There’s a new Sugar in town:

FAQ Redux

Q. What sort of advice column is this? …more

As for the fate of the country, my money is on roving diesel mobs. But then, my money has always been on roving diesel mobs. …more

Dear Sugar,

I really like this boy who I work with and I’m pretty sure that he fancies me. We’re both single and are constantly flirting with each other. I think we should give a relationship a go, but I’m afraid that it might ruin our friendship. Everyone who knows us has already said that we should be going out and are an ideal couple. I get along with his friends and really think that it could work. What should I do? …more

Dear Sugar,

I currently work three jobs. One is an office job I hate that I spend thirty hours a week at. One is an unpaid internship I love, and that offers me the experience I need for future goals. I work around twenty to thirty hours a week there. The last is a side job for extra cash, but the boss has offered to give me more hours if I quit the office job.  Not enough to live off, but I have some savings. …more

Dear Sugar,

I started a new job and over the first two months developed a thing for my boss. …more

Dear Sugar,

My best friend just got out of a shitty marriage and, fairly quickly, met an amazing guy. He’s unbelievably hot, super smart, employed, and completely into her. He has some issues (don’t we all?), but mostly he seems great. She is over the moon.

Here’s the problem—I’m being kind of bitchy about him! …more

Dear Sugar,

My girlfriend and I broke up six months ago. We were fighting all of the time and no longer having sex. Time seemed up. …more

Dear Sugar,

My best friend asked me the other day if my husband and I still make out. I had to think about that for a minute because I couldn’t really remember the last time we actually made out. We got to talking and she said that it really bothers her that sometimes her and her husband make love and afterwards she’ll realize they never kissed once. …more

Dear Sugar,

An old friend recently called for advice. She sounded miserable. She turned 25 last week and went to the city to celebrate, and it brought back all these dormant aspirations to live in New York. She’d been accepted into fashion school and a tragedy kept her from going …more

Dear Sugar,

I am a thirty-something-year old woman who has been on the pill for awhile now. When I think about how much the pill has cost me over the years the number starts to upset me a little. …more

Dear Sugar,
Six months ago I had an abortion. I still haven’t told anyone, not even my partner. …more

Dear Sugar,

I am a son who feels lowly today. The reason why is that yesterday was my mother’s birthday, and I forgot. No card, no flowers, not even a phone call. I live 3,000 miles away from her, and haven’t seen her in almost a year, and now this. My question to you is: how can I make it up to her?

(Sidenote: My parents are still married, so a night of me being her wingman isn’t going to cut it).

Bad Son Trying to Make Good

Dear Bad Son,

You can’t make it up to her. What’s more, the assumption that you somehow could is a key component of what we’ll call your Chronic Assholitude. You sound like the kind of guy who wants credit for feeling guilty about his inaction in the face of clear and easily fulfilled emotional responsibilities. And who, not so secretly, wants to be thought well of for his self-inflicted anguish. In other words, you sound like five of the six men I married.

Because it’s not like this is some epic quandary that needs special Sugar sauce. You write her a heartfelt letter of apology and thanks for all she’s done. You acknowledge that you haven’t been the best son, but you love her deeply. You send flowers. You rifle through the crusty fannypack of your mind and come up with some gift that would mean a lot to her, and no I don’t mean a gift card to the Olive Garden. Something distinct to her actual fucking desires as a distinct human being on earth. If you’re struggling with this, consult your father or siblings. They’ll be reminded what an asshole you are, but that’s not exactly a state secret at this point.

Sorry to harsh on you, Bad Son. But I and every other woman on earth has heard some version of this masculine wolf cry every day for the past several decades. It wears on us. So get your ass off-line and find some nice stationery and some nice wrapping paper and pretend to give a shit about someone other than yourself for, like, half an hour.

Oh, and if you’re at all confused about why you owe your mother such honest regret and actual reverence, grease up a good-sized Cornish Game Hen and stick it up your ass. It’s not at all the same thing, but close enough for our purposes.

Ask Sugar a question. Sugar@therumpus.net

Dear Sugar,

I woke up this morning to find a loose, glass coffee table in my backyard. I don’t know where it is from or why it is there. Is this a sign, similar to a horse head in the bed? Or rather, destiny. Perhaps a secret admirer. I don’t know. I have a bit of personal history with loose glass tables and car windows. More specifically, glass usually gets broken in my presence.  The question is, what do I do with the table?

Christopher Walken on Broken Glass

Dear Chris,

What the fuck’s going on here? Did Indie Rockboy School let out last week? Why am I only getting letters from too-clever dudes who keep getting their “work” rejected by McSweeney’s? Where all the ladies at?

Can I just say it?

Sugar is lonely.

