ilk are public documents which have no privacy protections. You can’t get sued for pointing out a publicly accessible website to the authorities. Hell, the authorities like nothing better than busting folks on suspicion of conspiracy to commit something. It gives them a reason to put on cammies and terrorize folks with loudspeakers, strobes, chemical agents and, agency budgets permitting, napalm-spewing tanks. There is no weapon or firepower that the authorities will not use in order to stop violence and keep the peace. Just ask David Koresh.

Oh wait, you can’t.




Hysterics aside, a picture of a kid with a gun is not the same as a picture of a kid with an adult’s yoohoo up his keester. The latter is a crime in an of itself; the former is not without further indication of criminal intent. At least send the student a WTF note. If her answer raises more concerns, you’ll still have an opportunity to report.

You don’t want to end up looking like the hysterical fanatics we all looked like after invading a country over weapons that apparently weren’t even there. Just ask 30,000-600,000 or so Iraqi men, women and kids.

Oh wait, you can’t.

Dear Prudence,

My 18-month-old daughter has mild cerebral palsy, and while I would change nothing about her, I am loath to make this news public. She does not walk yet, but she is just starting to crawl. We don't want advice or special attention, as this is a big enough hurdle. While we believe in explaining her situation to family, we see no reason to make it a public issue when it truly is so mild and when we have been so blessed just to have her. She is a smart child with a brain issue that causes her to have physical impairment. What she is capable of, no one knows yet—but her neurologist believes she will turn out to just be a "clumsy kid" who has to work a little harder. We attend church and only one or two families are aware of the label of her condition, and I just don't know what to tell the rest. How long can we call our daughter a delayed walker? We appreciate the concern, but we don't want the special prize that goes with the label.

—Label Me With Love.

Dear Mongoloid Beef:

Stop worrying about what goes on in other people’s heads. First you worry about what people will think if you tell them she has CP and then you worry what about what they’ll think if you say nothing. Whose business is it to begin with? Her doctors, you, and maybe the schools’ and government’s if they are willing to provide some services or other assistance on that basis. Other than that, labels have no meaning at all and you don’t owe anybody any explanations.

True, you will encounter a doofus who just has to ask why the child isn’t doing this or that. Just say, “she’ll do [this or that] whenever she’s ready” and leave it at that. That’s as correct and complete an answer as there is.

This is only an issue because you are way too defensive. You worry that because she's so "border-line" people might assume she's "retarded"-- which is sort of an ungracious attitude for a person whose child is also disabled. Labeling her CP also takes you off the hook by laying it on an unfortunate turn of genetics, not being a crackhead when you were pregnant. That’s kinda ugly, since the logical solution is to make her wear a button that says, “Don’t Blame My Parents It’s Cerebral Palsy.” You’re not alone—it happens to the high and mighty, too.


Well, that’s an understandable reaction; it must be very hard to sort out your feelings that are naturally conflicted when your child suffers from a disability. Of course you’re happy with her and consider her an blessing and, of course you’re sad that she may have to overcome some disability. That’s normal and it goes without saying. It’s the parents of kids who are developmentally advanced but who behave like idiots that need to answer some questions.

Dear Prudence,

I am a 25-year-old woman who's been in a relationship with a man for about six years. He is halfway through graduate school and I have just started law school. I have always provided unconditional support and encouragement in his career choices. I have even sacrificed my own emotional needs at times. Lately there has been a lot of friction when I make decisions based upon my school responsibilities. Now that I am under similar pressures, he is unwilling to recognize the importance of my studies. He is financially supportive, but is still putting his needs and career goals first. How do I make him see that my career is just as important as his? Furthermore, how do I request the same support I have given him over the years?

—I Count Too

Dear No Merry Maison:

Man, you are going to make one hell of an advocate if you have to ask an advice columnist how to protect even your own interests. “Dear Prudence: what should I do when another attorney won’t convince his client to give my client the money we think he’s entitled to?” In which case, your SO may have a point—focus on his career because yours doesn’t look so promising.

