I’m a Leo who has had a controlling guy friend for a year and a half. He is a Libra, and has me completely under a spell. He is hooked on internet dating, but doesn’t want to let me go. Usually I just put up with it, just so I can still see him. I think he loves me, but he had a bad breakup a few years ago, and said the internet saved his life. I know he wants to be with me, as bad as I want to be with him, which only makes it worse because sometimes when we are apart for a few weeks, and see each other again, he just clings to me. I’m not a dog, and could get other guys, but I just can’t pull out of this. My friends think I’m crazy. Any advice???

Today I’m debuting a new feature here on “Dear Wendy” I’m calling “Short Cuts.” Each reply to a reader’s letter will be short — super short. As in, two sentences or less. And, no, this isn’t just because I’m feeling lazy and want to go out and enjoy the beautiful weather; sometimes the answer to a person’s question is so obvious and the need to hear it so great, being as clear and frank as possible is simply the best way to go. And, OK, fine, maybe I am just feeling lazy. Feel free to add your own two cents in the comments, and after the jump check out our first edition of “short cuts” (don’t be surprised if this becomes a regular feature on especially lovely Friday afternoons ... just saying).

Three years ago, off the back of a bad relationship, I needed out of Southern California and decided to move to London for six months. I was looking forward to being single for the first time in five years and was relishing the chance to dance, date and drink in a massive, heaving city. I would kick up my heels in swanky clubs, live in a Tudor cottage and date a man who wore a bowler hat and carried an umbrella.

Three weeks later, I opened the front door to find my roommate’s brother, Mark, standing there with a bag in one hand, a bicycle in the other. He had just left his wife and three children and needed a place to stay.

The first time someone tried to rob me, it was four in the morning. I was in a desolate part of town, I was tipsy, and it was my birthday. A guy came up from behind my sister and me and tried to grab her purse. Without even thinking, I grabbed it back and screamed, “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Expecting an easy grab-and-go, the guy freaked out, turned and ran. I took off after him, intent on beating the crap out of him. At precisely the same moment, we both realized he was twice my size. He turned towards me and I high-tailed it back down the street, shrieking like the scaredy cat I am.

Now if I had to advise someone what to do if a big guy tries to rob them, threatening death and chasing him would not even be in my top five suggestions. But my beer-addled nervous system threw my body first into fight, and then into flight. (Thank God!)

There comes a time in just about every relationship where you get so angry at the other person, you’re not sure whether you should stay and duke it out (figuratively, of course), or throw in the towel and cut your losses.

I always change after I’ve slept with someone. It’s a subtle metamorphosis, but one I can count on—after sex, I feel emotionally attached. Even if the sex was boring, or painful, or just plain eh, afterward I always start to picture myself in a relationship with the person—sitting on the couch watching a movie, walking the dog we’ll no doubt adopt, sometimes even walking down the aisle. As such, casual sex is just something I’ve never considered. How exactly does one detach their feelings for one night of sexual fervor?

Thus, you could imagine my surprise when Jack offered to be my “pal with privileges.”

Married? Got a girlfriend? In a loving and committed sexual relationship? Then you’re probably having sex, at least some of the time. But how often is often enough? And can you be doing it too much? Let Emily McCombs advise you on how much sex you should (and shouldn’t) be having. Read more ...

Do you rock at trivia? Listen to the music on your iPod with big, “Natalie Portman in ‘Garden State’” headphones? Have a slight lisp? Guess what? Guys—or at least the guys at Asylum—find those qualities hot. We appreciate that they took the time to ruminate on these oh-so-randomly-inexplicable sexy qualities. So, in return, we’ve put together a list of 25 guys we find hot, though we don’t quite know why ...

A recent issue of a woman’s magazine instructed their readers to date “nerds.”

The article read like it was written by a bunch of mean girl anthropologists in little black dresses who just discovered a whole new species of men. They seemed so happy to find guys who weren’t smug investment bankers, aging jocks, or sociopathic musicians.

But by their definition, a nerd is a scrawny, wheezing, socially awkward savant utterly devoted to any woman who pays him even the slightest attention. That’s not a nerd. That’s a Mole Person. A shut-in with Mommy issues. Human veal. 

Allowing these sorority girl scribblers to explain nerds is like asking a Klingon to explain The Force. I am qualified to characterize what a nerd is, namely because I am a nerd. [Obviously.—Editor Amelia] An alpha nerd. I love what I love, and I own it. An alpha nerd can love Lord of the Rings, and the company of women. The two are not mutually exclusive.

The recently announced cast of “Dancing with the Stars” includes some unlikely picks—um, Buzz Aldrin?—but I doubt any of them trump my boyfriend Michael when it comes to dance floor incompetence. He is clownish and rhythmically challenged, prone to hip-thrusting, butt-bumping, and the occasional fist-pumping.

