Normally, the thing to do about SQ, if the feelings were strong enough,
would be make the grand confession and see what he says. In my particular
case I already had a pretty good idea of that would be. At the time of my
great revelation, SQ had a girlfriend of over a year’s standing — let’s
call her “Evil” — whom he clearly cared very much for and who seemed to make
him happy despite the many reasons which have led me to give her that
pseudonym. (I’d give you some background on Evil, but this letter is already
going to be way too long, so you’ll have to trust me on the justice of the
nickname.) Rather than tank a five-year friendship in exchange for nothing,
I decided to be a grownup, suck it up and get over it.

So convinced was I that I was okay with our just-friends status that when
my financial circumstances and the New York City real estate market
conspired to make splitting an apartment with SQ and another friend an
attractive possibility bank-account-wise, I took it. I know, I know, blah
blah blah emotional-trauma-cakes. And I’m not saying there weren’t a few
pangs here and there, or that there weren’t a couple of occasions when I had
to dig my nails into my palms in order to stop myself from clawing Evil’s
eyes out, but for the most part things went all right. In fact, SQ and I make
excellent housemates. He cooks, I clean, we read the same sections of the
Sunday Times but in different orders, et cetera. The sunsets along de Nile
are beautiful most any time of year.

And then, out of the blue, Evil dumped SQ. SQ’s friends, myself included,
murmured prayers of gratitude to a just God, thankful that we didn’t have to
choose between picking out bridesmaid’s dresses and having an intervention.
SQ was crushed. We got him drunk, gently tried to point out to him the true
nature of Evil, and generally did all the good post-breakup stuff friends
are supposed to do.

With Evil now out of the picture, I was forced to admit to myself that I
hadn’t gotten over jackshit. But I treaded carefully; SQ was too important
to me, and my living situation too fucked up for me to risk being a rebound
fling. Months have passed. SQ has long since stopped moping and seen the
light about Evil. However, he does not seem to reciprocate my feelings in
any way, while my jones for him has gotten steadily worse. Reluctantly, I
have come to the conclusion that I need to get the fuck out, get him out
head, and move on.

So here’s the question — I’ve begun making plans to move. For a variety of
reasons, the location I’ve chosen is far, far away. Transatlantic far. Do I
tell him about my feelings before I go? And if I tell him, when do I tell
him? I should admit up front that I’m leaning strongly toward telling him.
It’ll sound sappy, but these feelings are not the usual crush-like,
I-wanna-jump-his-bones-type feelings; they’re more warm, fuzzy,
I-wanna-grow-old-with-you-type feelings. And essentially, if there’s the
smallest chance they could be reciprocated, I’m willing to risk the fallout
on our friendship. The non-love-addled portions of my brain tell me that
that chance is pretty small indeed, thus the relocation. I really don’t
think I could handle living with him once he knows, especially not for the
several weeks or months it’s going to take me to prepare for the move. But
it also seems unfair for me to drop such a bombshell in his lap in, say, the
airport parking lot, and not give him a chance to process the information
and come up with a response. While he is fond of me, I’m fairly certain that
he’s clueless about the depth of my affection for him, and I have very
little idea what his reaction might be. So. Thoughts?

Yours truly,
Trying to do the right thing is a giant pain in my ass

Dear Trying,

What do you want out of telling him? In the best-case-scenario, wildest-dreams version of what could happen in your mind as a result of your telling him…what happens, exactly? Because the movie doesn’t fade to credits after that; however he reacts, you’ve both got to live with it. If he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, then you get on the plane and leave him behind and hope the friendship survives down the line, but what if he does feel the same way? Then you…get on the plane and leave him behind anyway. Do you see what I mean here?

Then, a few weeks later, we’re at a party and I overhear her saying, “Yeah, I’m thinking about replacing my dining room chairs because they are so weak. I was sitting on one of them a few months ago and it just gave out on me.” Now, she broke her chair before she broke my chair, so I blurted out, “You mean you’ve done that before! You’ve done that before and you didn’t bother to warn us.” I know that was rude, but I was so outraged, I decided not to hold back. She just stared at me and didn’t say anything. We didn’t talk for a while after that, but now she’s hanging out with us again.

So, what do I do now when she sits in my chairs? We have a big chair (a chair and a half, really) that she chooses to sit in when she’s at the house, but when she’s in it and she’s shifting around, I can hear the supports creaking under her weight. If we have dinner at the house, it’s almost certain another chair will bite it. Last night she was sitting on my porch swing, and I heard a very ominous cracking noise, but fortunately my partner had screwed the swing into the studs so it didn’t give. Do I just say, “No, you can’t sit there”? I mean, I know I can, but there’s really no place for her to sit in my house that can take that much weight, and she loves to pop over for visits.

I think what pisses me off the most is that she’s been so large for so long that she is inconsiderate. When we go out to eat, we always have to order a table because she can’t fit in a booth. Okay, you know, I love to sit in a booth at a restaurant, but whatever, since I like to hang out with her and this is the best way to do it. But then she goes on about not wanting to hear from her mother about being 400 pounds since it’s hers to deal with and no one else’s. It’s not just hers to deal with when I have to accommodate her whenever we go out and when people have to reinforce their furniture when she visits.

If she knows she’s capable of breaking my chair, then why is she sitting in it? Am I just being insensitive or is she? Or is it both of us? Help.

