Shrek is an Ass

A few months ago, I found myself thinking about Shrek for the first time in a long time. A few months into our relationship, he told me that his mother had terminal cancer and was not seeking treatment for it. She only had a couple of months to live. When I asked him about it, he wouldn't say anything. He would lash out at me for no reason or tell me that I needed to be more sensitive to what he's going through. I spent the next year walking on eggshells around him for fear that something would upset him.

His mother sent him cards monthly over the next year we were dating, and they were all chipper and mentioned nothing about the cancer. At the time I just thought they all were ignoring it and that was how they dealt with it. After the first month when he brought it up, he never spoke a word about it again. I didn't ask him any questions about it because I didn't want to bring up a sore area. When he wouldn't talk, I just assumed it was too hard, not that he didn't know how to follow through with his story. Despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I accepted that his mother did have cancer. I trusted the person I was dating, so the idea that he would make up an outrageous lie about his mom never even crossed my mind once.

Then a couple of months ago I found myself thinking about it again. So I did what any crazy person would do and Googled his mom. Not only did I not find her obituary, I found plenty of evidence that she was alive and well. Eight years later.

I found myself suddenly remembering the circumstances of when he first told me. It was after we got back together after er had broken up due to the fact he had slept with a girl who lived on my floor. It seems so obvious now. Of course he had done this to manipulate me into putting up with his terrible behavior. He knew were were on thin ice and the only way he could think to keep me around was to make me think his mother was dying.

After my revelation, I spent the next few days beyond angry with myself. I was furious that I had let myself believe such a ridiculous lie. I spent over a year with him after the news because I thought he needed someone. He was consistently horrible to me, but I put up with it because I was convinced that he was going through what I imagined to be the most traumatic thing possible. The whole time, the only one going through something terrible was me. I'd never been so disappointed in myself.

Until I realized that I'm not the loser in this situation. I'm not the one who is so insufferable that the only way I can keep someone with me is to convince them my mom is dying.

Seriously Shrek, you're a fucking tool.

South of the Border

When I first met Fred, he decided one day that he wanted to go on an impromptu road trip to Mexico. After having gotten out of a terrible relationship with Shrek, I was up for any sort of adventure. So I quickly packed a bag and was ready to go. As we were walking to the car, he informed me that he actually was driving some friends to Texas for a party, but we would drop them off then go to Mexico. It seemed a little weird, but whatever.

When the friends (a guy and a girl who were dating) got in the car, it was obvious that they had no idea about the Mexico plans. Fred brought it up, and the girl freaked out. She immediately made it clear that she wanted to be back home in time for their anniversary dinner the following night. She made it very clear that she believed I was the one insisting on the Mexico trip.

Well, despite his friends' objections, Fred insisted we go to Mexico anyway after dropping them off. So we drove late into the night, staying at a cheesy motel right across the border so we could cross over first thing in the morning.

The trip over the Mexico was a unique experience. We mainly just drank and bought the tackiest souvenirs we could find. One thing that really stuck out though was how many people tried to sell us drugs. After turning down some, Fred told me he thought we should buy some illegal substances. I told him no, since I really didn't want to get stopped by border patrol and go to jail over some Mexican weed. He was insistent, but finally accepted that I was not going to allow it to happen.

It was a good thing I didn't give in. Sure enough, we were stopped by border patrol. Fred was asked to pull over and have his car searched. He tried to convince me it was because he had New York tags. This didn't make sense to me then and it still doesn't make sense to me now. We were pulled into separate rooms, questioned and searched. I had no clue what was going on. I didn't know if he had bought some drugs while I was in the bathroom and didn't tell me or what. When the border patrol agent told me the dogs had smelled drugs in the car, I almost passed out.

After two hours in the border patrol station we were finally free to go. As we were driving away, I asked Fred what the whole incident was all about. He chuckled that he had been hot boxing in his car the day before we left. Charming.

We got back to pick up his friends late, and the girl was none too pleased. She made it very clear that she felt I was the one to blame and proceeded to give me the stink eye the entire way back. The two friends ended up getting married and living in the same area as me, so I see them from time to time at alumni events. The guy is very friendly, but the girl still goes out of her way to give me the stink eye.