Here we are, six months into our supposed new era of idealism, and the moral discourse of our country remains as self-concerned and mindless and hate-choked as before. We can do better than this with our suffering, folks.

Sugar is hereby on vacation unless and until I hear from people whose problems reside in their hearts not their egos.

Ask Sugar a question. Sugar@therumpus.net

Dear Sugar,

I apologize in advance because I’m going to give you a lot of history and concerns before I get to my questions. A very Catholic girlfriend of mine was dating a very Catholic guy. Both of them were virgins and wanted to wait until marriage before having sex. Whenever things got too passionate, he would tell her that she was “evil” for “tempting him.” Consequently, this made her feel guilty and sinful.

After he broke up with her she found comfort in the arms of a transgendering female to male partner. My friend believes she is in a heterosexual relationship because the person she is with is a man on the inside. She has sexual relations now and she believes that the love they share is beautiful, not sinful. She argues that she is not a lesbian because she is not attracted to women and she does not touch her partner like a woman. Whether or not her partner is a man on the inside, he still has a vagina and breasts (though he does have a deeper voice and facial hair due to testosterone therapy). Physically, isn’t the sex they have the same as the sex two lesbians have?

Now that her first sexual experience is not with someone born in a man’s physical body I’m concerned that unconsciously she will always view sex between a penis and vagina as sinful and wrong (because of her first relationship) and has begun to program her body/mind to respond to sexual desires towards someone of the same physical gender as herself. This might be trivial but she claims she is no longer a virgin. I didn’t ask her for the details, but I’m guessing she didn’t lose her virginity by rubbing vaginas together. I could be wrong, but I would assume she lost her virginity to a vibrator. I guess I’m worried that if she ever does have sex with a penis it will feel like a broken vibrator or something. I know your advice will probably be something like “be happy for your friend if she’s happy” but I’m genuinely concerned with how this untraditional sexual experience will affect her sex life in the future. I just wish she had penis sex first so that she could have some kind of reference, you know?

I guess my main question is, is my friend a lesbian if she is attracted to and enjoys sex with someone of the same gender (taking into account that they both believe he is a man on the inside)? I know part of your charm is to be brutally honest, but could you show a little sweetness in your response Sugar?

Thanks,
Concerned Friend
Dear Concerned,

Omigod, you are SO crazy. And your friend is crazy, too. It’s like your crazy met her crazy and had a little crazy baby.

I fucking love it!

I want to invite you guys over to my place to party. And bring the hairy lesbian/transgender dude, too. Why not? It seems like you guys have lots to talk about, what with the Mystery of the Lost Virginity and the Penis Sex First Anxieties. And all this Hot Catholic Energy, too. Man, Catholics are such sexy freaks.

But mostly I want to assure you that your friend (while crazy) is doing fine. She’s finding her way. It’s an unusual way, but I’m pretty sure your anxieties say more about you than her. Don’t mean this in a mean way – I’m trying to be sweet – but the question get answered her is why her sexual life matters to you.

Remember: I can help with this! But it’s going to require that you guys head over here and drink too excess with me. Until further notice, I’m baking cookies in the nude.

Ask Sugar a question. Sugar@therumpus.net

Dear Sugar,

Should I quit my job? Seriously, I’m going to do whatever you advise… no pressure though. A little background? Usual story: boss is a jerk, pay sucks, feeling the drain of the same schedule every day, wishing the coffee machine wasn’t broken, etc.

What do you think?
Leaving It Up to (Sugary) Fate
Dear Leaving,

You sound like a young boy with strong forearms. Am I close? If so, then I have some terrific news: I need an intern. I realize I’m taking a chance, given that your note suggests a less than ideal employee. But what the hell. Your only responsibilities will be fetching me cookies and licking my calves.

Now that I’m your new boss, I have a few quick questions.

First, how do you feel about nut play? (I’m crazy for it.)
Second, how do you plan to earn money?
Third, why didn’t you think about that before?
Fourth, why are we arguing already?

God, I hate it when this happens. One minute I’m gurgling your intimates and the next the EEOC is involved. Just remember what you were when Sugar found you.

Ask Sugar a question. Sugar@therumpus.net

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Dear Sugar,
I broke up with my boyfriend a couple months ago but still feel guilty when I get it on with other people, and I only fantasize about him. I want him OUT of my head! Help.
Still Hung Up …more

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Dear Sugar,
I have a hangnail that is extremely irritating … but it hurts too much to just pull it off. I also have a sex partner who is starting to seem a lot like said hangnail. Any advice on how to solve either of my problems?
Thanks,
Hangnail Hater

Dear Hater,
Hangnails are tricky. I once went skiing in Denver with a hot little Cuban monkey who drilled me like a Marine. The problem was my ski boots. They were too tight. As a result, I got this wicked hangnail, bad enough that they had to Medi-vac me down the mountain to a sadistic podiatrist. What did he do? He just hacked through the offending nail, right down to the quick. I was sure it was going to grow back sideways, right into my soft flesh. But it didn’t. It grew up. And my Cuban lover was very gentle, even as he took me from behind in the sauna. So my advice with the hangnail is to find a gentle Cuban. Actually, that’s my advice on all your questions.
You’re welcome.

