The Vine: May 6, 2004
Dear Sars,
I have been reading TN for a while now, and although I’m pretty new to The Vine, what I have read so far seems like great advice so I thought I’d ask you what you think of a small problem of my own.
I’m 20 years old, and for four months now I’ve been seeing a 43-year-old man. I’ve never had a proper boyfriend before, only casual sex partners. This relationship with Older Man began as casual sex — and I was pretty happy to keep it that way, as what great sex it was. However, after a couple of weeks Older Man started insisting that I care for him, and “miss” him, the way he cares for and misses, me. He started calling me his “partner” to other people. He also added that because of his marriage breakup four years ago and his 16-year-old son, he is not ready for a full-on long-term relationship.
I was all yes, fine, whatever (can we have sex now?). But after a while I realised I did care for the man: he is happy, good-hearted and well-adjusted. I on the other hand am a depressive with anxiety who can’t seem to hold down a job and is barely getting a passing grade at university.
I will be the first to say “father figure” (and certainly not the last) because he does make me feel safe, and he does have qualities that I would love to have in myself. I would like to hold on to him for a while longer because I don’t want a proper relationship at this stage in my life, and he is the one partner I’ve had that doesn’t make me feel bad about myself. I don’t like saying “slut” but I damn well need to be fucking someone.
However, over the past month or so, Older Man has really started to get on my nerves. Every time we see each other (which is not a lot, about twice a week), he manages to work into the conversation something about me finding a guy my own age. I find this hurtful, as it suggests to me that he is bored and wants to move on. Only he insists that he is here for me as long as I want him, and so much so that he would still want to see me if I did get another boyfriend.
I’ve tried telling Older Man outright that I have no desire for a let’s-plan-our-future relationship with him, I’ve told him that I don’t wish to discuss the subject, and threatened to walk out on him when he brings it up, yet he continues to do so.
So what do you think? Why does he keep doing this? Is it to get rid of me? Do I leave him now and put us both out of our misery? Or is there some way of staying close without him becoming paranoid and thinking that I want some kind of commitment from him?
Cheers,
The Younger Woman
Dear Younger,
Break it off.You say you don’t want a proper relationship at this point in your life, so…don’t have one.
I think you only continue the relationship with Older Man so that you can say you have a relationship with someone — that someone finds you desirable and date-able — and I think you really don’t know what you want, or you suspect that you can’t get it in the second place, so you settle for a guy who holds you at arm’s length and then in the next breath he’s getting all bossy and territorial, and you can do better than that.
I mean, I’ve done it too.I don’t judge you.But eventually you have to look at the situation and ask yourself whether you want to spend time with a guy who starts many, many sentences with some variation on “when you get a little older, you’ll see that” blah blah blah I’m-maladjusted-cakes…or whether you want to get crossed up, at your age, with a guy who already has a family.
I’m sure he’s a decent person, but he’s not a good fit for you, and hanging on to him because you don’t think anyone else is going to fit better is not going to work.Tell him to shut up about the guy your own age or you’ll walk; he won’t, because that’s what these guys do, so, walk.Be by yourself for a while.Figure out why your dating philosophy is “any port in a storm,” and change it, because it’s going to keep landing you with guys who aren’t good matches.
Sars,
A relative of mine, “Mary,” had gastric bypass surgery. She’s since lost a significant amount of weight, and is on her way to Carnie Wilson-ish before and after pictures. We’ve always been close, and one of the things adding to our bond was our shared weight issues. Ahh, foreshadowing.
Mary was always much heavier than me — I’m thick and need to lose weight, but I’m not freakish or drawing stares at the mall. I eat fairly well and exercise, and have previously lost 30 lbs. on my own. Now Mary is wearing a smaller size than me. I want to be happy for her, I really do. But…Mary is the type to gloat. Example: “I got this shirt for Christmas, and its waaaayy too big for me. Do you want it?” In addition to these occasional, but incredibly annoying, little jabs, Mary finds a way to work her current size/weight lost into every conversation we have. I find myself avoiding talking to her just to prevent blowing up in her face.