Here’s why MTC can’t help much: doodahman has never figured out how to make women do something they didn’t want to do just because he wanted it. Not one thing, not ever. The days are long gone when a man could make his wife do whatever he wanted, beat her senseless in the process and then brag about it at church. These days, men have to use persuasion, employing techniques that women, having previously been on the subservient side of the equation, have long mastered. Except you, apparently. Geesh, if you can’t even figure out how to be a woman, how do you expect to figure out how to be a lawyer?

Persuasion comes in three forms: inducements, threats, and propaganda. Inducements are best because they can lead to the classic “win-win” scenario—he lets you stay out late all week to make the study group if you shave your pubes and wear that Vampyra get up to bed. This requires negotiation skills and a willingness to give in order to get.

Threats are useful only in dire situations where you really can’t back down. That’s a “win/lose” scenario and the fewer times you resort to that tactic, the better for all concerned.

Finally, propaganda. You can try to convince him that he really wants to do whatever it is that you want, even if he didn’t think so at first. This is the hardest one of all, and requires an agile mind, keen insight to human nature, and an ability to lie to someone’s face without a hint of remorse. In other words, you have to be a good lawyer.

My Two Cents: Southern Discomfort, ed.

DEAR ABBY:
About six months ago, my husband and I asked my 19-year-old cousin, "Danny," to live with us. He had hit a rough spot in his life, and had been doing drugs, drinking and feeling suicidal. Since living with us, Danny no longer has these feelings and is no longer drinking or doing drugs. We are trying to help him find his direction in life. Recently, my grandmother, who adopted Danny when he was 10 after his mother died, went to my mother's house where my husband and I were visiting for the weekend, and began yelling at us.

First she accused us of not loving Danny and claimed we are trying to ruin his life. Then it escalated, and she was screaming at us because we didn't ask her permission before inviting Danny to come live with us. (He was already out of her house and living with my uncle at the time.) She also claimed Danny was "better off doing drugs and drinking" and being "home" than he is with us because she wasn't "mean" to him like we are!

Feelings were hurt and a lot of tears were shed. When we told Danny what happened, he was confused and asked: "Where did all this come from? You aren't bad people. I'm much happier here than anywhere else." Abby, where do you think all my grandmother's hostility and anger came from? It's the first time I've ever had a confrontation with her.
-- CONFUSED IN WISCONSIN

Dear Grandma’s Addict:

"Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…"

Man, there’s “empty nest syndrome” and then there’s “bat shit crazy old crone syndrome.” Too bad. That kid’s going to have enough trouble laying off the pipe without being fought over like a gnu leg in a cave full of hyenas. She’s acting like you’d expect his dealer to act. What was the kid getting high on? Lipitor/Plavix speedballs? Keeping these two apart is the best way to avoid a Sid and Nana climax down the road (“But where are the goodbye drugs, Grandma?”)

Emotional outbursts happen in families all the time and the craziest shit gets said before anyone knows what’s coming out of their mouths. “Where it comes from” is probably your grandmother’s fear that she’s going to be abandoned in her dotage—a dotage seemingly in rapid onset. Or, it could also be that she came across his stash and mistook the meth for Splenda. (“Mercy, that’s some damned perky sassafras tea!”)

Eventually, she’ll come to regret her Mel Gibson moment (we’re all going to have at least one someday) and accept the situation for the good of all. Your cousin should visit regularly to show that she isn’t going to be abandoned. It also wouldn’t hurt if the rest of you made an effort, too. A couple of weeks acting the ass don’t negate a lifetime of hauling your freight.