A Weighty Situation

Dear Weighty,

Yes, it is a little insensitive to bitch about having to accommodate an obese friend. Plus-size folks have enough shit to put up with in this world, and she’s right that she’s the one who carries most of the burden of her obesity, if you’ll forgive the pun. As far as the restaurant thing goes, it’s really a pretty minor sacrifice on your part not to sit at a booth. On the other hand…I can’t honestly say I’d be above that kind of bitching if she’d broken a chair at my house.

So anyway, this tipped
me off that I seem to, you know, like like him now,
which is kind of strange, but kind of cool at the same
time ’cause he’s so awesome. So what is the problem,
you ask? Basically this — he’s in his first year of
law school down in Georgia, while I’m in my first year
of a Ph.D program in Boston. So it’s seriously
long-distance, and he’s committed to being down there
for the next three (well, two and a half) years, and I’m committed to
being up here for the next five or so years.

So here’s my
question: Would it be totally ridiculous for me to
pursue a relationship with him, given the distance? I
kind of think it would, but at the same time I’m all
“but I love him” or whatever, so I thought I would get
an unprejudiced opinion. I should add how great he is
— smart and funny and interesting and caring — we have
the best conversations, and he always notices when I’m
upset or down and cheers me up. But maybe it would be
better for me to just stay friends with him and forget
about it (and I know this is possible, ’cause, hey, I
did it three years ago, and that worked out okay without
any pining or whatever), at least for a couple of
years until it’s more feasible that we could
eventually be in the same, you know, region of the
country.

Thanks,
Separated by the Cruel, Cruel World of Academia

Dear Academic,

I don’t see any reason not to go for it…well, except for the obvious distance aspect, but if you tell yourself the hard truths now about how that might go, then what the hell. See what happens.

The second problem, which is affecting us a lot more, is money. When we
got together I was in the middle of a five-month period of unemployment, and
she had a full-time job. A couple of months later, I got a new job, and a
few months after that, we moved in together. (Yeah, I know that seems
fast, but we knew each other for a year before that, and we had to fulfill
at least ONE lesbian cliché.) Her job was seriously interfering with her
art (she’s a painter), and her boss was a complete prick, so she quit, and
I agreed to cover the household expenses until she could find a new job.
Unfortunately, it’s been about seven and a half months, and not only is she still
unemployed, she hasn’t even looked for a new job.

It’s not that she doesn’t contribute — she does odd jobs for other artists
that bring in enough to cover small expenses, like groceries and her
credit card payments. She also takes care of the house — cooking,
cleaning, laundry, et cetera. However, I have been paying for all of the
household expenses, and some of her personal bills like her car payment,
for over seven months, and I don’t know how much longer this is going to go
on. I’m concerned because I haven’t been able to put aside any money at
all, and I like to have a savings cushion just in case — it’s the only
thing that got me through my aforementioned period of unemployment. I
don’t want to pressure her, but I do need her to contribute more
financially to the household.

We’ve had many conversations about both of these issues. She gets upset
when money is discussed, and she says that’s because she feels like a
failure because she doesn’t make any money. I don’t want her to ignore or
abandon her art career, because she’s incredibly talented, but unless she
starts getting major gallery shows, like, right now, I think she’ll need
to have at least a part-time job. I’m not sure if I should gently nudge
her (which hasn’t worked very well so far) or flat-out demand that she
start pounding the pavement looking for work.

What do you think, O Wise Sars?

Best regards,
Would You Like Some Fries With That Painting?

Dear Fries,

Decide for yourself how important it is to you that she find a more reliable source of income — how much she needs to bring in, in what time frame you would like that to happen. It’s not about giving her an ultimatum, or even telling her about what conclusions you’ve drawn; it’s about telling yourself the truth about how important it is to you that she contribute to the household financially, because you need to admit that to yourself before you can discuss it with her and reach a solution you both can live with.

The foundation: There are very few things I take
seriously, and correct spelling is one of them. I
proofread things constantly, I was the spelling bee
champion quite a few times, and my former boss’s
nickname for me was “The Human Dictionary.”

The argument: “J” thinks that learning to write the
English language is too hard, since we have different
rules for everything and the rules don’t apply in
every situation. He has an idea that we should spell
the language phonetically, and avoid the hassle of
having to to look things up or remember the rules.
This would make learning to write English easier for
everyone.

My opinion is that this is the stupidest thing I have
ever heard (which I said, which started the voice
raising). As a nation, our children are already so
far behind educationally that letting them slide on
one more issue is repugnant to me. We give them
standardized tests, they piss and moan because the
tests are too hard, and we make the tests easier.
They take calculators to math class and use them
during tests. We’re raising lazy, fat kids with great
Playstation abilities, and not much else. I wonder
where it stops? Eventually, intelligence ceases to
matter and the Chipsters rule the world (SHUDDER).

Now, I know that changing our language won’t happen,
but I would like your opinion anyway…am I just being
stupid?

Sign me,
Resistant, R-E-S-I-S-T-A-N-T, Resistant

Dear Res,

A lot of the people who put forward the “it’s just grammar, who cares” argument do so because they equate proper usage with intellectual — and social — snobbery, and if you cited America’s overweight kids as the reason to hold the line on correct English, you just proved your boyfriend’s point for him. One has nothing to do with the other.