As truly annoying as this is, Fred's gift of a lifelong enemy still isn't nearly as horrible as the gift of the lifelong memory of my run in with the law. Thanks for the awesome souvenirs!

My Boyfriend is Weird

There are a lot of reasons my boyfriend is great. He likes everything I cook, he knows exactly what books and magazines to get me when I am sick, he lets me test eye creams on him, he is proud of me for being thrifty when I use a coupon for his birthday dinner, he can usually dress himself.

But despite all his great qualities, he's freaking weird. Earlier this week, he realized there was a mosquito in his apartment. It happens, we live in a swamp. Little did I know he had a solution to the mosquito problem.

Early this morning, he left my apartment, returning 45 minutes later with an interesting purchase.



Yours for only $44 on Amazon.

 Yes, he bought a freaking bug zapper to use inside his apartment to take out a single mosquito. Furthermore, since he is concerned about the fire hazard aspect of this, he plans to sit up all night until the bug gets zapped.

The Crimes of Inanimate Objects

My fiance is fast on his way to becoming my ex-fiance. It has not been the easiest process (and has not been without a fair bit of bad behavior on my part), but its high time he got a loser-ex post of his very own.

I'm going to try to tell this story without falling into "why my ex deserves to rot in hell" territory, so there's going to be a good bit left out. But what's left is still pretty nuts.

Let's start by saying that, of the contributors to this blog, I am likely the most tolerant, most liberal, and least affluent one of the bunch, with the shortest list of deal-breakers. I'm also the only one still stuck in the South, so maybe I just have less to choose from. At any rate, I put up with things that, frankly, I don't think RGB would. In fact, last time I saw her, she point blank told me that she had very serious concerns about my current relationship. I'm pretty sure she told me that I SHOULD NOT marry my fiance. And she was, as she so often is, right. But this blog is not about the serious reasons for the demise of our relationships, so we aren't going to get into that.

I'm a bit of a partier (causing RGB to despair of my poor behavior on numerous occasions). So, naturally, I often end up with men of a similar mindset. My soon-to-be ex-fiance (let's call him Beethoven) is an example of this.

Beethoven had (how shall I put it?) a problem with illegal recreational substances--and not just the relatively innocuous one you're probably thinking of. He has since gotten over this, but when we were first dating it was bad. Unfortunately, it took me quite some time to understand just how bad it was.

One night, after we had moved in together, he came home quite intoxicated--alcohol, plus other things. I tried to get him to go to bed, but we ended up in an argument instead. He left and I went to bed.

Several hours later, I awoke to screaming coming from the living room. I walked into the room to find Beethoven sitting on the love seat, yelling at my body pillow (which was propped upright on the sofa), accusing it of having stolen the television. And, indeed, our large and expensive flat-screen television was gone.

You can imagine my confusion. I was still groggy and Beethoven was telling me that a pillow had stolen our television. Looking back on it, several years later, it has become no less absurd.

To this day, we do not know what happened to the television. Beethoven has no memory of the night and our best lead implicates a navy blue body pillow in the theft.

So, beware of rogue pillows. Apparently, they are more sinister than they first appear.

An Open Letter to a Particular Loser

Dear Loser,

I'm glad you were able to make it to the event on Friday. I hope you had a good weekend. Mine wasn't so great. Well, what I remember of it anyway. Oh, that reminds me. Thanks for slipping me a roofie.

I had thought that date rape drugs were limited to frat keggers, but you really took it to the next level by drugging my drink at a professional event. Classy. Like most people, I naively thought that only 19 year-old fratstars have the necessary lack of compassion to drug an unwitting woman, but you have shown me that even middle-aged men with wives, kids and houses in the suburbs are capable of this disgusting act. You're a fucking sociopath. Trust me, I will be much better about watching my drink in the future.

I will also be much better about watching your creepy ass, and so will everyone else I tell this to. If you feel like you're getting a lot of dirty looks at a party one day, it's not your imagination.

Thank you for the valuable lesson in safety. I'm sorry I made it to a cab before you could rape me.

Cheers!

RGB

Jeepers Creepers

I recently went on a trip and since the mailman has not been delivering my Economist, I was stuck with nothing to read except Cosmopolitan. So I read it like a million times. And while I enjoyed reading the article that made Lea Michele sound like an insufferable bitch, I was a little shocked by some of the advice they are giving to women.

