Hi Sars — so I find myself with the most ridiculous issue, and I’m
hoping you or your readers have been in the same place and will be
able to help me out.

The problem is that I tend to get warm while I sleep…I like to turn
the heat WAY down, use minimal covers, and sleep in the nude, and even
them I still frequently wake up hot and sweaty and kicking off the
blankets.That wasn’t a problem for the first 30 years of my life,
but then I managed to fall in love with and marry a guy who gets way
cold while sleeping.

We’ve done everything we can think of to accommodate the disparity —
he sleeps in PJs, I usually push the blanket off me and sleep just
with a sheet, there’s an extra blanket on his side of the bed, and I
shove the cat over to his side of the bed to provide extra warmth —
but in the morning, we often find that both of us were awake half the
night: me sweating, him shivering.Granted, if this is the biggest
problem we suffer in our marriage, we’re probably pretty lucky…but
we’re both dreading the prospect of missing out on solid sleep for the
rest of our lives (even without children)!Thoughts?

I’m the Heat Miser, He’s the Snow Miser

Dear Misers,

The solution depends on the size of your living space — and if you live in an actual house, it might be time to consider separate bedrooms with separate climates.Some people find the concept of separate sleeping quarters really depressing in this “denouement of an Updike short story” kind of way, but honestly…you’re sleeping.It’s not quality time, so much, and particularly if neither of you is getting the rest you need.

So, you might try that: fall asleep together in one of the rooms and then whoever’s in the “enemy climate” room can just move when s/he gets uncomfortable.

If you don’t have the luxury of remaking a room in your home into a second bedroom, try separate beds — two twin beds that you can push together or pull apart for R-rated fun times as needed, but that have separate sets of blankets (your husband might have an electric under a quilt; you could just have a sheet and a duvet cover) and maybe a fan on your side and your husband’s side closer to the radiator.You could also get a king-size mattress and do the same thing — it’s an investment, but a king-size is heeee-yuge, so you could snuggle each other to sleep in the middle and then do a fighters-to-their-corners thing when you get too hot.

There’s something to be said for spooning all night, but there’s also something to be said for not having to get up and change pajama tops twice in the wee hours because your fellow spooner is a night furnace, and waking up exhausted.Not every marriage is between two similarly-temperatured sleepers, and that’s okay.Consider separate sleeping spaces, even within the same bed, and see how you do.

Sars —

I’ve got a problem that I feel sort of silly about. I’ve been with my boyfriend for nearly five years (I’m 22, he’s 23). We dated long-distance while finishing our respective colleges, have lived and travelled together in the interrim, and are now settled into our first official apartment together. Things between us are great — we don’t bicker, we’re really goofy together, our communication skills are pretty top-notch, and we love each other tons.

The only thing is, the sex is not good. I’d even say it’s bad. We talk about this openly to each other, and seem to be in agreement, but at a loss for how to fix it. It’s not so much like we’re in a Dating For Five Years Rut — when we were dating long-distance, for years, the sex was sporadic during the school year but fun. And it’s not like our communication skills aren’t good, which is usually the problem I hear tossed around in situations like these. We try new things. We experiment. This is usually fun the first time or two, and then it’s dull again. We’re stumped.

The only thing we can point to is our schedule. We both work third-shift-type jobs, and don’t get off work until about 3 AM to wind down and have dinner and rent movies, and by the time we finally drag ourselves to bed a few hours later, we’re so tired that sex isn’t really a priority, so it becomes more of a chore than it ought to be. It’s getting a bit more infrequent because of our schedules now, on top of being bad (which doesn’t really bother us, since we’re so tired most of the time) but either way, it’s putting a kink (no pun intended) in an otherwise really wonderful, loving relationship, and we could use some advice.

I’ve even thought of maybe a sex counselor, or whatever resources like that are available to couples, but not only are we broke, it seems embarrassing for people in their very early twenties to have to seek advice on how to spice up their love life and jump kick their libidos. So. That leaves me here, and I’m hoping you can help. Neither one of us have ever considered ending the relationship over this, because there’s so much that we love about each other, but this is really starting to worry me in the long run. If we’re bored at 22, 40 looks pretty grim.