I feel like her having the surgery was the best choice for her. But I also feel like the surgery is cheating, and when she brings up her size it makes me want to scream. “Wow, congrats, I could have lost mad weight too if I was rocking that medically enforced anorexia that you’ve got going on.” I heard a comic say that the weight loss surgery is equivalent to a crack addict glueing his nostrils shut. I never laughed so hard, or so bitterly, before. That really bothered me, and made me feel like an enormously snarky bitch.
And that’s the problem. I don’t want to be that person who’s so jealous they can’t be happy for someone else’s good fortune. I want to reconcile the side of me that wants to be happy for her, and the side that wants to turn her into the teacher for cheating (sorry, that was so corny it cracked me up). I’ve talked to people who know us both about the issue, but I really need some outside opinion. Am I some crazy, jealous biotch, or I am valid in feeling this way? And if I am just a bitch, is there anything I can do to fix the situation?
Signed,
Pissed off and hungry since my stomach is still normal size
Dear Here, Have A Famous Amos Oatmeal Macaroon Sandwich Cookie,
(I cannot stop eating those cookies.I LOVE THEM.Help me.)
Anyway.You’ve got two separate strands of irritation here; one is that she’s preoccupied with her weight, to a tactless and annoying degree, and the other is that you envy that weight loss.In order to deal with the first one in a gracious manner, you have to untangle it from the second one, and I know how difficult it is to do, but you can’t compare other people’s gifts or successes to your own and make them about you — because they aren’t really about you.When Mary’s all, “Here, take these clothes THAT ARE FOR FAT PEOPLE,” she’s not actually saying that.She’s just asking if you want her old clothes.
But she’s doing it insensitively, sort of, and I don’t think it could hurt to point out, as neutrally as possible (and without mentioning that you think the surgery is “cheating,” obviously), that it makes you self-conscious when she offers you clothes that are “way too big” for her.Ask her how that would have made her feel, pre-surgery, if you’d done that to her; tell her you appreciate the thought, but you’re still struggling with your weight, and if she wouldn’t mind…thanks.
Maybe saying something about that one aspect of her behavior will prompt her to realize that she’s a little self-obsessed about the whole surgery thing and she ought to talk about something else now and then.But it might not, and in that case you’ll just have to grit your teeth and change the subject when it comes up, and wait for her to get over herself.I understand your aggravation, truly, but she’s got a whole new body now and she’s going to be focused on that for a while.Spend a little less time with her if you can get away with it until she chills out.
Sars,
I think my boyfriend wants me dead. No, really. See, I’m allergic to garlic. Seriously allergic. We’re talking instant death like those kids with peanut allergies who swell up and choke at the mere mention of a Payday.
Not only is my allergy inconvenient (everything has garlic in it! I’m not sure how that’s possible or when marzipan, Pepsi Cola, and Snickers bars started containing garlic, although I have some conspiracy theories involving Chef Boyardee and God, but I digress), it’s annoying as all hell. Every time we go out with friends and I have to mention my allergy, I get one of two responses. Idiots will ask, “Oh cool, what happens?” Well, asshole, I die -– but come on, how cool is that? Or my favorite: “But garlic is good.” Damn, I wish I had known that before I decided to let it kill me. I’m really cursing myself for that little error in judgment already.
So I am allergic. Go ahead and ask if I’m a vampire, that one’s a classic. Go on, I’ll nod indulgently while I dream of drinking your blood just for peace of mind. Or if we go to a sporting event, grin your shit-eater grin when you ask, “I know who wants garlic fries” as you nudge me in the ribs and laugh heartily at your own wit. We have season tickets, but go ahead and make that “joke” every time. I swear, it’s funny and it gets better every single fucking time you use it. In fact, there are endless ways you can annoy me about my little affliction. My boyfriend knows them all and usually tries to help me avoid them. And yet…
And yet he still insists on suggesting things with garlic in them for every meal! “How about Italian.” Uh, no. “Pizza?” No. “Garlic bread?” Garlic is in the name, dipshit, so, no! I’m not saying I forbid him from having these items; I’ll even breathe shallowly through clenched teeth with the hypodermic of benadryl aimed at my heart if he really needs to brave an Italian eatery in my presence. After two years, though, stop suggesting it!