Dear Sugar,
Lately I’ve been waking up at 4 am almost every day absolutely convinced I’m going to get fired from job or have my hours slashed in half. I told my coworkers and boss about it and they just laughed. On a rational level I know I don’t have to worry, and yet every night there I am sure I won’t be able to make next months rent or get another job, and too stressed to fall back asleep. Also I have a recurring dream about going on the Star Tours ride at Disneyland and am wondering if I should take advantage of the free-on-your-birthday Disneyland offer this year or if I should resist advertising that has somehow infiltrated the precious few non-work stress related dreams I have left. What do you think?
Thanks,
Anxious in the AM

Dear Anxious,
You’re fired.
Hahaha. Just kidding. I don’t have the power to fire you. Only Obama does.
As for the Disneyland birthday business, you have to remember that the rides are free, but you have to pay for the food and beverages, and your soul gets loaned to an out-of-work mascot for the duration of your visit.
Regardless, you touch upon a vital point: Americans are losing their jobs. The great myth of building a country on consumption is crumbling like so much feta cheese. Or perhaps it’s drizzling like so much imported balsamic vinegar. The point is: you can kiss the fancy salads goodbye for the next long while.
Is that such a bad thing? No.
The truth is, we were all getting oppressed by abundance and losing touch with our frugal, Puritan roots. (Dress warmly inside! Beets are good! Grandma didn’t have much longer to live anyway!) Privation makes people dependent on one another, and can awaken untapped reservoirs of mercy. For more on this topic get off your ass and read “The Grapes of Wrath” with particular emphasis on the final page. Now that’s what I call the milk of human kindness.
Stop fighting the anxiety. This is where we are as a people, and where most of the rest of the people on the planet have been for some time. They’ve learned to adjust to economic insecurities, to enjoy the moments of “not getting fired,” rather than focusing on the actual “getting fired” part. There’s a chant you can say that will help, but that costs money.
P.S. – You’re still fired.
Love,
Sug

send Sugar a question: sugar@therumpus.net

…more

Dear Sugar,

I am a bachelor in my early 30s. I don’t share an apartment with a female because of my high moral standards, and I am not yet ready for marriage. When I used to share an apartment with another bachelor, people assumed that we were gay.

I now have a very nice place of my own. However, if I have bachelor friends over, I am still perceived as being gay. And if I entertain a female friend, people say I am bisexual. (I just can’t seem to win!) Why is it that a single man cannot have friends over for a simple card game or to watch TV without people thinking there’s something sexual going on?

I am straight, and I am sick of all this ugly talk. What can I do to stop this vicious gossip?

Gaylord Perry

Gaylord!

It’s hard for me to respond to someone with “high moral standards.” The last person I encountered with “high moral standards” was a Mormon missionary. There were two of them, actually, and I sucked them both off. But – crucially – they didn’t suck each other off. As I understand it, that would have been a violation of Church Doctrine.

Where were we?

Ah yes, you’re gay.

Oh, wait a second. You’re NOT gay. Really really NOT NOT NOT gay. Got it.

But people keep thinking you’re gay because you have friends over to watch gay porn TV and play strip poker. Is this what you’re telling me? If so, I have no earthly clue why these “people” perceive you as gay. They sound like unreliable bigots who target sexually insecure card players.

In other words, it sounds like something you should totally worry about. “People” are constantly referring to me as a “washed up hack with slut issues” even though I don’t even play cards. And I make it a point to worry about this constantly and to spend all my free time with them. Except when I’m sucking nubile Mormon pipe. There’s just no winning with “people” is my point. How the fuck they ever got that magazine off the ground baffles me.

Hello Sugar,

Here is my question: just got divorced. The bad news, I’m 45, and got a couple kids. The good news: I’m in great shape, no beer gut or love handles, have all my hair, all my teeth and my professional-level job. So what do you think are the youngest women I can honestly try to talk up without looking like some child molester or being laughed off e-harmony? Obviously the 18-21 crowd is off limits but what is the rule? Ten years?

