Ask B, Relationship Expert

Ask B, Relationship Expert

Dear B,
There is this older lady I work with, we flirt way too much for it to be work. She is married. I say she is older because I’m 20 and she is 34. Recently, the flirting moved to the next level. There was an office party. On the way home me and her shared a cab. We also shared a couple of extremely passionate kisses, which she made the move for. I don’t know how to read into this. Just need some advice
– Kiss and Tell

Dear Kiss and Tell,
How should you read into this? This woman’s in a bad marriage and/or she’s lonely and/or she’s desperate. She has you in the crosshairs. It’s a rather simple equation. So you have to ask yourself a question: Is the adventure worth it? Will the physicality, and the erotica, compensate for what comes next?
     What comes next? Number one, there’s no such thing as free sex. There are always attachments involved, deliberations, portends, feelings. Given your ages, she’s a little more emotionally developed to handle these kinds of episodes. Perhaps. Do you really want to become emotionally involved with a married woman who’s 14 years older? You’re 20-years-old; what does she have to offer, except interest in you, that you can’t find from someone more your age? Are you certain you’re attracted to her, and not to the stimulation of an older, sensual woman showing interest in you?
     Number two, there’s going to be a jealous, angry husband. In my mind, he’s a muscular, goatee-wearing electrician with a tattoo of a skull and crossbones on his forearm. Do you want to be stalked by a man who knows how to use currents to fry your body?
     The choice is yours.

Dear B,
I seem to have a unique problem with men – to the point I feel that I may as well give up on a relationship, because it isn’t going to happen for me. What I want is an ordinary guy, who wants to get to know me, who I find interesting as well – a more intellectual type – someone with similar interests, who could be my best friend. I don’t think those expectations are unreasonable.
     Here is the problem. The only guys I seem to attract are either unavailable men – gay guys seem to be easily fascinated with me. And they don’t even make good friends, because they are so capricious – here today, gone tomorrow. The other type I seem to attract are the guys who have something about them or their lifestyle that is a total and complete turnoff. So different from me, and my life, I have to wonder what makes them think I would even be interested. (I am educated, and not interested in anyone who isn’t.)
     Can you tell me what men are looking for? What makes a girl relationship material, and what makes her a great friend and buddy, but not a romantic interest? I really want to know.
– High and Dry

Dear High and Dry,
Do you know what’s interesting about your “ordinary guy?” He’s extraordinary. He’s intelligent. He’s intuitive. He’s patient. He’s curious. He’s a good listener. He’s stable. He’s highly educated. You use the word “ordinary” and yet you’re looking for the antithetical. You’ve constructed the perfect man to fit your needs. But rather than call him Superman you call him Ordinaryman.
     You’re playing a little game with yourself. It’s far easier to complain that there are no good men around than to find someone decent and begin the long training period. Doing the complaining is easier than committing to the work of a relationship.
     I think the issue of your singularity lies in your worldview, not in the field of available men out there. You’re also not unique, despite your introduction. I could show you hundreds of Dear B letters coming from exactly your angle of viewership.
     Finally, I would back away from stereotyping gay guys. What’s “capricious” to you might be stable to another. And perhaps you attract the fickle. I wonder why.

Dear B,
Help! I just got in a major argument with my girlfriend. I lost my cool. I fired back a low blow, commenting on the size of her posterior. She was speechless for a moment, and then she slapped me in the face and walked away. I tried to apologize but she gave me the silent treatment.
     In reality, she’s not heavy at all. She’s quite fit, in much better shape than me, in fact. She has a lovely figure, 34-24-38, but just has a full, shapely derriere, like Jennifer Lopez. However, she can be self-conscious about it, often looking in the mirror and asking me if she looks fat. I know it’s a cardinal sin to make insulting comments about a woman’s body, so I hope I haven’t done irreparable harm here. However, I do think I really hurt her feelings. How should I go about apologizing to her?
– Low Blow Bob

Dear Low Blow Bob,
Nobody in the long history of this relationship column has ever quoted a woman’s measurements to me. It’s so belittling; I’m actually shell-shocked. It’s like we live in Sarah Palin’s paradigm of feminist theory. I’m so shell-shocked that I’m going to let the Jennifer Lopez derriere reference go. You’ll have to give me a moment…
     Okay, now that I’ve recovered from my post-traumatic stress disorder, let me just play shadken. There’s a woman I think you should meet. Judging from your lack of emotional intelligence, I think you might want to meet Ms. High and Dry (from the letter above). The two of you share an unattainable image of what your partner could and should be. Maybe that’s enough of a foundation to build a marriage.
     And if this shiddach works out, maybe I should get into the matchmaking business.

Dear B,
Did you hear the story about the young woman auctioning off her virginity to pay for her college education? She calls it empowering. I call it prostitution. I think this story shows the moral decrepitude of our age. What do you think?

