Super Answer Lady Person and her Massive Sighs

Clearly some of my mail has been getting stuck in transit or eaten by dogs or opened “accidentally” by that dude who keeps rubbing himself with my trash. So I am going to answer some letters I KNOW have been written to me, I just haven’t received. Clearly people need my help and I’m not going to let a silly thing like not being asked for it stand in my way of going to their rescue. So here it is, another episode of Super Answer Lady Person – the Answers Only edition. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

Dear Married Dumbass Who Seriously Thinks We Wouldn’t Find Out You’re Screwing a Famous Girl Half Your Age,

*massive sigh*

Look. Twenty-two year old girls are as reliable as chipmunks and as steady as cotton balls. They get crushes. No big deal. We all get crushes. Since the moment I met my husband I’ve had two crushes. But the difference is… I knew they were crushes. I did not on any level believe that casual flirtation would or could lead to some undefined bliss that was clearly missing in my life. That’s the difference between me now, and me at twenty-two. And we’re talking about ME here. Super Answer Lady Person. I am a bastion of self-awareness. Yet at twenty-two I would have screwed a handsome forty-one year old father figure too. Possibly even believing I was in love. BUT I WOULD HAVE FIGURED IT OUT AND DUMPED HIS ASS SOONER OR LATER. It’s just what twenty-two year old girls do. Birds fly, fish swim, cute girls in their early twenties think their crushes are real.

You are the dipshit here. You’re the idiot who actually thought it MEANT something to get her attention and affection. Maybe it made you feel virile and valuable. Let me tell ya something. A twenty-two year old girl as a barometer of value makes as much sense as a seagull as a barometer of something’s palatability. Whatever she did that made you think she meant it, it was all in her head. It had nothing whatsoever to do with you. You idiot. Young girls will do anything, say anything, even BE anything to make you love them. Then, when you do and they don’t immediately feel fulfilled and joyous, they move on to the next shiny dude. Yes, there are a few exceptions, but the exceptional twenty-two year old girls don’t tend to be drawn to married dudes two decades older than they.

You really wanna feel like a man? Make your wife cum twice in ten minutes. THAT”S real value.

Dipshit.

Dear Important Rich Dude Who Hopes to Run a Large Corporation, er, Country:

*head in hands, massive sigh*

First lesson, just because someone speaks the same language does not mean all the words mean the same. I personally may not know that “backside” is a titter-inducing word in the UK, but I don’t intend to make international policy. Do some research. Listen. Don’t’ assume you know everything and that we all have the same life.

For instance, maybe two per cent of the population is interested in dressage. Maybe fourteen per cent know about it. I’d say only fifty per cent, and that’s being generous, know how to SAY dressage. So please don’t use your love of horses as a way to connect with my inner seven-year old girl who wants a pony.

Next, don’t assume we didn’t hear something you said just because you didn’t want us to. When I was in college, I did a scene and dropped a prop. I stared at it and then blindly went on with the scene. My instructor illustrated my imbecility afterwards by holding the prop high in the air and proclaiming, “This exists!” Then he dropped it on the floor. “Now, it DOESN’T exist!”

Unless you moonlight at the Magic Castle doing really good magic, you can’t make that work. So when your brain starts screaming to itself, “Abort! Abort! Stop talking! Danger!” instead of letting a glassy stare come into your eyes and your perfect teeth hit the light for the camera, hows about you stop and say, “Woah. That shouldn’t have come out like that.”

Because you know what would really be a change of pace and maybe get a vote or two? Admit your mistakes and apologize for them. That goes for the other guy too. ALL Important Rich Dudes Who Hope to Run a Large Country. Nothing deflates some kidney-piercing mockery like admission and a request for absolution. (ARE YOU LISTENING, MARRIED DUMBASS?)

Dear Lady Reading Fifty Shades of Grey With the Huge Diamond Wedding Ring:

*cold, dead stare, massive sigh*

Don’t. Just don’t. Don’t tell me all of the time you devote to sex is with that book. I’ve been amazed at the number of women who feel so “liberated” finally reading a piece of erotica while at the same time refusing to touch their men. You have fantasies he’s not realizing? You have needs he’s not meeting? You have desires he’s not fulfilling? FUCKING ASK HIM!

My husband is not on my side with this. He says there are always going to be men who are selfish, who won’t listen, and who see requests or attempts to communicate desires as a direct assault on their manhood. Okay fine. Maybe. But until I admit your own husband is one of them, I wanna know you’ve at least tried.

According to some of my friends, a lot of husbands are so desperate to get laid that they are willing to do anything. You want fruit? He’s stopping at the next freeway off-ramp to buy everything on the little Mexican guy’s truck. You want leather? He’s killing a cow with his bare hands. You want a maid’s outfit? On him? I’m pretty sure he’ll find one in his size. Just don’t make him wear the high-heels, because it’s hard to fuck with a recently sprained ankle. Distracting.

Any woman willing to read erotica in bed while she knows her husband has been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes NOT taking a pee is a woman who needs a talking to from the Super Answer Lady Person. If it REALLY ain’t working…. you deserve something or someone that is. Get it, girl. For real, not just in a book.

You DESERVE that! You deserve to have, with a real, live sexual organ that is not yours, the kind of sex that people only write about in your world. It can be done. I’ve seen it done. I mean, like, not just in porn. I like to think I do it. But it will only start if you put down the book and look at the huge hard-on under the sheets next to you that belongs to the guy pretending to be asleep. Or, failing that, you decide you can live without that particular hard-on and go find fulfillment elsewhere. Easier said than done? ABSOLUTELY. But I’m just saying…. if the ONLY reason you’re not having that kind of sex is because it hasn’t occurred to you to ask for it, the fault lies with you, m’dear. If there’s other reasons, well, I’m glad the book is so widely published then.