Dear Sugar
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THE RUMPUS ADVICE COLUMN: Insulting Questions Get Surly Responses
Sugar is hereby on vacation unless and until I hear from people whose problems reside in their hearts not their egos.
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DEAR SUGAR: “And all this Hot Catholic Energy, too. Man, Catholics are such sexy freaks.”
Just remember what you were when Sugar found you.
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THE RUMPUS ADVICE COLUMN: “Under what circumstances is it appropriate for a woman to pick a fight with a guy?”
My unofficial answer would be aim well.
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The Rumpus Advice Column: “Do you think it’s possible that maybe all of my friend’s vaginas are confused by multiple partners?”
Your letter is full of self-congratulation masquerading as earnest inquiry.
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“This is just how evolution designed our penised pals: they want the sweet ride, not the title.”
Boil it down and you wind up with the same stew: to thine own self be true.
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DEAR SUGAR: “If you’re so hot, anon, why not sign your name and include a pic of your amazing wonderpuss?”
You “feel” you should be out meeting people. You know what I say? Fuck that.
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“I also have a sex partner who is starting to seem a lot like said hangnail.”
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.
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An Emergency Broadcast from Sugar: An Abortion Near Sarah Palin’s Front Lawn
Do what you can, forgive yourself the rest.
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“I am lonely. Truly, bone-chillingly, ceaselessly lonely.”
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.…