DEAR ABBY:

There's a boy in my class I have known since I was 2. He's a great athlete, but is a tad bit full of himself. He is always playing mean pranks on me and hitting me up for money, and if I don't give him money he hits me. I ask him to stop, but he still does it. Abby, what do you think I should do?
-- 11 AND FRUSTRATED

Dear Sock Muppet:

You wanna know how you do it? They pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That's the Chicago way…

The Untouchables, 1987

Bully stealing your lunch money, eh? Uh huh. Child, turn to the person who wrote the term “a tad bit full of himself” into your letter and ask them what “klee-shay” means.

MTC is guessing you’re a girl because everybody knows what a boy’s supposed to do when somebody jacks their money—hit back, fahcrissakes. Now, if MTC’s wrong and you are a boy, listen up: don’t ever tell anyone that you wrote to “Dear Abby” about this problem. Never. Trust the dood on this and we’ll just keep it between us. If you are a girl, hell, you can probably take him, and, in case you can’t, girls can use pepper spray. Just remember, you don’t have to beat him up, you just have to make yourself more trouble to rob than the next wimpy kid with lunch money.

Besides, it’s better that you learn to handle these types when it’s only lunch money and a sock in the arm at stake. Boys like that grow up to become derelicts that drink up their paychecks and bounce Old Grandad™ bottles off their wives’ skulls. Learn to recognize the signs now so you don’t marry one and get in some live fire exercises with the pepper spray in case you do.

This is what’s bugging MTC: Who still uses money for lunch? Doesn’t your school use those plastic cafeteria account cards? * They should have already indoctrinated you kids into the Digital Consciousness. By the time you hit high-school, they’ll scan your fingerprint to pay for lunch. When you have your own kids, they’ll have Radio Frequency ID tags implanted in their bodies that will not only pay for lunch, but also tell the cafeteria cyborgs exactly what medications to mix into their soy-lent nutrition drip. Yes, bullies are going to be hard pressed to find a niche in the mid-twenty-first century.
-------------------------------------------------
* Or is this some 10 year old re-tread letter Abby, Jr. pulled up from the vault so she could take that Veteran’s Day weekend cruise to fabulous Puerto Villarta?

DEAR ABBY:

I am a newly single young woman just coming out of a marriage. I was recently dining alone in a local restaurant when I was sent a drink from a patron at the bar. This had never happened to me before. Although I was flattered, I wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation. I wasn't interested in the gentleman sending the drink, and thus felt bad about accepting his kind gesture. What is the proper thing to do and say in this situation?

-- NEWLY SINGLE IN THE SOUTH

Dear Dodge Pick Up:

Do: nothing. Say: “Thank you, Jesus.” A southern gal like you ought a know when to witness. You seem kinda churchy given that you won’t even say the D-word. Advertise yourself in the personals as a NSYWJCOOM, do ya? That’s cool. doodahman lists as a SWPEMF. Anyhoo….

Whenever somebody sends up a cocktail, a nod or toast in gratitude is perfectly sufficient. If they come over, warn them that you aren’t putting out or whatever lengthy euphemism you use instead. You can always say you’re waiting for someone (leaving out the “who isn’t a loser” part). Men throw drinks at women like they throw chips on a roulette table. If their number doesn’t come up, that’s how it goes-- nothing to worry about. Besides, if they’re really serious, they would follow you home or hide in the backseat of your car.

Until you get a better handle on the old brush off, it’s probably not a good idea to eat alone in places where men are known to hang out looking to liquor up chicks. That’s called “cruising solo.” Cruising solo is best left to experienced singles, not NSYWJCOOMs wet behind the ears. Eat alone at Stuckey’s or the Waffle House. If, however, you’re dining at the Meat Rack or the Velvet Cave, bring a friend-- preferably an SFEWMB.*
_____________________________
*Single Female Experienced With Male Bullshit

DEAR ABBY:

Mother is 74. She recently married a man who is a registered sex offender. She found out about his past on their second date, but swallowed his story about how he was innocent of his crime. She married him after only three weeks of dating and hid his past from our entire family.