In the past, Cosmo has given really bad advice, like suggesting you use a thong to tie your hair back during sex. Or that you stick your scrunchie on your man's dong (Really, who wears scrunchies? That advice is sooo 1993). Or that you decorate your room by putting a colorful scarf over a lamp (Hello, fire hazard). In fact, more than a few times, I have speculated that the writers are making fun of their readership. But, of all the bad advice Cosmo has given throughout the years, this issue really took the cake.

The article in question discussed ways to meet men. Some of the suggestions were actually pretty good. For example, throwing a party and telling your friends to each bring someone you don't know. This is a good way to meet people. The chance that your future husband is already in your extended social circle is pretty good. Plus, you know he's not a total psychopath if your friend hangs out with him.

But some of the ideas were shockingly terrible. One was that you meet cute doctors by hanging out in the hospital cafeteria. Seriously. There is so much wrong with this. First, the food is nasty. Second, this is a place where people go when they're sick, not a place to go to meet men. That is just wrong. Then, there is the fact that you're bothering some poor guy at work. This is especially bad considering that being a doctor is really stressful to begin with. The last thing a "cute doctor" needs is to be hit on when he's trying to grab a sandwich and get back to saving lives. This wasn't the only suggestion to creepily stalk people at their place of work.

There was another suggestion to look up Realtors online, find a cute one, then call to schedule an appointment to see something he is selling. Really? You think it's cute to waste someone's time? Not to mention it is beyond creepy to stalk someone on the Internet then get them to meet you under false pretenses. Just imagine if this were the other way around and some creepy man looked for attractive female Realtors online and then made appointments just to hit on them. This is gross and would probably be grounds for a restraining order in some places. 

I find it incredibly irritating when someone hits on me at a work function. I would be livid and creeped out if I then discovered that the person hitting on me wasn't there on any sort of business other than to hit on women. Seriously. Do not bother people at work.

Also, really, Cosmo? You do a ton of pieces about how to stop creepy men then turn around and encourage women to be creeps? Not cool.

Crazy for you

I am an anxious person. This is a fact. You would notice after talking to me for 5 minutes. I fidget constantly. I worry about everything. I panic over mundane details. I'm better now than I've ever been. I think that's just part of growing up, you realize that nothing is really that important. The world won't come to an end if I take a sick day. We aren't all going to die if I throw a party without a signature cocktail. Really, none of this is important.

Years ago, I didn't realize this and still worried about everything. My anxiety was out of control and I was on medication for it. Though, once I sought treatment for my anxiety it got better. I really wasn't different from any other person at that point. I didn't tell many people about this because of the stigma associated with mental health problems. It was my dark secret.

Shrek knew about this. Telling him was a mistake. I was open and honest about everything and explained to him what my situation was like. He didn't get it. Or he chose not to. He insisted I needed a one way ticket to the looney bin. He took every opportunity to remind me that I was crazy. One time he couldn't find a shirt, and I asked him if he had checked his hamper. He screamed at me and accused me of not taking my medication. Because I suggested he look in his hamper. Seriously. Oh, and for the record, it was there.

He told me I would never be able to get a job after college because of my psychological problems. He told me I would never be able to have children or even a pet. He told me I would never be able to get anyone else to date me. If I tried to have a conversation with him, he would interrupt me by singing "Crazy." When he did not get the grades to keep his scholarship, he wrote a letter to the dean citing my "severe mental illness" as the reason he was unable to keep his grades up.

Seriously. Shrek was an asshole. I've tip-toed around the issue in the past by only bitching about silly little things he did. But, the real reason I hate him is because he knew about something I was insecure about. And rather than accept this, he exploited it.

I'd like to suggest that when the DSM-V is created, there is an entry for being an asshole. Shrek can be a case study.

Blown Away

I was at a Katrina fundraiser a while back and encountered one of the single most aggressive acts of jackassery ever.

I was on my way to the bathroom when I was accosted by some scrawny little French guy.

Frenchie: I am French and I want to tell you that you look perfect. Everything. Your dress (side note, I was wearing a navy Ports number and it was pretty perfect), your face, your body.

Me: uhh.....thanks?

Frenchie: I want to kiss you.

Me: No.

