Dear Sars,

I’ve been dealing with this issue for a year or so, and it’s almost at the
boiling point.A friend of mine, we’ll call her “Single White Female,” is
fast on the track to becoming me.It’s been a slow process, but it’s
starting to skeeve me out.

A little history, which I will try to make
brief: A couple of years ago, I moved into my own place after roommating for
years.I decorated it according to the laws of me: living room filled with
artifacty stuff I have collected over the years, it’s a really colorful room
— reds, blues, greens, the whole rainbow.I have masks from different
countries, cool prints on the walls, and weird shit everywhere.I am
pleased with it.My bedroom is light purples and blues, very soft and cool
like a Monet.My bathroom is a sun, moon, and star motif, which is totally
played out, but I like it so I’m happy.

SWF moved out of her parents’ house
about six months later.She decorated her house almost EXACTLY like mine
(quite a few people that are mutual friends of ours have made comments about
it, and she always denies that our places are even similar).Same color
scheme in the living room, but she had to go out to Pier One to get some
artifacty stuff because she didn’t have a collection of junk like I did.
Her bedroom is light purples and blues, and surprise, surprise, her bathroom
is suns, moons, and stars.I was a little pissed, but I said nothing and
changed my bathroom to a Parisian motif.”Copy that!” I thought to myself.

Then, she started dressing like me.Lots of black, navy and dark purple.
Before, she wore mostly khakis and browns.I dyed my hair red and then so
did she.I cut my really long hair off to my shoulders, and she followed
suit.She says the things I say, she goes where I go, and she has even
picked up some of my mannerisms.

At first I was flattered; she’s younger
than I am and I’ll admit, I felt like she was looking up to me and it was
fun.It is no longer cool.I am finding myself making excuses not to hang
out with her, and I don’t spend a lot of time on the phone with her anymore
either.I want to say something, but I’m pretty sure it’ll come out really
mean and hurtful since I can be a little, shall we say, aggressive.I don’t
want to hurt her feelings, but I want her to stop being me.Any advice?

Bothered

Dear Bothered,

I had a friend do that back in the day, and it weirded me out a little that she bobbed her hair like mine and started wearing a lot of black…but a lot of people bob their hair and wear black, and besides, I’d pretty much modelled myself on Ernie with my whole green-jeans-and-Docs look in the first place.

I don’t think it’s the imitation itself that bugs you; you should take that as a compliment, anyway, because you have an innate flair, and those of us who don’t (like me) have to copy off you guys all the time.Right now, for example, I’ve got on a top just like one AB Chao has, and sneakers I thought looked cute on Toque and got for myself.But I acknowledge my copying by announcing to the copyee, “Your shit is cool and I’m-a copy you,” and I think that’s what actually annoys you — that SWF is not really admitting it’s your thing she’s doing and not her own.

You could try to bring that to her attention by making a joke out of it — like, going over to her place, eyeing the decor, and making a “hey, twins!” crack.But if you think she’d get defensive about it, just bite your tongue and leave it alone.In time, she’ll get her own thing — my friend eventually went with a more post-hippie look, problem solved — so keep doing your own thing and don’t worry too much about whether she follows suit.

Sars,

I have a fairly gross cat problem.Please bear with me.

I have a seven-year-old female cat, spayed.She’s lived
indoors all her life, and is actually terrified to go outside.
She’s never been mistreated, but she’s always been very
aggressive, and does your general Bad Kitty stuff (tearing the
furniture, et cetera).We’ve accepted that this is just the way
she is, but now she’s taken it one step further.

She’s stopped covering her shit.

She still does her business in the litter box, and she’ll
sometimes scratch around a bit (generally on the plastic walls
of the box, which as you can imagine is rather ineffective), but
in the end we still find her poo just sitting there on the
surface of the sand, stinking up the place.I know we have a
“difficult” cat, but it seems a little much to be expected to
cover up her doo-doo for her.

Have you heard of this problem before, or is our cat just the
laziest beast of all time?Any ideas on how we can get her
to do this one thing?She always managed it when she was little.

Signed,
Ew, what’s that sm– oh, crap

Dear Ew,

(…hee.)

Joe is good about hiding the evidence, but I swear to God, Hobey purposely makes a hill of litter first and then deposits his poo on top of it.And then he spends fifteen minutes clawing and scratching everything around the poo while it sits on its promontory, cartoon stink waves undulating out of the bathroom.So…yes, I have heard of this problem before.Sigh.