Furthermore, he bitches that after eating anything with garlic I prohibit kissing until he’s brushed. “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?” Well, I could have to smell your rank breath. Or, you know, DEATH! Hello! Besides, brushing after garlic should be a given with anyone, not just me. Garlic has its own little reputation it celebrates with a bronze plaque from the mayor that hangs above the mantle and proudly proclaims “Over 1 Million Dates Ruined.” Get a clue.
So my question is this: Is he trying to kill me? Maybe he’s figured out that passive-aggressive break-ups are still messy and has opted for homicide? We have a really comfy couch and he’d get it if I perished under the “clearly accidental” effects of anaphylactic shock. He seems so tolerant otherwise; he’s accepted that my dogs will always ignore his existence, even going so far as to stare directly through him when he’s down on the floor in their faces or walking over him when he’s in the way. My suddenly coming home with hot pink hair one month after moving in together didn’t even register a blip on the radar. I never have to pick up dirty socks or wet towels of his off the floor. But dude, what’s up with the garlic?
Potential Bloated Corpse
Dear Corpse,
If he’s that insensitive to a life-threatening condition of yours, why haven’t you taken the couch and moved out your own damn self?We aren’t talking about leaving socks on the floor here.The shit could land you in the hospital, or worse.Why haven’t you laid down the law?”You must brush your teeth after eating garlic.Not negotiable.It’s a matter of life and death, as you know, so do it without complaining about it or I’m leaving.”
Well, you haven’t done it because you love complaining, about how Nobody Gets It and all the dumb comments, and making a big dramatic passive-aggressive show of sitting next to him while he eats a puttanesca with your epi-pen poised over your heart.Give me a break, honey.Presumably you’ve had this allergy for a while; stop letting the questions bug you, and stop playing the martyr.”But –“No.Why else would you sit, rigidly miserable, while he shovels garlic bread into his piehole, when the shit could kill you — unless you wanted credit for it?If he wants Italian, leave him to it and go get yourself a salad.
It’s an inconvenient condition, but it’s yours, and it’s time for you to find a more grown-up way of dealing with it.Tell your boyfriend the policy on garlic, and make it clear that he can obey it or lose you.Rehearse stock answers for everyone else’s stupid questions.And stop taking it so personally.
Sars,
Your brilliance and wit are known around the world.
Well, at least here in the continental United States.
Or at least in my little apartment. So, here is my
multipart question, that I ask more because you’re a
smart, urban, single woman, than because you’re a
goddess of advice, although you most certainly are the
queen of all that is advice, as well as all that is
correct English usage.
(1) What will women, on
average, shouldn’t generalize, think about a forty-year-old man who hasn’t dated in six years and hasn’t
engaged in that “other” activity that dating can
result in during that time period; (2) what will
women, on average, think about a forty-year-old man
who during the fourteen-year period prior to this six-year period engaged in dating and that “other”
activity very rarely (like, say, less than your
average sixteen-year-old boy), and as a result is not
all that skilled and never learned how to make things…er…go on for awhile, shall we say, although
he’s willing to do anything to learn; and (3) should I
mention that that same forty-year-old man is a
recovering alcoholic and drug (pills) addict?
Part
three is actually the question that scares me the
most. I see myself sharing that fact on the fifth or
sixth date and having her run screaming from the
wherever we are, furious that I misrepresented myself
as a nice guy when in fact I am a loathsome drunk and
junkie (I don’t think I’m loathsome anymore, however).