At this point, Frenchie aggressively tries to kiss me I am pushing him away while telling him I have a boyfriend and am not interested. He starts speaking in French. I start telling him in French (apparently he didn't understand my protests in English) that I have a boyfriend who is right over there and said boyfriend is going to kick his ass. After one good push, I run to the bathroom and lock the door. When I come back out, I quickly grab my boyfriend and leave.

Some women fantasize about foreign men seducing them. I find them skeezy and dread encountering another brazen and horny foreigner. Seriously though, there is nothing sexy about cornering some poor woman and trying kiss her when she has made it very clear that she is not interested.

Only in Dreams

I've been having really weird dreams lately. In one of my dreams last night (yeah, I can just hear everyone clicking away from this page now), I was at my parents' house with some friends and family members. We were washing cars in the driveway (my parents have a lot of cars). For some reason Fred was there. He was getting on my nerves, so I asked him to go get my car and bring it around. He got my car and drove it into my neighbor's garage and got it locked in there. They were out of town, so I couldn't get it out. I remember asking my mom "how the hell did that even happen?"

Even in my dreams, Fred fucks up mundane tasks. Loser.

Also, I should stop drinking before bedtime.

I Love DC in the Springtime

OK, well, maybe it's not exactly springtime yet, but it's starting to get warm.

For some reason, as soon as it warms up, I am subjected to the ridiculous catcalls of creepy dudes. Yesterday was the first warm day in a long time. During my short time outside, I got an "oh la la," (no, he was not French), an incoherent shout from a moving vehicle, and the creepy guy who insists he's a photographer and wants to hire me as a model. Right. And this was just walking three blocks. I should probably add here that I am not wearing anything even remotely provocative. Seriously. I could be going to lunch with my grandma.

Seriously? What the hell? Staring at my tits and saying "oh la la" is not flattering. It's creepy. Just don't do it. And the photographer thing? That's even more lame. I am not going to be your model. I have a job. And the modeling ship sailed ten years and twenty pounds ago.

But, my real problem is with the drive-by pick up lines, mainly because it is not an uncommon occurrence. I am truly amazed at the number of men who think this is a good idea.

Why the hell do these losers do this? Has this ever worked on anyone? Dummies, no one is impressed by whatever you're yelling out your car window. Even if you do manage to come up with something truly interesting, most women are still going to be skeeved out by the fact you're yelling it out of a car. I'm really not sure what results these men are expecting. I really can't imagine someone being so impressed that they drop everything they're doing and jump in the car with some strange man and ride off into the sunset. Although, according to this month's Cosmo, the most dangerous mistake women make is getting in the car with strange men. So, who knows, maybe there are women this works on.

Obviously, none of these losers are my exes, but they're sure as hell somebody's loserex.

Happy Valentine's Day!

It's that time of year again. All of us here at LoserEx want to wish you a happy Valentine's Day. Since we've exhausted all our stories of crappy Valentine's Day presents, we've decided to give you your own crappy present to give someone else. Just print these suckers out and you have an instant crappy gift.  

You're welcome.



LoserEx Answers Your Questions

Here at LoserEx, we consider ourselves experts on dating. And as such, we feel qualified to give out unsolicited advice. Unlike other advice columns, we're not very tactful. Actually, we're pretty bitchy. We plan to continue giving our advice to people who sound like they need it, whether they want it or not. If you actually want our advice on something, feel free to email us.

Today's question comes from The Washington Post's "Dear Prudence" chat.

Hi Prudie - I love your writing and now I come to you for advice. There is this girl I have been interested in. I'm sure we will get along great when we finally get together. Anyway, I keep track of her through facebook, and recently she changed some settings that allowed me to see a bunch of her pictures. Needless to say, I was shocked. From what I can tell, she has had THREE boyfriends in the past two years. She also has lots of pictures of her in somewhat compromising positions with other girls, and also lots of pictures with alcohol. I was expecting her to be a nice clean girl, but obviously now I feel I have to let her go. Is this a normal occurrence in the young adult dating world? Or should I continue to keep trying to find the right one. Thanks!


ZOMG! THREE BOYFRIENDS?!?!?!?! SOMEBODY SOUND THE SLUT ALARM!!!!

