I’ve been dating this guy for about six months, and now that we are getting more comfortable with each other, he has started calling me really embarrassing pet names. It’s annoying when he does it around the house, but it’s even worse when he does it in public.
For example, if we are out at the movies, he’ll say something like, “Do you want some buttered popcorn or a bag of jelly tots to eat during the show my little boo boo bunnykins?” Or how about, “Shall we see ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ with Julia Roberts or the re-release of ‘A Cinderella Story’ with Hilary Duff my little chubby chipmunk cheeks.” I mean geez, I’m not even overweight. I tell you Fern, pretty soon I’m going to put a stop to this nonsense by breaking up with Dre in a very public and hurtful manner. Unless of course, you have a better idea?
My Name Is Jonathan, Just Jonathan
I had a Bunnykins bowl when I was a kid. It was the best. Now answer me this, J-O-N-A-T-H-A-N…
Are you the type of guy who wakes up at the crack of dawn and yells out the window, “All you birds chirping your happy morning song had better shut the %$#@ up or I’m going to come out there and kick some robin and cardinal and sparrow %$$!”
Are you the type of guy who tells little children that there is no Santa just so you can watch them cry?
Are you the type of guy who has a Grinch sheet set on your bed and a poster of Victoria Beckham on your wall?
Are you the type of guy who goes to the zoo and makes fun of the animals because they are in cages and you are not?
Are you the type of guy most would call a killjoy, a sourpuss, a crosspatch, a bellyacher, or a curmudgeon? I think you are, you cantankerous son-of-a-gun.
Granted life can be embarrassing sometimes, but so what? Your partner loves you and he just wants to show it. Get over yourself.
Quick question. If you were the last person on earth, would you have sex with your cat/dog/horse? Yes or no? I know how much you love animals [snicker, snicker]…
Apocalyptic in Albany
Do mosquitoes wear full-length, leather trench coats? No.
Does three plus three equal nine? Negative.
Does Jennifer Lopez have what one might refer to as a “flat ass”? Not a chance.
If Britney Spears and Soulja Boy had a baby, would it ever be a candidate for the Nobel Prize in physics? As if.
Did Will Smith have sex with his dog in the movie “Armageddon” – whoops, I mean the movie “I Am Legend”? Of course he didn’t. He was too busy fighting off scary zombie people.
And if I were the last person on earth, I would rather have sex with my garden hose, or with the biggest can of spray paint I could find, or with two stalks of celery tied together with some dental floss, or with my own shoe, before I’d ever think to violate one of God’s creatures against its will.
If however, one of these critters (preferably a Clydesdale horse or something of that size) tried to have sex with me – I mean if I was just standing there all naked and bent over and everything – and it happened to come up behind me and well, you know, stick its dingle in my dangle, then that might be a different story, if the zombies hadn’t gotten to me by then, that is.
My partner and I have been together for eight years. Sex is OK, but whenever I ask her to tell me what she likes, she simply lies there and says, “Whatever you do is fine with me, Kenneth.” Fern, I want more pizzazz, more “umph”, more participation. Any suggestions?
Bored In The Bronx
If you’ve ever been inside a kindergarten classroom at the beginning of September, you’d know that it is a very noisy and chaotic place, especially around snack time. You’d also know that there is always at least one child who, every day, screams at the top of their lungs for their mommy or daddy to take them home. Yes, there is at least one little boy or girl who is very shy and nervous, who doesn’t want to be apart from his/her overprotective, new age parents, and who is a real bee in the teacher’s bonnet for the first six weeks of school.
“What a nightmare,” you say.
That’s why teachers NEED to have their summers off. The point is though, how does one handle a situation such as this? Well, from what I’ve seen, the kindergarten teacher will take the screaming child very firmly by the arm and whisper, “Don’t worry Dexter/Tallulah, your mommy/daddy will be back very soon. And we are going to have so much fun today. We are going to paint pictures and listen to stories and have a snack and play outside on the monkey bars…” This can be a very stressful time for the teacher, but with some patience and perseverance, the child eventually transforms into a well-adjusted classroom participant.
I think you should use this same technique with your partner, which means you will have to do a little coaxing. Tell her what SHE should to do to YOU. Tell her what YOU like. And when this communication leads to some pretty explosive sex, your partner should start opening up more herself. If not – if she remains a tight-lipped bore – then I’d suggest sending her to the principal’s office. At least then she’ll be out of your hair.
I'm madly in love with your Mother. Unfortunately, I love your Father too. What do you suggest?
Scott at the Y
By “Mother” are you referring the “The Blessed Mother Mary”? And by “Father” are you referring to “Our Father Jesus Christ”? Because if those are the people/deities to which you refer, then I see no problem. If, on the other hand, you are talking about MY mother and MY father, then THAT is a different matter altogether.
THAT would be like you are in the checkout line at Walmart and the woman in front of you has fishnet stockings tattooed on her legs.
THAT would be like seeing a toddler smoking a cigarette.
THAT would be like five thousand dead birds dropping from the sky for no apparent reason.
THAT would be like expecting to go on a date with Mark Wahlberg and having his brother Donnie show up instead, which happened to me once, BTW.