Why your cat just started doing it, I don’t know.Hobey’s always been a poo show-off, and I’ve just resigned myself to holding my breath and covering The Tomb of the Well-Known Soldier myself, but maybe your cat doesn’t like the type of litter you use, or maybe you fill it too deep or not deep enough…hard to say.Futz around with it for a few weeks, using more or less sand, switching to clay for a while, and see if she goes back to covering it up.

Dear Sars,

Never thought I’d have something I couldn’t deal
with myself, but here it is. I tried to keep it short, but I’m way
too verbose, and I’m sorry.

I have upstairs neighbours. Also, downstairs and next-door, but those
aren’t the problem. The problem is the amount and level of noise from
upstairs. The UpstairsNeighbours sound like they have pet elephants,
in the plural, running around up there. Real, plundering, stampeding
elephants. If I had moved in after they had, I’d have thought it was
the house — bad sound insulation and whatnot, because I’ve lived
below people in other buildings and never had a problem; but no,
there were three people living together upstairs before the current
people, and I never heard more than a random peep, or the odd
dropping something by accident. I’ve become so annoyed by their noise
that I’ve even taken to admonishing my guests if they make too much
noise, in case it does to my downstairs neighbours (they’re quite
elderly) what is being done to me.

I do have a low tolerance for noise, but UpstairsNeighbours seem to
be going well beyond normal levels — many visitors have thrown a
“what the hell?” look at my ceiling. I can hear numerous thumps,
stomps, bumps, and various noises which I’ve interpreted to be
dropping/throwing things, running all over the apartment, yelling at
each other, jumping up and down, and/or playing basketball, and/or
throwing a stepdance party. The other night, I kept hearing the
“bloop” from an online message service. I can even hear their phone
ring. Dude, I can’t hear my OWN phone ring if it’s not in the room
with me. When my stranded-by-a-fire friend was my roommate, she
attested to the noise levels in the day — it was the worst when she
was working backshift and trying to sleep all day, while I was at
work. Granted, they didn’t know she was there, but still, the noise
is just…a bit much.

All of these things, while annoying and excessive, are mostly
bearable, although I do spend too much of my time trying to figure
out what, exactly, could possibly be making that much noise. What’s
more, by 11 PM (quiet time for the building), they stop.

What is really making me nuts is the way these people enter and exit
their home. There is an iron staircase running up the outside of the
(old, renovated) building, which goes past my bathroom and spare room,
and ends at their door on the third floor, directly above my bedroom;
it’s the only entrance to their apartment. Every morning,
approximately an hour before my alarm goes off, someone leaves the
apartment above, slams the door hard enough to shake the house (bed
and mirror shake, things have fallen off walls), and runs down
the stairs. The same deal whenever anyone goes in or out — running up
and down the stairs, which resonates throughout the whole building
(or at least, my apartment), and the awful slamming of the door.
Can’t they turn the handle and click it shut? Obviously not.

The worst is in the mornings, when I’m right below the SLAM!, thrown
from dreamland to early morning hell. Understand, I’m an insomniac,
of the sleep-onset variety, which means it takes me an hour at the
least to get to sleep (last night, it took about six). So every morning
I am losing an hour’s sleep, because when I wake, that’s it, I’m
awake.

More background: I sort of know these people. It is a woman 10-15
years older than myself, her 18-year-old son, and possibly a
21-year-old daughter (I don’t know if the daughter lives there or
not, but I know she exists). I’ve been introduced to this woman two
or three times by mutual friends, so she is an acquaintance; when she
was moving in, we crossed paths outside, and she said I’d have to come
up for wine some night (I never have).

Once, shortly after moving in, her phone and internet went out and
she knocked on my door to use mine (cell phone, cable net). While she
was there she did ask if they were making too much noise. At the
time, it wasn’t much, probably because they hadn’t been there long,
and I said something polite about how I hear some moving around but
it’s not too bad, except for late one Saturday night where we thought
the roof was coming down on top of us — she said she had been having
friends over and they were dancing in the kitchen. I told her it was
okay, it was Saturday night, that’s what people do.

She also said that I might hear some arguing between her and her son,
and I should just ignore it (she was right, and I do, and it’s more
like screaming matches and I can’t imagine living like that, but
whatever). I’m pretty sure most of the noise can be attributed to the
son — she just doesn’t seem as energetic as the level of noise seems
to indicate — but I can’t prove it. He also has parties when she’s
away (she asked me to let her know if he does, but I haven’t seen her
since they moved in), but only on weekends, so again, no problem
there.