Seriously, this girl is not some harlot for having had three boyfriends in the past two years. That averages 8 months a boyfriend. There is really nothing bad about dating men for a few months at a time (also, I am assuming she is pretty young, so she should be dating). Based on the fact that you think this is shockingly inappropriate, I am guessing these "compromising situations" are probably pretty tame. Like, maybe she is holding a drink in some pictures or wearing a skirt that exposes her ankles.

You don't say how well you know this girl in person, but based on the fact that you were horrified at the pictures of her doing what are probably normal activities for her, I am going to guess the answer is little to not at all.

I'm thinking you don't get out of the house much. You sound incredibly sheltered and seem to have no clue what normal people are like. Or maybe you're just a member of a very conservative religion, in which case, maybe you should try to meet women at your place of worship. They are more likely to share your values than the women you stalk on Facebook. On a related note, do not stalk women on Facebook. It is so creepy and no reasonable woman would want to date you after finding out you do this.

Is this a normal occurrence in the young adult dating world? Or should I continue to keep trying to find the right one. Thanks!

It is not normal for adults to stalk people on Facebook and develop weird fantasy crushes on them. It is normal for women to drink. It is probably normal for women to end up in what you consider "compromising situations." I'm not really sure what your standards are, so I can't say whether it is worth trying to find someone who meets them. However, given your strange courtship habits, I think you need to see a therapist before pursuing another relationship.

Mardi Gross

My alumni association hosts an annual party for Mardi Gras. It's one of the major events we have each year. Also, it is a formal thing. OK, well not formal-formal, but women wear cocktail dresses, and men wear suits (except for the hand full who always show up in tuxedos). I feel like I have to express this because people hear "Mardi Gras" and think "Show your tits!" It's not by any means a boobie-flashing kegger.

Fred and I went to the same college, so sometimes he shows up at alumni events. He showed up to the Mardi Gras party a couple of years ago (we were broken up at the time) and hilarity ensued. I've mentioned before that Fred cannot behave himself in public and often finds a way to make even the most mundane public events excruciatingly humiliating. Well, this time he really outdid himself.

Sure, there were moments where I felt embarrassed for him that night. His loud, brutish behavior, his date's wardrobe malfunction. But the crown jewel of the night was something I did not find out about until much later.

The venue at which the party takes place is a beautiful townhouse/gallery with a lot of history. The decorations have an early-American feel in line with the history of the place (so Washington!). It has several heavy wooden tables, bookcases and desks. Well, Fred decided that the furniture was too pretty to just look at. So he rummaged one of the desks and discovered a digital camera in one of the drawers. He decided to have some fun.

First he (or someone else) took pictures of him smiling and giving the camera the middle finger. How nice. Then, he decided that was not enough and took the camera to the bathroom and proceeded to take pictures of his junk. Seriously. He found a strange camera and decided to take pictures of his penis. Nothing I can say here will add to this.

He returned the camera to its location, leaving the elderly groundskeeper (to whom the camera belonged) to discover it later. And I'm sure he thought he would get away with it too. But, since he was smart enough to take face pictures first, it was really easy to identify him. The hand in the penis picture had a sleeve that matched his jacket in the face picture. Dumbass.

I hope he gave up self-portraiture for Lent.

LoserEx Answers Your Questions

Here at LoserEx, we consider ourselves experts on dating. And as such, we feel qualified to give out unsolicited advice. Unlike other advice columns, we're not very tactful. Actually, we're pretty bitchy. We plan to continue giving our advice to people who sound like they need it, whether they want it or not. If you actually want our advice on something, feel free to email us.

Today's questions come from the Washington Post live chat:

Marriage for kids?: Hi Carolyn, Thanks for taking my question. I just found out I'm pregnant. I'm slowly getting to be very happy about this news even though it was not, ahem, planned. My boyfriend wants to get married before the baby comes. But is a baby the right reason to get married? I've not always been supportive of marriage because I've seen what happens to friends when they divorced and it wouldn't have been nearly as messy if that slip of paper was not involved and they could have just walked away. If it helps, we're both mid to late thirties but haven't been together very long.

You're having a kid with this man but you don't want to get married for fear a break-up would be messy? If you do break up five years down the line, without having ever gotten married, how do you see this working out? You have a kid together. You don't get to just walk away anymore. I don't really care if you get married or not, but just realize either way you're not going to be making a clean break.