I guess I should say that I have quite a few
positives. Through the work I’ve done in AA over the
past few years, I’ve learned how not to get angry and
resentful; I’ve learned to be tolerant and not
judgmental; I’ve learned to keep my ego and self-importance in check; I’ve learned how to shut up and
listen; I’ve learned not to be so afraid of people;
I’ve learned to care about other people and help them;
I’ve learned to accept responsibility for my actions;
and I’ve learned to have some kind of God in my life,
although for me it’s a very nontraditional and
non-supernatural God. I’m also a successful lawyer;
very well read; like cool music; like dogs and
children and even cats; respect women; cook; and have
all sorts of other good qualities.
Nonetheless,
because of the three items listed above, I can’t get
over the belief that all is doomed. Oh, if you tell me
to go into therapy, I am, and we do work on these
issues. But I need to know what a woman of the more or
less type that I could potentially want to go out with
thinks. Hmmm…I just read this over and I have to
wonder if I’ve been restored to sanity yet as as the
second step sets forth, because I do sound pretty
pathetic. Yeah. And sorry this wasn’t funnier. Lawyer,
remember. Not so much with the funny.
Best regards,
Middle-Aged and Sober and Four Steps to the Left of
Virgin
Dear MAASAFSTTLOV,
I think a few things.I think that, if you lead with that information, you aren’t going to get far; I think the fact that you led with it in your letter is telling, that you front-loaded it with “I suck in bed and I used to have a substance abuse problem” and then you mention that you’ve got a good job and you like kids and pets and whatnot.
I also think that people worth knowing, or dating, regardless of gender, find a way to work with the material even when it’s not ideal.Is “recovering junkie” on my list of ideal traits in a mate?No.But if I meet a guy who’s funny and cute and hates raisins and Rod Stewart as much as I do, and on our third date he tells me he’s a twelve-step grad?Well, okay — but he’s a grad, now, is the point, and a man who’s going to throw the evil-eye sign at a box of Sunmaids is not easy to find.Most people can put that kind of thing in perspective; forty years old, you’ve lived, you’ve got a past, and most people will get that and not hold it against you.
But then there’s the sex thing, where you say you haven’t really done that much living, but let me tell you something.Actually, let me tell you two things.1. Not every woman wants it to go on for two hours.Lord knows I don’t.I’d rather do it three or four times in that span with a few snack breaks in there.2. A man’s ability in bed has doodlysquat to do with how often he’s done it before.Truuuuust me.Every woman is different and is going to want different things.If you get that, you’re going to be fine.If you don’t, you’re going to be bad in bed, I don’t care if you slept with an entire congressional ward.
You have to give yourself some credit that you have something to offer — and you have to give us some credit that we’re going to see that.Everyone has shit going on they don’t want to admit to, that they think is going to scare people off — everyone, no matter how together they seem, except for boring people, and you don’t want to date someone boring anyway.
It’s going to be fine.You can cope; so can we ladies.Bring these things up when it feels natural, and have faith.
Hi Sars!
Please, please, please explain to me what it means to “split the infinitive” in a sentence.I, it would seem, do this on a semi-regular basis and because the person who told me this is a real smart-ass know-it-all, I refuse to confess to her that I have no idea what she is talking about.
Please help, this is harder than the off-side rule in soccer.
Yours in desperation,
Dumbfounded Down Under
Dear Down,
An infinitive looks like this: “to split,” “to run,” “to read.”Splitting the infinitive means inserting another word or a modifier between the two words in the verb form, e.g., “to always split the infinitive” or “to quickly run.”
Grammarians used to consider splitting an infinitive a crime against usage, but splitting it is perfectly acceptable in cases where the sentence is going to sound even more awkward if you try to avoid it (“always to split the infinitive” is a bit twee).So you might tell the smart-ass know-it-all that getting all smug about split infinitives is kind of dated.
Tags: boys (and girls) etiquette grammar sex the fam