E Brown

Dear E,

If you can find a 22-year-old on e-harmony who’s prepared to serve as a stepmother for your children and monitor your cholesterol levels, I see no reason for you not to make that incredibly stupid decision. Isn’t that what e-harmony is for in the first place? (Do I sound bitter about e-harmony? I’m just tired of people using the Almighty to pimp a dating service. It’s demeaning to the seediness of on-line matchmaking.)

Here’s what I’m thinking, E: the way you describe yourself makes me think of Kevin Spacey in that movie American Beauty. It may be that you got married young and never had a chance to go through your idiot oat-sowing twenties, in which case, uh, okay, flex those abs and find a sociology major who thinks it’s super-cool that you have a “professional-level” job.

But here’s the thing: I don’t want to think about Kevin Spacey in American Beauty. Actually, I don’t want to think about Kevin Spacey ever. I want to think about the guy who considers it good news that he has two kids and that he’s a little older and that he’s survived a divorce without losing hope and that he’s emerged from that failure determined to stop primping and chasing young thangs because he gets how sad and empty that game is. So if you’re actually that guy, E, fuck me already. I’ve got a beer gut, but I can pass for 45 from behind.

**

ASK SUGAR A QUESTION. Send correspondence to sugar@therumpus.net

Dear Sugar,

I am lonely. Truly, bone-chillingly, ceaselessly lonely. I just moved to a new city, and I’m worried no one would take time to identify the body if I got hit by a car. All my friends have boyfriends. No, I’m lying. I don’t have any friends. But from what I can tell is happening on the street, everyone is with everyone, and I only have my hand…to type this question for you: how do I have a fulfilling life outside the company of others? If such a life is impossible, then how do I make friends or get someone to love me or cultivate a more magnetic personality? Or maybe, if you’re not busy, we could hang out sometime? I mean, only if you want. I was pretty cool in college.

Most sincerely,

Smells of Teen Desperation

Dear STD,
One place to look, in terms of self-improvement, is the sentence “I was pretty cool in college.” It has at least two depressing aspects, and I’m not thinking that hard.
But there’s no reason to weep, sweetie! You’re new in town. Loneliness is part of the drill. Happily, human beings have adapted to this circumstance. There is now a full-proof cure for loneliness. It’s called “reading.” (And no, I don’t mean reading Eat, Pray, Love. That just makes you lonely for pizza.)
I’d suggest Persuasion by Jane “STD” Austen, and Howard’s End by E.M. “Cuddlybear” Forster. Also, Mrs. Bridge by Evan Connell. Also Mr. Bridge. Also My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up, which is by Mr. Stephen Elliott, the young man who employs me at this magazine, and who is constantly sending me photos of himself with a device that looks like a glittery yarmulke on his pee-pee. It takes all kinds, baby love.
One more thing: loneliness has its own divine purposes. It remains the most powerful symptom of the human need for love. And you will miss it when it’s gone–believe it or not–which is why the Gods invented sad songs.

Dear Sugar,
I’ve been having what I thought was a thread of funny ha-ha emails with an old friend from high school who I haven’t talked to in ages–who was never more than a friend, and who I’ve never wanted to be more. I’m very happily married, and even if I weren’t I wouldn’t feel romantically about him. But he dropped the dreaded bomb, saying that he always thought I might be The One for him, that sex with his wife is a nightmare, and that he’s getting a divorce. All I could think was: What would Sugar do? How do you suggest I navigate this weirdness?

Sincerely,

Hiding from Hyde

Dear Hydie-Ho,
Unless this old friend is bona-fide nutbread–in which case, why correspond with him?–your notes have left him with some sense of assumed intimacy. Why might that be? That’s what Sugar would be asking.
As for how to respond, if you’re dealing straight with Sugar this is a no-brainer. Just send him a note saying, “Sorry, you’re asking the wrong doctor for a hernia exam. Period.” If this doesn’t work, send him my email address and we’ll proceed to Step Four: Being Honest with the People Who Matter.

**

ASK SUGAR A QUESTION. Send correspondence to sugar@therumpus.net

Dear Sugar,

How in the fuck am I going to survive the econopocalypse? Seriously. What’s your plan? Do you have a plan? What should my plan be? Holy. Fucking. Shit. I am so scared.

Thanks,

Man, Often Nervous, Econopocalypse = Yeek!

Dear Money,

Your question touches me. I, too, am scared. In the immortal words of whoever it was who said it: “Beware a well-armed citizenry with the emotional maturity of a toddler.” The big cat thing is also spooky. They’re taking over split-levels outside SoCal. I don’t know how to feel about it, though I find myself sort of rooting for the big cats. How much worse can they do in the suburbs than we did?