It’s a wonder I can even publicly admit this, considering my dancing past. A musical theater junkie and eldest daughter of four spotlight-loving girls, I grew up with a very distinct idea of my dream dance partner/boyfriend: He would be suave, strong, and graceful, and oozing with old-fashion charm.

Last week I complained about the challenging time I was having on my latest foray into online dating. A little while later, Susannah IM’d to say: “You need to change your profile. And I am going to do it for you.” Oh, hooray! To be honest, I had been considering having someone I trust rewrite my profile for me, since I wasn’t sure if I was doing a great job of “selling” myself. Susannah was the first to volunteer, and, as she is rather blunt, I knew she wouldn’t pussyfoot around doing it right. After the jump, read my original online dating profile and then check out Susannah’s version. Stay tuned to see whether my luck with the fellas improves after being Susannified.

All the recent hullabaloo over John Mayer telling Playboy that Jessica Simpson was "sexual napalm," and her subsequent dismay at having everyone know she's like crack in the sack, has got me thinking about kissing and telling. Frankly, I have been known to share, in extreme detail, some of my boot-knockin' stories with friends -- and I've certainly written about my sex life (which always involves, duh, a partner) on this here site. In short, I totally kiss and tell, but there are some lines I won't cross. What do you think?

Academy Award winner Kathryn Bigelow may be dating Mark Boal, the “Hurt Locker” screenwriter. Her ex-husband is James Cameron. This makes Kathryn, according to Gawker, a jobsexual: “a person who either works so much, or loves so much to work that she always seems to end up dating the guy one desk over.”  But what’s so weird about meeting someone at work? Even non-workaholics spend most of their waking hours on the job, and if you can manage to perform well at work (which Kathryn has, with two Oscars to prove it) and find someone to smooch, what’s the issue? Should we start calling women who always date guys they meet at bars “barsexuals”?

I stopped drinking when I was 29. I was tired of the consequences outweighing the benefits—tired of calling in sick to work, tired of hooking up with people I would have run from sober, tired of crying and throwing things for no reason. Oh, and did I mention I was tired of all the drama drinking brought to my love life? Sure, there were the occasional incident-free drunken date nights. But when men were brought into the mix(ed drink), I didn’t tend to remain the cute, funny little version of me. My usually-sharp wit would dull into a mushy puddle of need. You know what I’m talking about: “You don’t realllllllly love me! I don’t believe you love me! I need you to love me! Do you promise you love me?” Ugh.

Every woman has that magic button that, when pushed, gets her instantly in the mood for sexy times. We asked 10 women to share what makes their panties drop, without fail.

After almost two months of not seeing the sun and living through constantly overcast skies, things are finally starting to brighten up here in Paris, and it’s made a crazy difference in my life. I’m seriously considering relocating during the winter months to a warmer climate—this year taught me a crazy lesson in seasonal depression.

Maybe it was daylight savings time this weekend (NOTE—Oops, it took me a while to figure out that DST doesn’t happen here until next week. I was off by an hour for a whole day!), but all of a sudden I feel like things are moving really quickly, almost in such a way that I feel like I’m already at the finish line (wherever that may be) looking back. This past week went by in a flash. My parents were in town, which meant living on an intense tourist schedule, ushering them around the Louvre and through the crowded streets of Montmartre, plus getting us to London for the weekend and back. Exhausting! This visit was weird because it was really the first time I’d ever hosted my parents and been living in a world that was entirely different from theirs ...

There comes a time in every woman’s life when she finds the man of her dreams—with the exception of one flaw.

Today, that flaw is his body odor.

Contrary to public opinion, we prefer to exhibit ladylike behavior—and in accordance, we’d never crush a man’s self-esteem by telling him straight-up that his B.O. reeks. So we asked you for advice: How do you tactfully tell a guy he smells? Read more ...

My boy bestie, our own Mind of Man John DeVore, wrote a hilarious piece for GuySpeak.com called “You Might Be A Player If ...” directed at dudes. Like:

You might be a player if ... you own as much leather as you do denim. And you wear your sunglasses on your head like a tiara.

Mississippi’s Itawamba County School District has decided it would rather cancel an entire high school prom than host one where a lesbian student can wear a tuxedo and bring a female date. The district announced the prom was off after the ACLU pressured it to change its policy and allow Constance McMillen, 18, to bring her girlfriend, a fellow student, to the dance. Read more ...

Allow me to be neurotic for a few hundred words.

I’ve been back on the online dating circuit for a grand total of 4.5 days and I already hate it. The whole process, frankly, kind of hurts my self-esteem. It makes me feel like the last kid picked in dodgeball. The site that I’m using affords you the opportunity to know who’s been looking at your profile. On one hand, it’s a great way of weeding through the hundreds of “matches” in my area, so I can focus on the men who found my thumbnail photo cute enough to deem worthy of further review. On the other hand, those same men, upon clicking deeper into my profile, did not have their interest piqued enough to send me a message, add me to their “like” list, or grant me a “wink.”