As a last piece of information, I have access to her email address
because I know where she works — a place I’ve done some freelancing —
and her addy is published every week.

That’s the situation. Finally, the question. I want to email this
woman and ask her and her son (and daughter?) to please keep it down to a
dull roar, because I’m starting to lose my mind, most notably due to
the loss of sleep. I feel it’s within my rights to ask her to keep it
down, especially since she broached the subject with me once before.
However, I don’t want to antagonize her, or be snarky or bitchy in
the least; neither do I want to imply “…or I’m going to the
landlord,” because that is not my intention — and even if it was, I
probably have no grounds to complain, because it really does stop
before “quiet time.” I don’t want to snitch, and I don’t want them to
feel they have to tiptoe; I just want them to think about and be
considerate towards the people living below them (they have the whole
top floor; the second floor is me and another apartment) before
stomping around in their hobnailed boots; most especially, I want
them to stop slamming the freaking door.

Can you give me a few short sentences that could accomplish this
pleasantly and without fuss?I really can’t see me climbing those
stairs for anything less than the apocalypse (I tried it once;
panicked, had to turn around and go back, with help). I’m sure if I
just brought it to her attention, the noise would decrease to
tolerable, but I can’t find a diplomatic way to approach it.

Help? Thanks.

Earplugs are not an option

Dear Plug,

Oh, please.An email is not the preferred “diplomatic” way to handle the situation.If one of my neighbors emailed me that I should turn down the Ramones instead of just coming over to ask me…I mean, whatever.What, she’s going to hold you down while her son beats you up?Come on.

Sack up, go upstairs, and invite her down to your place for coffee.Then mention that the noise level has become bothersome, and ask if she and the other folks upstairs would mind closing the door instead of slamming it, putting down a few rugs, turning their ringer down — whatever.

You have a friendly relationship with the woman so far.In fact, you might reasonably say that she owes you a favor after you let her use the phone and whatnot.You shouldn’t have any problem asking, in a non-confrontational way, for her and her son (or whoever else) if they could be more mindful of the noise during non-quiet hours.Walk up the stairs and do it.

Sars:

I’ve read questions similar to this one in The Vine before, but not with my specific circumstances, which I think might make a difference in your answer.By the way, nine times out of ten I think your advice is right on target, so I really respect your opinion.This is long, so feel free to edit it for length.

It’s a problem between my husband and me.We’ve had a slightly checkered past, and I actually left him once because of his anger issues.He got therapy, we did couples therapy, and that is no longer an issue.All it takes these days is a gentle reminder to get him to dial back on the anger.

On my own, I have had depression issues since I was fourteen (twenty-three now).I have been on and off of medication and in and out of therapy.I don’t think that really has anything to do with this, but I wanted to mention it, just in case.

I love my husband.Ninety-nine percent of the time he is wonderful, solicitous, and kind.I don’t begrudge him the one percent, because who’s perfect all the time?He takes good care of me, makes good money, and is generally willing to humor my whims.We love the same movies, share television tastes (or are willing to learn to like something), and understand the need for separate hobbies.Although we have some big differences (I’m an atheist Democrat and he’s a Christian Republican), we’ve managed to find good workarounds and build a nice life.

With all of that, you’d think we’d have no problems.But the big problem is really my fault.I have no sex drive anymore.For the first two years we were together, we had sex pretty much every day.Then three times a week.It dwindled down to pretty much nothing.Naturally, this drives my husband a little nuts.He has, after all, normal needs and desires.But the really weird thing is that it doesn’t bother me at all.I think I could live happily without sex, except that it makes him so unhappy.

He doesn’t pressure me to perform, and I’ve had a break for the last few weeks because he’s recently had surgery.But I feel like I’m letting him down and being a bad wife. Even though I know he wouldn’t, part of me thinks that I couldn’t blame him if he went elsewhere to get satisfaction.

What do I do?I don’t want to have sex when I’m not in the mood, but nothing I’ve tried to induce the mood has worked.I’ve cut back and changed my medications (birth control and migraine preventative), I’ve altered my sleep schedule, and I’m even on a diet to improve my self-esteem where my body image is concerned (I’ve gotten kind of heavy in the last few years).Nothing works.Do you have any advice?I don’t want to force myself into sex, but I also don’t want to deprive my husband.Help!