Also, if you choose to get married, please choose a small tasteful ceremony (maybe even just going to the courthouse) over a big white wedding. There is nothing tackier than a visibly pregnant bride waddling down the aisle of a church in a fluffy white gown, flanked by 7 bridesmaids. Seriously. I'm embarrassed for you just thinking about it.


Washington DC: Carolyn -- Can you think of any reason it would ever be ok for your boyfriend to hack in and read your email? Or is that pretty much always a dealbreaker?

I would like to elaborate on Carolyn Hax's response here (which was "Dealbreaker.").

If your boyfriend is hacking into your email, he does not trust you. I do not know whether this is merited, but that doesn't matter. If a basic level of trust cannot exist, you guys should not date. If you continue to date him, he will continue to read your email (trust me on this one, once that door has been opened, there is no turning back) and probably find other ways to spy on you as well. You deserve to be with someone who trusts you and respects your privacy. Your boyfriend does not. Just dump him. Seriously.

Then change all your passwords.

On a related note, if you're ever thinking about snooping through your significant other's email/text messages/voicemail/secret diary, take a hard look at your relationship. Chances are it's time to end things.

Really, I'm Not Going Anywhere or Talk Economics to Me, Baby

I love my fiance. Really, I do. But I simply do not understand why he becomes jealous so easily. A certain amount of jealousy is acceptable and even sweet. If another guy is talking to me in a bar, I think its cute if my fiance comes over to me and puts his arm around me.

But I am virtually unable to mention an ex in front of him if its in an even semi-positive way. I would not do this toward the beginning of a relationship, but we've been together for more than two years--so its getting a bit old. There are a number of ex's that played an important role in my past and with every one of them, there were at least some good times that I do not want forget. So, if I say something about how an ex and I took a trip to Hot Springs and went to a natural spa there, it does not mean that I am considering leaving him to go back to the ex. It just means that I want to share something about my past with the person I want to spend my future with.

And for God's sake, when I say something like "Oh, how I love Paul Krugman," rest assured that I have no impending plans to run off with him. The same goes for any other economist I express admiration for. Also, John Maynard Keynes is very dead and very gay--and I possess neither a propensity for necrophilia nor a penis.

Ask Loser Ex: Giving them something to talk about

Here at LoserEx, we consider ourselves experts on dating. And as such, we feel qualified to give out unsolicited advice. Unlike other advice columns, we're not very tactful. Actually, we're pretty bitchy. We plan to continue giving our advice to people who sound like they need it, whether they want it or not. If you actually want our advice on something, feel free to email us.

Today's question comes from the Washington Post live chat:

Nashville: I'm a happily married 35-year-old woman. A few weeks ago, I was having drinks at the home of a single female friend who is prone to "oversharing" about her personal life, particularly the rather large number of men she sleeps with.. After an extra margarita or two, she persuaded me to talk about my sex life with my husband -- which is very satisfying and fun, by the way. Much to my surprise, I found myself telling her that we engage in some "kinky" activities -- I spank him, he sometimes wears panties, etc. She was absolutely shocked, told me that my husband would never be a "real" man and that he was almost certainly gay. To my astonishment, she has told several mutual friends about my confession, and now I suspect people are laughing behind our backs. I have cut off all contact with her, but I'm still worried about the firestorm of gossip this has created. What should I do?


You say your husband wears panties like it's a normal thing. And then you are surprised at your friend's reaction. You were probably also surprised that you were teased in middle school for wearing glasses/braces/suede walking shorts over tights. As your mother undoubtedly explained to you then (unless you are me, in which case, Mom selected the aforementioned suede shorts outfit), kids tease you because it gets a reaction. To make it stop, just don't give them the gratification. They will get bored and find someone else to pick on.

Your mom was partially right: yes, the teasing will end much faster if you don't acknowledge it. So, in that regard, you should own the fact that your husband borrows your underwear.

Here's where your mom was mistaken: in middle school you were teased because you were different. While some kids thrived on not being "mainstream", you most likely teased your bangs, trailer park style and wore your jeans pegged to look like every other girl in your seventh-grade class. You prefer to fit in. And that's socially acceptable.

