In today’s Dear Prudence letter, a woman going by the name of “Feeling Dirty” wrote in “grossed out” and “confused” that her boyfriend of two years seems to be turned on every time she poops — especially if it’s of the diarrhea variety. The woman, who mentions that she grew up in a house where bathroom behavior was never discussed, admits that she’s one of those secret poopers, even in her own home, which she shares with her boyfriend, “Ron.” She writes:
“Now that ‘Ron’ and I are living together, I have to divulge certain information on a need to know basis. More specifically, if I have diarrhea. These times I have had to explain, ‘You may not want to go in there for a while.’ The weird thing is, 15 minutes or so after telling him such, Ron initiates sex. I find it gross and confusing. He knows how uncomfortable I feel as it is. This has happened four times so far. He denies a pattern or that it’s unusual. Am I the one being weird about this?”
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Slate.com’s modus operandi is to troll the hell out of everyone. Today’s piece by Dear Prudence author Emily Yoffe, “College Women: Stop Getting Drunk,” is a classic example.
In her piece, Yoffe recounts a statistic from a 2009 study that 80 percent of campus sexual assaults involve alcohol. She then gives what she thinks is sound personal safety advice for “young and naive women,” but it’s actually a slippery slope to victim blaming:
Perpetrators are the ones responsible for committing their crimes, and they should be brought to justice. But we are failing to let women know that when they render themselves defenseless, terrible things can be done to them. Young women are getting a distorted message that their right to match men drink for drink is a feminist issue. The real feminist message should be that when you lose the ability to be responsible for yourself, you drastically increase the chances that you will attract the kinds of people who, shall we say, don’t have your best interest at heart. That’s not blaming the victim; that’s trying to prevent more victims.
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Love, sweet love — it’s basically a transactional agreement between two people who believe that they’ve successfully traded upon their skills and abilities to find a suitable mate. No? That’s not your definition of love? What about if you’re really, really pretty? And maybe you think you could find a richer, more successful man by trading on your looks? Meet Dear Prudence letter writer “Sincerely Shallow,” who asked the advice columnist just that. Here’s her question:
“I’m recently engaged to the most honest, thoughtful, and loving man I’ve ever met. He has supported me through many hard times, including losing my job and being assaulted. Here’s the but about him: He makes no money. He has ambitions, and he’s smart, but will likely only bring a middle-class income at best. I have an OK job and I’m self-sufficient. Now here’s the but about me: I’m really, really pretty. My whole life people have told me I could get any man I want, meaning a rich man, and are shocked that I’m engaged to my fiancé, nice though he is. I’ve never dated a rich man, but it does make me curious. So part of me thinks I’m squandering my good looks on this poor man, and the other part of me thinks that I’m so shallow that I don’t even deserve him or anyone else. Am I a fool for thinking that a poor man can make me happy, or an idiot for believing a sexist fantasy?”
Before you say I’m bashing her just because she has high self-esteem, give me a sec. Keep reading »
A few weeks ago, I had to have an awkward conversation with O’Boyfriend about appropriate versus inappropriate times to grab my butt, or as the Irish call it, my “bum.”
“I like it when you grab my butt in bed, cuddling or playful moments that feels like foreplay,” I told him. “I don’t like it when you do it at completely unsexy moments, like when I’m covering up a pimple or flossing my teeth. Then it’s just weird and awkward and annoying.”
He seemed to get the point. Playful bum-grabbing: good. Annoying bum-grabbing: bad.
If only this poor woman who wrote Dear Prudence about her boyfriend’s face-licking problem was as lucky! Keep reading »
Here’s a fun one for you. Let me say first: People never cease to impress me with their strangeness. This week, in Slate’s Dear Prudence column, a woman ponders whether or not she should date the guy at the gym who SNIFFED HER SWEATY BICYCLE SEAT. Keep reading »
In a recent Dear Prudence column, a woman wrote in, concerned about her fiancé’s aversion to her scent. She wrote:
“Last night, a bit too much wine prompted my fiancé to tell me a secret he’s been keeping for years: He thinks I smell bad. And that’s why our sex life has been on the decline. I know I do sweat more than some people, but I shower daily and always use deodorant. I can’t figure out if I am actually as bad as he says or if he just thinks I’m stinky because he is lucky enough to have totally odorless sweat. I am seriously considering calling off the wedding because of this.”
Prudence advises her to seek medical evaluation for her odor, adding, “If you feel your fiancé told you in a cruel or malicious way, or you think he is establishing the groundwork for breaking up with you, then you need to engage in a frank discussion about where your romance is headed.” Keep reading »
“Trying to ruin someone else’s life is a poor way to address one’s alcohol and self-control problems.”
This is true. But is this really the most intelligent — to say nothing of compassionate — thing for an advice columnist to say to someone whose friend was possibly date raped?
No, Dear Prudence at Slate.com, it was not.
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Meet “So Incredibly Humiliated,” a woman whose relationship threatens to collapse on its shaky foundations thanks to the most vile and villainous transgression of them all: farting. Yes, that’s right, “So Incredibly Humiliated” wrote Slate advice columnist “Dear Prudence” because it seems she might have accidentally farted a couple of times in front of her boyfriend – in her sleep! — and now she’s afraid he may never speak to her again. Read on… Keep reading »
Slate’s Dear Prudence has gotten a letter from a woman with a real problem on her hands: her man has a tiny penis. She’s 30, and he’s a great guy, but his penis is so small, after Googling the matter, she came to the conclusion that he may have a “micropenis.” What’s the problem? “When you can’t feel anything during the act, that’s a problem.” We’re going to have to agree on that one.
Find out what Prudie advises, and then tell us in the comments what you’d tell the woman with the man with the small penis. Keep reading »
Over at Slate, advice columnist Dear Prudence tackles an epic question of breast proportions: Should a woman get a boob job because her boyfriend is a fan of all the big breasts that he sees in porn movies? “I am a B cup,” she writes, “and although he says he loves my body, he adds, ‘But I’d really like it if your breasts were larger.’” How’s she know that? He watches porn on the regular, because, he says, he prefers a different body type to hers. Oh, and she used to be a model. So. Yeah. Prudie suggests she ask her man if he’s interested in getting penis enlargement surgery, and then, maybe! And also tell him to basically shove it. And to not get implants. Which Prudie thinks will make him feel relieved. Which I am not so sure about. I guess I feel like if you are writing to an advice columnist about whether or not you should get breast implants because your boyfriend watches a lot of porn, you should spend less time writing to advice columnists and more time finding a new man. But, you know, I’m not an advice columnist. [Slate] Keep reading »