THAT would be messed up, that’s what THAT would be. But whatever floats your boat Scott. As for what to do about it, even though it may be a real creeper thing for you to be in love with both my mother AND my father, I believe in honesty when it comes to relationships. Thus, I think you should tell them both how you feel. Pour out your heart. Lay it all on the line. You never know what may come of it. People are into all kinds of kinky things these days.
I am six months pregnant. Since the end of my first trimester, my husband has refused to have sex with me. Even though he knows that it won’t hurt the baby, he says that he just doesn’t feel right about it. Help Fern, I am so randy that I think I just may explode. And sure, I’ve been pleasuring myself while Harold’s at work, but I am desperately craving the touch of another human being. What should I do? Hire an escort?
Prego in Paradise River
Dear Prego (The Baby, Not The Spaghetti Sauce Kind),
What a bummer. It’s like the time I tried composting with red wiggler worms. Granted it was a good way of being environmentally friendly without having to go outside, but logistically, it was a real pain in the you-know-what. For one thing, the worms were expensive and hard to find. You can’t buy them at Walmart after all. Secondly, I was limited to my food consumption and subsequent waste output because the worms could only eat so fast.
In the end, I had to give in to composting the old fashioned way by throwing all of my garbage into the back garden. No, I didn’t like the situation, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it. It’s the same for you, Prego. It sounds as if no amount of begging or pleading is going to change Harold’s mind. But look at it this way – you only have another five or six months to go.
And no, you shouldn’t hire an escort. I’ve tried them all out, and trust me, of the ten guys that are available across North America, you won’t find a “Ray Drecker” among them.
My husband and I go camping every year with two of his best friends and their families. Usually we have a great time, but this past summer, things were different. And I’m not exactly sure what brought on this sudden change in behavior – I mean yes, I may have started wearing my pants a little tighter and my shirts a little lower cut than normal to prevent myself from turning into a forty-five year old frump, but whatever.
Anyway, one night while I was getting some blankets out of the tent and everyone else was busy roasting marshmallows around the campfire, Tony – Vinny’s best friend from grade school – came up behind me, grabbed me around the waist and began fondling my breasts – hard. He was pretty rough but then again, he was also pretty drunk. Regardless, I’m positive that he knew what he was doing.
Now at the time, I didn’t say anything about it because I didn’t want to cause any trouble between Tony and my husband. Besides, everything seemed fine after that, until last weekend when it happened again.
It was Saturday night and Vinny and I were hosting a dinner party for about ten people, including Tony and his wife Sheila. When I went to get the dessert from the kitchen, Tony followed me saying, “Here, let me help you Kim. I really want to HELP you.” Once inside, Tony shoved me up against the counter and kissed me on the lips, his tongue probing deep into my mouth, his hands under my blouse within seconds, his all-too-apparent erection pressing urgently against my belly. Shocked, I pushed him away and ran back to the dining room. A few minutes later, Tony returned, pretending like nothing had happened.
Luckily, I managed to avoid him for the rest of the evening and when it was time for everyone to go home, I made some excuse about my stomach hurting and I hid in the bathroom. That was two days ago.
Now you may think that this is a straightforward case of “my husband’s best friend has a crush on me and I am totally repulsed by it”, but oh how I wish things were that simple. Here’s my issue – I love my husband very much. We have a great relationship and I would never want to hurt him. Problem is, the whole thing with Tony kind of excites me. He is a really good kisser and he smells good too. I can’t stop thinking about him and now when I am making love to Vinny, I see Tony’s face. Admittedly, sex with Vinny has been on fire lately, but that doesn’t mean I feel good about it.
What should I do? Should I tell Vinny what happened? Or should confront Tony? Or tell his wife? Sheila is a really nice woman and she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. Or maybe I should forget that anything ever happened? What do you think, Fern? My life and the welfare of my family depends on your answer, but please don’t feel pressured…
Hungry For My Husband’s BFF
Pressured, schmessured. Rest assured, I do not feel obligated to answer your question any faster or better than I would answer anyone else’s. Heartless I know, but I can’t let your problems become MY problems. What sort of help would I be then?
The way I see it, there are two issues afoot here: one, Tony’s out-of-line behavior, and two, the fact that you like it. I will deal with each issue in sequence.
With regard to Tony’s insolent conduct, if I were you, I’d go back to wearing my baggy clothes again – at least when he is around. I might even draw a few extra wrinkles on my face and put my hair in curlers. That should help turn him off of you.
As for issue number two – the fact that Tony is your new fantasy man – let me tell you a little story. See, I have this friend whom I will call Roland. He is the kind of friend who would do anything for me. Like if I said, “Hey Roland, I need someone to help me move,” he’d answer, “What time should I be there with the U-Haul and what kind of donuts do you like?” He’s the kind of friend who, if I said, “Hey Roland, there’s this guy at work who’s been bothering me,” he’d say, “Where does the bastard live?” Now just so you know, I don’t often take advantage of Roland’s good will, especially not the “I’ll hit him in the head with a baseball bat” kind of favors. I really just enjoy his company. It’s good to know however that he’d be there for me if I ever needed him.So I say, be pleased that Tony finds you attractive. Use that knowledge to fuel the passion between you and Vinny. Lord knows that long-time relationships can always use a little extra spark.