My teenage daughter discovered his mug shot on the Internet and, of course, all hell has broken loose as a result. Our family is torn apart. We (my brother, sister-in-law, grown children, nieces) had told my mother we didn't want him around our children, but we still wanted her in our lives. She became insulted and gave us an ultimatum -- it's a package deal with her and him, or she'd have no contact with us at all.

After three months of silence, she is now trying to contact us to tell us we have no right to judge him and she's trying on convince us to accept him as the new grandfather. We are being barraged with calls and letters from her, trying to get us to see "her" side.
Are we being too judgmental, or are we right to try to keep him away from our kids? This is her fourth marriage, her fifth serious relationship. Her second husband molested her two young granddaughters many years ago, and this new man has just been too much to bear. What should we do?

-- SUSAN, SOMEWHERE IN MISSOURI

Dear Stand By Your Ban:

Dang. This woman is the Typhoid Mary of molestation. The old dude must take the whole “Show-Me State” thing way too far.

Unfortunately, granny has a soft spot in her head and heart for dangerous pervs --“That 8 year old slut got me drunk and seduced me, I tells ya! Hey baby, put on those Buster Browns, crawl over here and call me ‘Daddy’.”
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew.




First off, don’t give an inch on this. Keeping child molesters away from kids was the whole point to having him register as a sex offender. Duh. They spent all that money on that system for a damned good reason. You have to child-proof the house from sex fiends just like you would from loaded guns and exposed wiring. That’s all there is to it and Baby Jane can screech until Doomsday, it don’t matter.

If you care enough to try, bring in a third party to talk some sense into both her and the fiend. Sure, there might be some tension, hard feelings, perhaps even some shouting and shoving. Or, were doodahman present, the judicious application of a baseball bat. Either way, he’ll get the picture and, with some luck, move on to easier pickin’s. Besides, MTC hears tell that there's another crazy old woman up in Wisconsin that needs a roommate.

My Two Cents: Testosteronus Prix, ed.

DEAR MARGO:

:

I confided to my cousin, with whom I'm very close, that I'd become intimate with my boyfriend of one year. My parents, who are very conservative, did not know. Quite frankly, I was not ready to tell them. I'm still going to college, and although I would have told them eventually, I didn't feel the time was right for them to know just yet. When I told my cousin about it, I asked her not to say anything. Well, it came to pass that she told my mom, who in turn told my dad. This completely destroyed my faith and trust in my cousin. It was not her place to say anything. My mom, not wanting a rift in the family, thinks I need to "just get over it and forgive her already," but I'm not ready to. I can't even bring myself to talk to my cousin.

Is my mom right? Do I just need to get over it?

--- BITTER AND BETRAYED

Dear Family Outing:

While it’s always more fun to blame somebody else for our own goofs, consider the chain of events here: you got all intimate against your parents’ wishes; you kept it secret from them; you told Radio Free Bigmouth, a cousin no less. Hmmm, almost as if you wanted to your parents to know but didn’t have the nerve to tell them. Surely you, a sexually active college student, are smart enough to know that open mouths and open legs don’t mix in conservative families.

Do not trust the cuz with scandalous tidbits ever again. If she can’t shut up about your pre-marital ribaldry, chances are she’ll blab about voting for Howard Dean, intravenous drug use, and that dead hooker buried in the crawl space (you Deaniacs are all alike). On the bright side, now you have a way to let your parents know uncomfortable things about you without having to confront them directly—that may come in very handy down the road when you get knocked up or busted for that “massage” service of yours.

Be honest with yourself—now that your parents know, you must feel better about it. Apparently, they did not kick you out of the house, cut off your trust fund, or send you to Christian boot camp (“What IS your moral malfunction, numbnuts?”). In fact, you’re halfway to being able to rut like polecats under your parent’s own roof. Thank your cuz for that, the dingy bitch. So, follow your mom’s advice—it will gratify her immensely after you blew her off on the chastity thing—and forgive your cousin.