The long dream of American consumption is over. Gil Scott-Heron told us this would happen 25 years ago. Nobody listened. That’s our national specialty, it turns out. That and porn. You can count on the government to keep printing money – it’s what they do when the tea leaves read “busted” – but the real recovery program will be taken on by you, brother. Your personal economy is just about to wave bye-bye to the inefficiencies of abundance.

This brings us to Sugar’s No Depression Depression Plan.

1. Get used to having less

2. Channel your panic into starting a pot garden

3. Stop twittering

4. Stop checking Facebook

5. Stop watching Reality TV to make yourself feel less pathetic

6. Recruit an attractive boarder

7. Seduce your boarder using hot oil massage

8. Film your boarder and post the video on-line

9. Sell the film rights to your story to a man with BluRay technology

10. Reject the reflexive shame of material deprivation

11. Take inventory of your skills and embrace barter

12. Continue to get used to having less

Please remember that most of the world already makes do with much less. They don’t freak, they adapt. As fat and lazy as Americans have become, we remain human and, as such, capable of adaptation. There’s some chance we might even become less selfish in the process. Either that, or we’ll perish in a fiery ball of useless appliances. The choice is yours, Money.

Dear Sugar,

A friend who is into adventurous sex told me that he was recently involved in a threesome (MMF). During the festivities he gave the other male a blowjob. He told me about this because he describes himself as a heterosexual male and he said that giving the blowjob made him feel bad the next day. I asked him if this had happened before and he said that it had, but not with any regularity or intent prior to the threesome; his actions were by his account, entirely impulsive.

Does giving another man a blowjob every once in awhile to add a little spice to a MMF threesome mean that you are at least bisexual? Said another way, are you in denial if every once-and-awhile you are blowing other guys, or is homo/bi-sexuality a conscious determination in spite of a behavioral pattern?

Udderly Confused

Dear UdCon,

Is there something you want to tell Dr. Sugar?

No?

Well here’s what Dr. Sugar wants to tell you: stop sweating the nomenclature. Is any dude who smokes a little spermpipe gay? Is there such a thing as second-degree fellatio? Is there some chart we can check? Come on. I’ve fucked about a third of the animal kingdom at this point, and forty or so inanimate objects. And the only label I’m willing to wear on my sleeve is H-O-R-N-D-O-G.

The real question is to what extent the average human being can tolerate his or her own sexual desires. Your pal’s behavior bugs you because you feel like he’s fronting. And this bugs you because you’re fronting. So okay.

One thing that might help is watching that new documentary about the Reverend Ted Haggard. If nothing else, it will provide the proper term for a man who tries to deny his biological impulses: miserable.

The Rumpus advice column lives! Don’t forget to send Sugar your questions: sugar@therumpus.net

Dear Sugar,
When in a relationship I sometimes worry that I’m missing out by not playing the field while in my ’20s. But once I pilot a relationship into the ground I find myself lonely and pining for the reliable partnership (and putting out) that comes with going steady. Can you crunch some numbers and show, preferably statistically, which is better: out on the town or at home with that special someone?
Thanks,
Confused About Naughty Thoughts

Dear CANT,
Crunch some numbers. Sure.
I’ve been single and sexually active in “short-term relationships” for 17 years, during which I’ve had an average of 39 sexual partners per annum, with whom I had sex 6.71 times each for a duration of 43 minutes and 24 seconds, excluding clean-up. I achieved orgasm in 61.2 percent of those encounters, and multiple orgasms in 9.8 percent.
By contrast, I’ve been sexually active in “long-term relationships” or marriages for 22 years, during which I had sex an average of 19.4 times per annum for a duration of 16 minutes and 51 seconds. I don’t have exact figures on orgasms, owing to blackouts, but let’s guesstimate 74 percent single, 12.5 multiple.
We’ll need to exclude the various affairs, group sexual activities, and paid exhibitions. (Also, the so-called “Corey Haim Lost Weekend,” involving marriage in Vegas, divorce in Juarez, and aggravated battery/consensual trauma play, depending on whose attorney you believe.) For the sake of reliable data, let’s also include a variable quotient for unexplained grief, crushing loneliness, the fear of disease, and incessant masturbation. Right.
So now let’s crunch those numbers. Crunch crunch crunch . . . right, carry the two . . . round up to the six . . . subtract eight to adjust for cold weather . . .  
Our surprising result: We are all lonely creatures struggling to balance our lusty ego needs with homeostatic cuddle time.
If there was some discrete answer to the heart’s toil, don’t you think Steve Jobs would have made it an application on your iPhone already? Think, CANT!
But lookee here honeybunch–you’re still in your twenties. You’re sensitive to the divided loyalties of your soul. You clearly know how to operate a power tool. What’s the real problem here? Pay close attention to whomever you’re fucking. Ignore the yammering of All You Don’t Have. Listen close for the soft bell of magic.