Sincerely,
From 90 Degrees to Frigid in Just Three Years

Dear Frigid,

My first thought is that it’s a medication issue.The wrong birth control pill can stomp your sex drive flatter than Kansas.Another consideration is whether you take an antidepressant at the moment; the “sexual side effects” the ads talk about usually mean anorgasmia, but it can also mean that you just don’t care about it anymore.Or maybe it’s the migraine meds.

But my second thought is that it’s not chemical (or not entirely).You mention past problems in the marriage, and current body-image issues; if you aren’t in therapy currently, you should probably go back, because it sounds to me like these things affect your libido more than you realize consciously.

My third thought is that it’s pretty easy to get into a no-sex rut that has nothing to do with anything except itself, if that makes any sense.Not that you should force yourself to have sex, but what happens sometimes is that you haven’t had any sex for a while, so instead of focusing on the sex itself, you focus on the relative lack of it, and you feel a lot of pressure to do it more often, and that in turn gives you a kind of emotional claustrophobia where you don’t want to do it at all, and it gets put off again and again and the pressure gets worse and worse the more time that goes by, blah blah blah.Again, I don’t recommend gritting your teeth and walking the gangplank if you just really don’t want to, but on the other hand, sometimes you do have to put the cart before the horse in the bedroom, give the mood a chance to get into you.

So, I would try having some sex if you can stand the idea, and see how it goes.If you find yourself reviewing your grocery list during the act…okay, Plan B, which is to get the professionals on the case.Go to a good wholistic GYN who can help you figure out whether it’s hormonal; if it’s not, she can recommend a counselor who specializes in untangling these things.And as you go through the process of trying to figure it out, keep your husband in the loop.Tell him what you’ve told me in the letter; see what he thinks and listen to any suggestions he has.It’s not fun to talk about, but the guilt and resentment and insecurity that get tied up in sexual issues need prompt airing out, or they’ll stick.Keep the lines of communication open and just do your best to see what’s going on.

Dear Sars,

I kind of have a weird problem.It’s not really something that invites suggestions for fixes…it might not be fixable at all.I’m not even exactly sure why I’m writing, or whether you can really advise me…but I feel like I have to say this.

My problem is that I am ugly.(No, I am not kidding.)I’m not disfigured or anything, but nor am I even attractive enough to be called “plain” — I’m just really goddamn unattractive.(So unattractive that people, acquaintances and even relatives, have commented on how I have a weird/funny-looking face).I guess some ugly people get by because they are somehow able to buoy themselves on the belief that they are not, in fact, that ugly, but I was unfortunately not born with this talent for self-deception.

I know being ugly doesn’t really compare to most of the problems that are out there, but it does make life quite lonely and sad much of the time.For example, I will turn 22 next month and I have never had a boyfriend.I have never had sex; I have never even kissed anyone before.
I really don’t know what to do about this.I mean, this is kind of the definition of an intractable problem.But I just don’t know if I can really deal with this for the rest of my life.

I don’t even know what I really expect you to say.I guess I’m wondering if you’ve known anyone in my situation — someone who’s really ugly and knows it — and had any ideas for how they got through it.I’ve also considered plastic surgery, but I have this weird hesitancy about it — this feeling that it would be a cop-out somehow, that I “should” be ugly because I was born this way and should just accept fate, et cetera et cetera…what is your perspective?

Again, this is unfortunately not a joke letter.Thanks for reading — if nothing else, it has helped me to finally just express this.

Thanks,
Not a Pretty Girl

Dear Girl,

My “perspective” is that it’s your belief in your own ugliness that makes you ugly.

Okay, so maybe you’ve got a funny-looking face.So does Steffi Graf.So does Donatella Versace.So what?As a kid, I wished I had a schnozz like Steffi’s, because she wears it so well, because it’s entirely hers.

I can picture you — not what you look like, but how you carry yourself, how you try to move around in the world like a ghost.You don’t stand up straight.You don’t wear red.You don’t think you count.

Whatever you look like, it’s what you look like.It’s yours.So-called “ugly” people get by because they understand that, that what they look like is theirs, but it’s not them, and those people don’t get plastic surgery because those people don’t want to disappear.

Your problem isn’t your face.Your problem is your head.You hate yourself, and a nose job isn’t going to help you there.Find a qualified therapist and stop erasing yourself from the equation of your own life just because you don’t look like Christie Brinkley, because…join the club.

[10/15/03]

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