DEAR MARGO:

I've been married four years and have been happy most of the time. Lately, however, my husband has become very condescending and treats me like a child. He acts as if it takes a long, drawn-out explanation on any matter for me to understand. Then he asks, "Do you understand? Are we clear on this?" I have a college education and am not stupid. Though he doesn't use that word, his tone makes me think it is just on the tip of his tongue. This past weekend, he told me off over some rental property he owns. I have done every bit of the physical labor in preparing this property for sale. I felt too angry to respond in a civil manner at the time, so I held my tongue until I was calm. When I tried to speak to him, he said, "I am going to stop having serious conversations with you because you won't let anything go. Once I have told you what the problem is, it's over. There is nothing more to discuss." I could just scream. This man has gotten to the point where he won't even get himself a glass of water. He will ask, "Do we have any water?" Translation: Get me some water. He went to counseling with me one time, and when we got in the car, he told me he could see us ending up divorced if I ever tried to get him into counseling again.
Please help.
--- ALONE IN PENNSYLVANIA

Dear Reading (the writing on the wall), Pa.:

Men’s shit, huh? Well, if it’s any consolation, men ain’t immune to men’s shit either. In fact, men put up with men’s shit all damn day, then go home and put up with women’s shit all damn night and sometimes an extra ration of teenage daughters' shit for dessert. Bottom line: there’s more than enough shit to go around for everybody.

Sorry to be a downer, but four years into a marriage is about the time for cracks to start showing. In your case, we’re talking fissures. A fistula, perhaps. Or wait-- a vast emotional carbuncle, about to erupt in a rhyolitic flood of pus and blood. He’s just seeing how far he can push you until you give up and get out of his life. You know, like a cat playing with a mouse until its belly bursts open and its guts spill out all over the linoleum.

Everything he does to render you subservient says, “It’s my way or the highway; and, incidentally, 'my way' pretty much consists of you eating a heaping big plate of fresh-squeezed bullshit every day.” Oh joy. He clearly does not respect you and nobody wants to be married to somebody they don’t respect. Only weirdoes tolerate being married to an a-hole who doesn’t respect them. So, unless you go for that sort of thing, it’s time to Kevorkianize the relationship.

True, he’s being passive aggressive to the max, but that’s only consistent with making you do everything including taking care of his rental property and then bitching about the work he fobbed off on you. True, it’s possible that you are, in fact, a dingbat. How does MTC know one way or the other? It could just be that he’s had it with you ‘splainin’ about all the Lucy moves you’ve pulled while running his investment into the ground. Be honest, because if you truly are as blameless as you claim, your marriage is doomed. Funny, but only by being an utter dingbat can you justify remaining married.

DEAR MARGO:

My husband and I have been together for 17 years, married for 12. He's more than a decade older than I am, and he brought significant baggage into the relationship. When we met, I was young, newly divorced, ridiculously naive, and thrilled with the prospect of being needed by my boyfriend and his children. Over the years, I've had one nasty shock after another:

Discovering right before our wedding that he wasn't actually divorced.

Uncovering his "little tax problem."

Surviving his inappropriate relationship with our day-care provider.

Dealing with an ex-wife who repeatedly tried to hit me up for money.

Protecting our children when one of my stepsons had an "episode" that required intervention by local law enforcement.

I am the primary -- and usually sole -- support for my family. I drive three hours round-trip to a well-paying but ultimately soul-killing job and still have to cook, supervise homework, clean, do laundry, make lunches, pay bills and mow the lawn. I'm exhausted, and he still complains that the house isn't kept as nicely as his mother's was. He's got a temper on him, so debating him isn't smart. He doesn't keep any close friends. We don't go out socially. You'd think that with this isolated life, at least the sex would be great. Since he was older and had children, I kind of assumed he knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, no. And I can't leave. I don't want to hurt my children, and where would I go? I own the house. He won't go to counseling. I don't know what to do.