Dear Sugar,
After re-reading old e-mails and Interweb conversations, I realize how perfect my ex-boyfriend and I are for each other. It’s clear we have a kind of epic love that people write about (a love that synthesizes the passion, drama, and violence of Wuthering Heights with the wit, irony, and perfect comedic timing of Seinfeld). It’s true these interactions are dated months ago, before the pregnancy scare. It’s also true that he’s never given me an orgasm in real life. It’s further true that he may be emotionally gaytarded. However, I wonder if, as an aspiring writer, I should judge words rather than actions. On paper, I can say without hesitation, he’s The One. Should I revoke the restraining order? And give our etymological love a second chance?
Love,
Half of a Whole

Dear Half a Ho,
When I was about nine years old I got ahold of an old paperback my mama used to hide in her nightstand drawer, right next to her amphetamines. It was called Siblings and it had a picture of a naked female torso adorned with two pairs of strong male hands. I wasn’t reading at a real high level, but I knew enough words to be able to pick out the ones that felt sinful. I got a weird feeling, sort of a damp buzz in my pee-pee. This was that sort of paperback where the pages are thin and slightly yellowed and one night, when my mom was doing an overnight shift, I took Siblings out and started looking at the sinful words and pretty soon I closed the book and pressed the soft, worn edges against myself and began slowly humping this old paperback. It didn’t give me an orgasm, but my breathing got all fast and ragged and later I had to take a hot bath in my britches and pray to Jesus.
Does this make me gaytarded?

***

Send Sugar your questions: sugar@therumpus.net

More Dear Sugar

Dear Sugar,
I am in my late 30s and still in the dating scene (not playing hard-to-get, just haven’t found the right one). I have noticed that more than a few women are interested in how much money I make. In fact I think that “money” for some females, and this doesn’t seem to change with the age of the female, is the pivotal criterion for whether or not there is going to be a second date. To illustrate, a woman I dated recently told me that she could tell where a man was intellectually by the car he drives, the nicer the car the more intellectually developed the man. She said that she won’t date below a Camry (not an older model either, has to be post 2005), since I drive a 1997 Camry I knew that there wouldn’t be a second date for me. Further, she said that a man in his mid to late 30s should have a Lexus or better (a developmental stage that I have not yet achieved). Are most women like this, or am I having a bad run? Do you have any dating strategies to recommend for a late 30s male who has only achieved the Camry stage and is looking to date in the near Lexus range? Is a rental car cheating?
Thanks,
Chagrin About my Retrograde Transportation

Dear Camry,
Next you’ll be telling me your condo in the Mission needs a new roof. Wait, you don’t even own a condo in the Mission? And you expect me to blow you on the first date? How dare you, Camry.
And so forth.
Here’s what I want to know: how did you end up on a date with this Amex-sponsored prick tease? By this woman’s logic, Arnold Schwarzenegger is a genius and Ghandi is a retard. What are you doing trolling these shallow waters? Did you mommy not love you enough? Did she run over you with a Ford Fiesta?
Dating strategies, Cam? I recommend a strong dose of talk therapy, with particular emphasis on why – in your late 30s – you’re still hung up on material worth. I know we’re in the midst of a recession and I’m sure we’re all feeling antsy about where our next pair of edible underwear is coming from. But isn’t it possible that here in America circa 2009 you might find a women who doesn’t need to count your cattle before offering her heart? Or maybe you enjoy feeling worthless. In which case: get yourself a used Tercel, pronto.

Sugar,
The other day I met a guy on the subway. After the eyeing and the smiling and the coincidental exiting of the train at the same station, we introduced ourselves and exchanged numbers. Chemistry: check.
On our first date it was rapidly revealed that he’s on the opposite end of the political spectrum from me: a Christian conservative. But rather than hissing and spitting, we had a respectful, fascinating dialogue that left me wanting more. I can’t stop thinking about him. Meanwhile he’s decided it was no use to even try. Should I pursue it?
SINcerely,
The randy radical

Dear Randy,
Everyone knows that conservatives fuck better than liberals. Tucker Carlson said so. And he’s a spitter. So yeah, I’d definitely hunt down this virile Christian and beg for another chance to (as you so salaciously put it) “dialogue.” Insist on a public venue, dress down, and come prepared to debunk the Laffer Curve. Then, when he invites you back to his place, smack his face. For your second date, show up dressed like a Biblical whore. (Mary Magdelene is totally overdone. Try Tamar for a nice change of pace.) Read him the second chapter of the Song of Songs while standing there with your nipples showing. Tell him you’re having impure thoughts and want to be saved. If that doesn’t earn you a thunderous pounding from his rectitudinous manstaff, contact Bill O’Reilly.