Sleeping together, but that’s about all

Dear Sleeping,

Okay, this is going to come out ookier than I mean it, but…my brother and I are really goofy together and love each other tons, too.See what I’m saying?

It’s hard for me to tell you what to do, because you describe the sex as both “dull” and “bad,” and in my world, those are two different problems — “routine and unexciting” is not the same thing as “bad.”I also don’t know how often you do have sex, or whether it’s that just the sex is dull or that you just kind of aren’t attracted to each other anymore.

In my experience, after enough time with one person, the sex does become somewhat routine.This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it’s sort of inevitable that, once you know a person well enough, the sex ceases to be revelatory every time; that’s just the way it goes.But if the other person still makes you hot, you just learn to live with it.

But the distinction between “I want to have sex with you, even if it’s somewhat rote” and “I want to have sex, period, and since you’re here already, I’ll make do” is important — subtle, but important.And if it’s the latter, it’s probably time to move on.But again, make the distinction: it’s strictly the sex that’s sort of flatlining, or it’s the attraction.The former, you take it for what it is or you don’t, but the latter…can’t really be fixed.

Sars,

I’m all conflicted here, and since you rock so hard maybe you can sort this one out for me. It’s about Jersey. And tomatoes.

See, when I think of food from New Jersey, I think tomatoes. But the tomato…it’s a fruit. It just is. So happy as I am to see Jersey giving the beefsteak all the
props it deserves, when I think about the tomato as the state vegetable, I can’t help but cringe a little.

Am I being too big a stickler here? Should I just be happy for the tomato? Or do I stick to my botanical guns? What would Sars do?

Love,
So Glad I Found TN Before This Important Issue Arose

Dear Here We Go Again,

Botanically speaking, the tomato is a fruit; it’s a berry, I believe.

Practically speaking, though, it’s a vegetable.Think about the ways in which we use fruit — in jams, in desserts, straight-up snacking, added to yogurt.The tomato doesn’t play that (well, the snacking, sometimes, but that’s me…a little salt and pepper and it’s better than chips).Ain’t gonna be no Tomato Brown Betty.It’s used as a vegetable.Furthermore, the Supreme Court declared it a vegetable over a hundred years ago.

Jersey already has a state fruit, so if the tomato wants to get in the encyclopedia as the state something-or-other, it’s going to have to go in as a vegetable, and I support that (and the sweet-corn lobby needs to just give that shit up right now).So, feel free to keep insisting that it’s botanically a fruit, but it’s also botanically related to nightshade, so…

Sars,

I have kind of a general question for you.I don’t drink alcohol, and I
never have, and I was just wondering if, in your common-sense-laden opinion,
that was bad.

I’m a recent college graduate, and I’ve never really had the desire to drink,
or any curiosity about the experience.However, I have many friends who, of
course, find it the most fun thing ever (most are a couple of years younger,
so that’s to be expected).I worry sometimes that I am a bit useless to them
because I don’t drink; if that’s the type of fun everyone really wants, looks
forward to, and enjoys, then everything in-between is just a break from it,
right?I mean, I don’t know anyone who gets drunk more than a couple of
nights a week, but still, any recreational time in-between, they have the
thought, “This isn’t as much fun as when I was drinking on Saturday,” or
whatever, right?Or, even if they aren’t actively thinking it, that thought
would be true.

My (very patient and generous) friends have told me I’m putting too much
weight on this subject, but it’s hard to ignore the evidence when they get
all giggly and excited remembering or looking forward to a drunken night.
I’m trying very hard not to sound judgmental (at least, regarding anyone but
myself), but I am worried everything I offer just falls away compared to that
much fun.So, my first question is, am I going to have to choose between
settling for being dull to my friends and forcing myself to drink?(Also,
I’m aware I must come off here as both a worryful bore and someone who needs
to loosen the hell up, and alcohol is the general prescription for both
conditions.)

Second, is it bad to never drink in general?Can anyone actually be an adult
without going through this stuff?I feel sometimes that my lack of interest
in drinking is just me stubbornly holding onto some childish impulse, or an
unhealthy rigidity.On the other hand, I hate the “Oh, just loosen up and
have FUN and once you start drinking you’ll realize how great it is!”
message, like I’m some damn Midwestern virgin from the Real World who’s never
kissed a boy.And, like I said, I honestly have no desire for it…but if I
SHOULD drink, that doesn’t matter.