--- MAXED OUT WITH STRESS AND UNHAPPINESS

Dear Too Young To Die, Too Dumb To Divorce:

This letter reminds MTC of the old joke about a boy who never spoke a single word his entire life. Then, at 14, he looks up during supper and says, “The soup’s cold.” His parents fell over in shock, until his mother recovered, saying, “My God, Junior. All this time we thought you couldn’t speak! What happened?” “Well, everything’s been fine up to now.”

While there is no exact statute of limitations in marriage, there is an informal rule that all the crap people do in the first three or four years of marriage has to be forgiven and forgotten by the time the people hit their tenth through twelfth year of being married. People who dredge up crap from that far back to complain about have to answer for the fact that they have stayed married nonetheless. This is a tacit admission of three possible things, either: whatever they did, you did worse; whatever they did, you exaggerate because no sane person would have put up with such crap; or, you are such a hideous loser that this SOB is the best you could do for fifteen freaking years. Sad, sad, sad.

So, forget the sordid litany of vice and failure that was your married life. Concentrate on what is your married life: the continuous, sublime joy that can only come through the graceful acceptance of suffering and forgiving a man who treats you like something that won’t come off his shoe without scraping it with a popsicle stick. Hmmm.

Or, you could re-examine the most unbelievable statement you’ve made in this god awful dirge of a letter: that you can’t leave him. Unless this letter was postmarked “Mogadishu”, you sure as hell can leave him. You have the house. You have the job. Shit, woman, you’ve already been through a divorce. If you didn’t manage to leave your first husband a stripped and bleached carcass, here’s your second chance.

DEAR MARGO:

I was married in 1971 and used a well-known etiquette book revised in 1968. I've used it over the years and found it very helpful. But now I find that the world has changed, and people have changed, and wonder if an updated copy is again necessary. The trouble is, I don't feel etiquette is a changing subject. But what do we do when an unmarried friend or family member is having a baby shower? Or, what to do when that unmarried mom gets married next year -- and wants to have a "big" wedding and wear a wedding gown? What are the "rules" here?

Please direct me. Help!

--- CHRISTINE

Dear Scarlet Letter Writer:

1968? That leaves a lot of ground to cover, alright. First, it’s perfectly okay to invite “colored” folk to the shower and wedding. These days, we consider them just plain folks. Fallout shelter rations are no longer considered practical wedding gifts. Dosing the punch with LSD is now definitely a faux pas (in fact, if you have any of that stuff left over, you’d best forward it immediately to MTC for proper disposal.) As for the specific problem of how to treat an unwed mother, immediately disregard any tips related to flogging, branding, or the affixing of scandalous letters to their gowns. In fact, tear out the whole chapter on “tar and feathering” and “rail riding.” These days, you’re pretty much restricted to sniggering quietly to yourself, and only if you absolutely have to do something high-handed.

You are not quite correct that etiquette doesn’t change. By Webster’s definition, etiquette is, “the forms required by good breeding, or prescribed by authority, to be observed in social or official life; observance of the proprieties of rank and occasion; conventional decorum; ceremonial code of polite society.” Since we no longer grovel before hereditary lords (as freeborn men, we need grovel only before whip wielding dominatrices, Mafia enforcers and shift managers), the “forms required by good breeding” have changed drastically. Why, today, rather than bow and scrape, propriety is satisfied by giving the local duke or earl a high five.

What doesn’t change is the underlying principle of etiquette. That principle is to always act with a generous, kind and gentle spirit so as to avoid unnecessary discomfort or embarrassment to everyone we meet—even a knocked up trollop waddling down the aisle in a rush to get hitched before her water breaks. In fact, especially people like that, who don’t need their special day clouded by some judgmental skinflint too damn cheap to replace a thirty five year old book on how to behave.
Yeah, etiquette— something nobody here promised you.