Dear Sugar,
Let’s say I have three friends who all like the same girl and I’m not sure who of them is right for her, and I’m not sure the girl is right for any of them either, for that matter. Do I recuse myself from the matter altogether? Or tell them what I think, which will make no one happy? Please keep anonymous!

Dear Anon,
Let’s say you just shrug and say “I don’t know, dude, I heard she had genital herpes.” Because which of your friends is honestly going to say to this women, “I’m no longer interested in you because Anon told me you’ve got genital herpes”?
Or let’s say maybe (years from now) this romantic tangling is going to stand in for a certain period of your life, just before you realized that you were gay. In which case I say: maybe it’s time to forget about the girl and face facts.
Or let’s say at some point it occurs to you that it’s sort of weird and unnecessary – and neurotically intriguing – that you’d be empaneled as the arbiter of this young woman’s loins. You’re not a pimp, are you Anon? That would be so hot if you were.

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Hey Sugar (what a cool name btw),
I would love to know what to do in this situation (because it keeps happening to me). Say you hear news about a friend through Facebook–does this count as actually having “heard” the news, or do you need to wait until your friend tells you the news in-person before you respond? In the past month, I learned that a friend was pregnant through her Facebook page and that another friend was getting divorced (she changed her status).
Do you then take that as having been told and either congratulate or condole when you see the person?
Cheers,
Alison

Alison,
This is the kind of question you should send along to Prudence. She’s better on cyber-etiquette than I am, even if she is a dirty slut. I mean that as a compliment.
Facebook.
Oh Christ.
I’m going to pretend you asked me a more compelling question.

Dear Sugar,
If my friend got a religious icon lodged in an inappropriate orifice and then announced this on Facebook, would it be alright to for me to blow a real cute and basically willing teenage boy? (I am a Minister.)
Fondly,
Rev Party n Play

Dear PnP,
Yes. But you HAVE to change your Facebook status.
Sugar

Dear Sugar,
I have a 9-6 job where I am a “normal,” however, I consider myself to be a creative person who doesn’t really like the following: having a boss or responsibilities, waking up before noon, or being under-appreciated for the genius I could be if I had more free time. I also have a feeling the company that employs me “looks down on” me blogging while I should be working, and I “look down on” myself for working when I should be blogging. If I quit, I’ll have no money for food or entertainment. If I don’t, I’ll be plagued by an existential crisis of not living the life I’ve picked out for myself. What do I do?
Fondly,
Otherwise Employed

Dear OED,
This is pretty easy. First thing: keep blogging. In fact, blog more. Blog so much that your “asshole” “bosses” are forced to “fire” you. Then blog about what pricks they are. Excoriate their “management” strategy. Spill a bunch of “trade” secrets. Oh, and say some mean stuff about their “genitals.” This should lead to a movie deal. Actually, it’s a blog, right? I sort of forgot, because it’s been a while since I actually read your question. But I’m pretty sure you were talking about your blog. Let me repeat the last part of that sentence, so it sort of sinks in what a genius you are: you were talking about your blog. Right. So the thing to do, after you write about your smelly ex-bosses, is to meet with publishers. That’s what Jesus would have done, and he was sort of like God’s blogger, only instead of typing his hands were hammered onto a cross by Mel Gibson. Mention unique visitors. Use the word “platform” as both a verb and a noun. Have Toni Bentley supply a pre-pub blurb. And make sure her ass writes the blurb. Because her pussy may lie, but her ass always tells the truth. Then do the movie deal. I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. Are we talking about your blog?

Sugar,
Is there an age at which young, reckless, and tipsy turns into smelly clothes and a gin blossom nose? Because I’m seriously concerned about my soon-to-be 26-year-old uncle.
Thanks,
Dutifully in Denial

DD,
Your question shows a lot of maturity. Alcohol dementia is no joke. It can strike as early as ten, though I’ve seen cases as young as six. The poor little fuckers. Maybe there’s some way you can spread awareness of this menace, without actually confronting your already demented 25-year-old uncle. Do you, by any chance, blog?