I realize the common-sense response to this letter might be, “Oh, this guy’s
just looking for someone to tell him it’s okay to stand on his own two feet
and not to do what he doesn’t want to do,” but that’s not what I’m looking
for.If I’m a baby for not drinking, then I need to just shut the fuck up
and start drinking.I realize a lot of growing up is just forcing yourself
to do things you don’t want to do without complaining.

The length of this letter might imply this is a huge deal for me, but it’s not
killing my relationships, or anything; it’s just unsettling and distracting
sometimes.I have problems with social phobia, and I often get into
situations where I’m not sure if my worries are valid or not.If they are,
could you please kick me in the ass about them?And if they’re not, can you
think of any way I can convince myself I’m fine, here?

Thanks,
Mr. Teetotaler

Dear Tee,

I don’t think it’s a bad idea to try drinking and see what everyone’s on about — not drinking to get drunk, which is a separate animal, but just having a glass of wine.There’s a reason it’s a part of our culture after thousands of years, after all.

Of course, there’s also a reason that part of our culture has come under fire repeatedly, and it’s fine not to drink ever, whatever your reasons might be — I have plenty of friends who don’t drink at all, and it’s just really not relevant, to our friendship or to anything else.And I don’t think you get that — that nobody really cares whether you drink or not.Seriously.Nobody cares whether you drink, and nobody really cares that much about their own drinking, either.You seem to think that those of us who like a tipple are consumed by the thought of our next opportunity to drink, like that part of our lives is in color and the rest is in black and white, which…this isn’t an After School Special; we’re not all Sarah T.It’s just really not that big a deal.

Of course, I have a different perspective on it at 32, but it wasn’t all that huge a deal at 22, either; we did a lot of drinking, and we had a lot of fun doing a lot of drinking, but it was college.We had a lot of fun sitting around drinking Coke and playing cards too, or making up songs about Beowulf while studying, or just drinking coffee and driving around.Some people do enjoy booze because it lowers their inhibitions (and helps with anxiety, although you have to watch it, using it for that, because it’s a depressant), but mostly people like it because it’s something they do with their friends, and what makes it fun is the friends part — the buzz is sort of incidental.And I think, in college, there’s probably too much focus on booze as a way to bring people together and “make” social events, but most people put it in the proper perspective pretty quickly.The issue here, I think, is that you think you have perspective on drinking, but…you don’t.And generally speaking, I don’t think one has to have tried drinking to have perspective on it; in this specific case, I think you’re too focused on what your friends think and how huge a rite of passage it is.Again: Not that important in the grand scheme.

So, with that said, a Bloody Mary is a fine invention and I wouldn’t want to go to the grave never having tried one, but as a general rule, you don’t need to drink; it’s not a should/shouldn’t proposition.But it’s something that you should probably have some experience with before you make pronouncements about what we do and think, because…maybe your friends really are that obsessed with getting trashed, which is not a great sign, but for most adults, it’s just there and we can take it or leave it.I usually take it, but if I had to give it up tomorrow, I wouldn’t miss it that much.

Try it or don’t, either way is fine, but don’t make it into a referendum on you.It isn’t one.

Hi Sars —

Very random question.

With Brie cheese, do you, personally, just cut a sliver and put it on a cracker and eat it?Or do you gut out the middle, leaving a rind-cavern behind?Is it wrong to love the rind?

I noticed this behavior at a party, and nobody seemed to know what one was supposed to do, or if there was a legit reason to avoid the outside of the cheese.

Yeah, it was that kind of party.

Thanks!
Fetch Hither the Fromage de la Belle France

Dear Dare To Camembert,

I eat the rind.I can’t swear to this, but I think not eating the rind is one of those ’70s-vintage affectations that’s fallen out of fashion, food-wise.I can’t imagine that it matters, and I also can’t imagine shunning the rind when said rind has perfectly good cheese adhering to it.

But I also eat cheese and crackers for dinner, so I’m probably not the one to ask.Keckler would know, and I hope she reads this.Keck?

What the hell, why not take a survey.

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