Unfortunately, you have entered into a life-long commitment with a man who does not like to do what's socially acceptable. I cannot imagine a situation where my husband would willingly (and happily) wear my underwear. I cannot imagine a situation where I would willingly (and happily) allow my husband to wear my underwear. My quick, unscientific poll of my female friends suggest that this behavior ranges from weird, to downright nasty. My quick, unscientific poll of my husband is that heterosexual men don't want to be the woman in the relationship. This includes dressing up as a woman for your sexual pleasure.


To update mom's advice: if you want your friends to stop laughing at you behind your back, stop telling people about your weird sexual behavior. I am of the mindset that it's not my business what you are doing in a consensual adult relationship with another human being. But if you make it my business, don't be offended when I judge you.

Beefcake

A couple of years ago, I wrote about a date I went on with Beefcake, who was involved in a relationship at the time. Well, guess who's getting married!

This November, Beefcake will walk down the aisle with a nice girl whom he has been dating since 2006. Notice a problem here? Their wedding page has the usual saccharine-sweet stories about the happy couple, details about the event and their registry. Nothing about it really stands out as being particularly interesting.

Except for one little thing -- the part that really breaks my heart is his future wife's happy description of their courtship:

We met June 5, 2006 in "beautiful" [redacted] for [redacted]. A wonderful friendship grew into much more over the next several months and in November during [redacted] weekend we made it official.

For those of you keeping track at home, my date with Beefcake took place in spring of 2007. Several months after they had made it official. The worst part is that his fiancee truly seems like a nice girl. And seems truly oblivious to what an ass Beefcake actually is.

I would never wish for anyone's relationship to fail, so instead I am going to hope that what happened with Beefcake was a one time deal and that he will be a wonderful husband.

Loser Current

You know those Halloween costumes that cheap, lazy parents bought their kids in the '80s? The ones that involved a plastic mask and a plastic apron with the name and a picture of the character on it?

I know you do. But, if you're going to play dumb with me, here is what I am talking about.

Donald Duck does not wear a picture of himself.

Anyway, I am certain that my boyfriend invented these costumes in a past life. Seriously. He insists on adding a name tag to every costume. He's tried to convince me to wear a name tag with my Halloween costume every year.

This year, I've started working on my costume early, and despite the fact that it is a clearly identifiable character, he has once again suggested a name tag. Now, if a name tag is appropriate for the costume, then it makes sense. But, there are only so many times when that is the case. If I were planning to dress up as a waitress or a game show contestant, then his suggestion to wear a name tag would be spot on.

Carmen Sandiego does not wear a name tag.

But, I am not putting together a waitress or game show contestant costume. I am putting together a Carmen Sandiego costume (which, by the way, is awesome).

Carmen is a thief, not a camp counselor. She doesn't wear a name tag. She does, however, wear a pretty distinct outfit that cannot be mistaken for much else. If someone doesn't get the red trench coat and fedora, then they wouldn't know who Carmen Sandiego is anyway, so the name tag would be useless. They either get this costume, or they don't. I think my boyfriend may fall into the latter category, as he also believes that Carmen wears lingerie under her coat and carries sex toys.

LoserEx Answers Your Questions

Here at LoserEx, we consider ourselves experts on dating. And as such, we feel qualified to give out unsolicited advice. Unlike other advice columns, we're not very tactful. Actually, we're pretty bitchy. We plan to continue giving our advice to people who sound like they need it, whether they want it or not. If you actually want our advice on something, feel free to email us.

Today's question comes from the Washington Post live chat:

Do nice girls finish last?: It seems to me through many years of observation that the bitchiest, most high-maintenance and demanding women are the ones getting all the men, and nice girls finish last. I don't need a "provider" and don't want children, am successful, own my own home, etc. That seems to be such a turn-off to men! Is it that the bitchy/demanding/insecure ones make them feel "needed"? And why are so many husbands putting up with being nagged incessantly instead of choosing an easygoing, undemanding partner? And how do women like that let the guys know that 'yes, we still do need them'?

As soon as I read this, two things popped in my head: 1) You don't sound very nice. 2) I bet you're fat and/or ugly. Since I am probably one of those girls who is bitchy, high maintenance and demanding, I decided to ask a guy for his thoughts on your question. He said the exact same two things. Just, not in that order.