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ask Sugar a question: sugar@therumpus.net

Dear Sugar,
I’m an attractive woman in my mid-thirties. I’ve been single for over five years, and, while I don’t feel it’s all that helpful to find places to lay the blame, I can’t help but wonder, might I have a character defect? Am I too picky or will my patience pay off? Is this a completely commonplace boring experience not worth complaining about? Should I give up on ever finding romantic love?
Thanks,
Only the Lonely

Dear OTL,
You are suffering from what some asswipe Cosmo sociologist will eventually dub “the crisis of feminist actualization.” The condition now afflicts more than 75 percent of the college-educated females in urban America. This is what happens when women develop a healthy self-esteem, figure out how to support ourselves, and refuse to settle for men who consider Sportscenter foreplay. Thanks Simone! Thanks Bella! Thanks Gloria! A warm welcome to the big leagues of gender grievance.
But you’re asking a serious question, because you’re lonely and lost and whenever you hear Air Supply a part of you wants to cry. And part of me, knowing this, wants to cry on your behalf. I’ve got good news, though. You will find romantic love. It’s something you want, so sooner or later you’ll grow impatient with the pleasures of deprivation and self-pity and you’ll settle for someone who isn’t quite what you deserve. Then again, look at it from his point of view. Lorrie Moore writes about this all the time, and she’s smarter than entire regions of this country.
Try to show a little humility. Patience wouldn’t kill you, either. Develop elaborate calming rituals then ignore them. Find a nightclub where you can dance as if engorged with Spanish Flies. If you haven’t (and something tells me you have) read “Birds of America” six times. Masturbate whenever you feel like it.
Do you see what I’m driving at, OTL? You’re willing. You’re able. You’re hot. Someone can and will be munching on your lovebox by the time you read this. So concentrate on what I’m about to tell you: Sugar wants photos.

Dear Sugar,
An ex-girlfriend wants to get together for a no-strings-attached weekend, at this moment when neither of us is dating anyone else. We have had a complicated on-and-off relationship over the years, and she is near the likely end of her child bearing years.  What should I wear?
Sincerely yours,
Old Yeller

Dear Yeller,
How about a sign reading: Massage My Prostate with Your Big Fat Ex Thumb?
You’re so going to fuck this woman. So fuck her. Fuck her silly. Fuck her like it’s 1999. Fuck her like you’re Prince and she’s Sheila E and her tits are bigger than your head. But just remember the magic phrase, “likely end of her child bearing years.” And when she’s flipped upside down doing bicycle kicks on your mattress, don’t pretend there was no warning system in place.
But hey, you seem like the kind of guy who’d make a great absentee dad. You’re able to suspend disbelief in your own poor conduct. You’re lousy at communicating. And you’d make a nifty cell mate on deadbeat dad row. Just the thought of all that rakish manmeat is making Sugar sticky.

Dear Sugar,
My roommate has recently gotten very into meditation and all things woo-woo and New Age. This is fine, even though it’s resulted in him lecturing me for not finding my own “spiritual path.” I told him to leave me alone. I’m fine with whatever people want to do in their spare time, but don’t impose your beliefs on me, you know? I’m a practicing heathen, but respectful of others. Things took a passive aggressive turn this past week, though, when I brought my lady home to knock boots. Just as we started to get really get hot and heavy, he blasted his “nature sounds” CD and hit a gong repeatedly. Understandably, this totally spoiled our fun. Any advice on how to deal with this Rumi-loving roomie? I don’t want to have to find a new place, I really like all other aspects of where I live, and prior to his Zen kick he was the perfect cohabitor.
Thanks,
Om My God

Dear Om,
“Lady”? “Hot and heavy”? “Knock boots”?
Danny Bonaduce, is that you? Come home, Danny honey! All is forgiven! Sugar has your surgical tubing all rinsed and ready!

Sugar remains open for business. Send questions to sugar@therumpus.net

Dear Sugar: FAQ

Q: What sort of advice column is this?
A: If you took all the by-the-book common sense of Dear Abby and the earnest spiritual cheesiness of Cary Tennis and the butt-pluggy irreverence of Dan Savage and the closeted Upper Eastside nymphomania of Miss Manners and crushed them down into a single diamond-hard gem of pedantic know-it-allism, that’s the sort of column that would make Sugar puke.

Q: What are your areas of expertise?
A: Contract bridge and failure.

Q: Do you have any sort of overarching philosophy?
A: I don’t. I’ve had a few in the past – “Pass the Dutchie on the left-hand side,” “Lie whenever possible,” – but they always wind up costing too much to maintain.

Q: What sets Dear Sugar apart from the other advice columns out there?
A: I’ll be answering all questions within 30 seconds of their receipt.

Q: Is Sugar your real name?
A: Sugar is what we in the advice column racket call a “handle.” It’s intended to foster false intimacy with the reader. This initial deceit lays the foundation for what will hopefully evolve into a deeply disingenious relationship.

Q: Are any questions off limits?
A: No. There’s a legal injunction that prevents me from speaking publicly about a previous marriage. But as long as no one asks me about radio talkshow host Michael Savage or pederasty, we’re fine.

Q: Is there any sort of money-back guarantee?
A: Yes.

Sugar is open for business.

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