I am not going to answer your questions because I feel that your premises are invalid -- nice girls are able to find men. All other things being equal, men do not prefer to be nagged incessantly. Instead, I am going to tell you why you are unable to land a man.

First, as I mentioned before, my first thought when reading your question is that you don't sound nice. Honestly, the overall tone of your letter is bitchy and bitter. No one wants to hang out with someone who whines about how all her demanding friends can snag a man but she can't. The fact that you're calling these women bitchy, high maintenance and demanding also does not make you seem nice. I have no reason to believe that you are a nice girl. Rather, I think that you have no real stand-out qualities, so you're assuming you're nice.

Why do you think you're nice? Have men described you as nice? That is usually a euphemism for fat. Also, based on your question, I am guessing that you think high maintenance is the opposite of nice. So, based on that, I am assuming that you consider yourself ultra-low maintenance. You probably are the type of woman who doesn't wear make-up or heels or dresses. You probably don't shave your legs or get your eyebrows waxed. This is not attractive to men. Yes, every man says he wants someone who is low maintenance, but what he really means is he wants someone who isn't wearing gobs of makeup. Gobs of makeup isn't pretty, but neither is broken out skin, under eye circles and eyebrows that have run amuk. Men want women who look pretty. Being pretty means being put together, which could be what you refer to as "high maintenance".

You conclude by implying that you are an easygoing, undemanding partner. To me, this means you sit on the couch like a lump. If this is all you have to offer, you're boring. You do not sound like you bring anything to the table other than a house. And unless it is a really sweet house, it's not going to land you a man. This also contradicts the overall tone of your letter. You bitch about being single, but then swear you're so easy to get along with. You sound desperate, and desperation is only a turn-on at last call.

And how do women like that let the guys know that 'yes, we still do need them?' Don't worry about letting men know you're needy. They already know; you're dripping in desperation.

I Should Have Known Five-Hundred, Twenty-Five Thousand, Six Hundred Minutes Ago that You'd be my Ex-Boyfriend

My high school boyfriend loved RENT. At the time, I'd never seen the play, the movie didn't exist yet, and I had very little idea of what it was about. I knew vague things like, it was about AIDS and homosexuality. Being the superliberal I am, I figured, well, all these people like it, its about counter-culture-ish topics, its probably good, right? Fast-forward a few years, boy, was I wrong!

I am a bleeding heart, tree-hugging liberal atheist, who also loves musicals. Granted, the musicals I like tend to be more of the "My Fair Lady," "Singin' in the Rain," Gene Kelly-esque persuasion. But I HATED RENT. Seriously, I'm expected feel sorry for a bunch of lazy, good-for-nothing "artiste" types who don't want to pay their damn rent? Really? Really? What makes them so special that they don't have to pay rent like the rest of the world? Oh, sorry, I forgot. It's because they are bohemian, misunderstood "artists." Please disregard the fact that they fail to produce anything resembling art. One guy pieces together home movies. Yeah, my fiance's sister did that for her family's Christmas presents last year. It was entertaining for those of us who knew the people, but I would scarcely call it art. Another manages to write one song and carries a guitar around all year, but the most you hear from it is a couple of chords. Oh, and the martyr of RENT kills a dog for money. Yep, these are very sympathetic people. Frankly, by the time the AIDS stuff became a major theme, I'd already grown to despise the characters so much I couldn't have cared less that they had AIDS or Ebola or Dengue fever.

Seriously, societal norms exist for a reason. They make the world function (relatively) smoothly and peacefully. I dislike movies/plays that try to convince people that following society's rules is "selling out" (God, I hate that phrase). Sure, I can support and applaud art that points out and condemns discrimination and other things that are truly harmful. But paying the fucking rent? Are you kidding me? Get a job, hippie.

A far more effective play/movie would have been about a group of 20-somethings, all gainfully employed or trying hard to become so, struggling to make ends meet, while still trying to embrace life and live what they have left to its fullest. I would have responded far better to a story about adults acting like adults than I did to RENT, a story about adults acting like children--but I don't wanna pay my rent.

So most of this has been a rant about why I hate RENT, but the point is, my ex loved RENT.Had I known then what god-awful tripe RENT is, I could have saved myself a lot of time. Knowing what I know now, I feel wholly justified in judging people who like RENT--and would certainly never date one again.