Thank you for your letter. I had not heard the story. I did, after reading your letter, make some phone calls. I did, through an extensive network of colleagues, locate a phone number. The number had a 619 area code. San Diego.
     Our young woman answered. I introduced myself. She’d never heard of my advice column. I asked if she might agree to an interview, for “investigatory purposes,” as I put it. Our young woman was more than happy to answer my questions. She just asked to go by a pseudonym, for “safety reasons,” as she put it.
     “What are you afraid of?” I asked.
     “There are a lot of freaks out there,” Natalie Dylan answered. “Stalkers, sickos, perverts. I just want to protect myself.”
     “Some of those freaks have money,” I replied. “Aren’t you afraid that one of them might win your virginity auction?”
     “Yes,” she responded, very matter-of-factly.
     Her candidness surprised me. I hesitated. A long continental moment ensued. “So,” I finally continued, “let’s start with the basics. What’s your motivation for making this offer?”
     “I’m in big debt,” Natalie answered. “I just graduated from college. I want to go to graduate school. How am I going to afford that?”
     “Good question,” I answered. “What did you study in college?”
     “Women’s studies.”
     “Really?”
     “Yes, really. Why?”
     “Well, there’s some good irony here,” I answered. “You’re offering up your insides to the patriarchal hegemony and yet, you’ve just spent the last four years delving into the powers and processes of that hegemony. Doesn’t that strike you as ironic?”
     “No,” Natalie replied. “It strikes me as a sound business decision.”
     “A business decision?” I replied. “I guess this is the very definition of business becoming personal. How much are you in debt, ball park figure?”
     “Fifty thousand dollars or so.”
     “Yeah, that’s a big number.”
     “There’s no other way to pay it off,” Natalie responded. “I don’t have rich parents. My mother’s a 4th grade teacher.”
     “What does your mom think about this auction?” I asked.
     “She doesn’t agree with me at all,” Natalie said. “She thinks I’m giving away my identity for money. She asks me, ‘How can you put a monetary value on yourself?’”
     “How do you respond?” I asked.
     “I don’t see it that way,” Natalie responded. “Yes, I’m giving away something personal but it’s not my identity. It’s just an overrated fascination. I’m not fascinated by my virginity. Why should I care how I lose it?”
     “Good question,” I reacted. “It certainly is yours to lose however you choose. In the old world, of course, virginity was a ticket to upward mobility, education, an easier life…”
     Natalie interrupted, “We don’t live in that world anymore.”
     “No, you’re right there,” I said. “But my point is, your decision in a way reflects back on the old world view of virginity, as something to be bartered. So, you’re still a virgin, right?”
     “Yes, of course. I can’t believe you’d ask that.”
     “Are you really bothered by my question?”
     “Yeah, I’m not a liar.”
     “Listen,” I replied, “in our day and age girls lose their virginity early. Actually, in the old world girls lost their virginity early too. They married at early ages. What are you, about twenty-two? That’s on the older side to be losing your virginity in both the old world and today’s world.”
     “It is what it is,” she responded.
     “You didn’t fall for some cute boy during high school and lose it in a moment of passion?”
     “No.”
     “You didn’t have a one-nighter in college? You know, after a drink too many?”
     “No.”
     “Have you protected your virginity up to this point?” I asked.
     “I don’t know what you mean by protecting,” Natalie answered. “I didn’t want to sleep around.”
     “But you’re going to sleep around in this instance,” I replied.
     “It’s a one time thing,” Natalie answered. “I wouldn’t call that sleeping around.”
     “Are you straight?”
     “Yes, why do you ask?”
     “I’m just wondering how you can let some guy enter you,” I responded. “You must be able to divorce it in some way, to disassociate. If you are attracted to women, that might help in this case.”
     “I’m not attracted to women sexually,” Natalie answered.
     “How much do you hope to make from this auction?” I asked.
     “Honestly? I’m hoping for a million dollars.”
     “A million dollars? Are you kidding me? That’s a lot of green for a little blood.”
      I thought she would react to this statement. She did not. Another long continental moment followed. Finally I continued, “I’m wondering if your logic adds up. You said so yourself, we don’t live in the old world anymore. Virginity isn’t what it used to be. Why would someone write you a million dollar check?”
     “Because men are men,” Natalie responded. “There’s a fascination with f-ing [Natalie used the full word] a virgin. What do you call it, deflowering? A lot of men have this fantasy about taking away a girl’s virginity. Like they can keep it or something. Like it’s gold.”
     “I can’t argue with you there,” I replied. “Will you use protection, a condom?”
     “Of course.”
     “Well you might run into some problems,” I said. “Many guys aren’t into condoms and someone paying a million dollars, or whatever the sum is, might want a little more… freedom. You know the old saying, ‘You get what you pay for.’”
     “I don’t want to get pregnant,” Natalie replied. “I don’t want to catch a disease.”
     “No you don’t,” I said. “I’m not saying you should have unprotected sex. I’m just saying you might get an argument. Let’s move on. What do you want to study in graduate school?”
     “Counseling. I want to be a marriage and family therapist.”
     “Really?” I said
     “Yes, really,” she replied.
     “And you don’t see the conflict in selling your virginity and wanting to be a marriage and family counselor?”
     “No, what’s the conflict?” she asked.
     “Well, let’s say a decade from now some girl comes to you seeking advice. She wants to sell her virginity for a million bucks. How would you counsel her?”
     “I would counsel her to find her own happiness,” Natalie responded, “as long as she’s not doing harm to herself or others.”
     “Some people would argue that in this case she’s doing harm to herself,” I said.
     “I think people are taking it the wrong way. Why are we so serious about the issue of virginity?”
     “Have you thought about the actual act?” I asked. “You’re going to have some guy, a stranger, on top of you. You could be totally repulsed by the guy. Even if he’s okay, he’s going to be entering you. A stranger! Doesn’t that just make you queasy?”
     “I really don’t have that kind of problem with it. And I don’t think I will on the day of the event.”
     “But if you do you’ll call it off?” I asked.
     “Sure, I guess,” she responded. “I won’t call it off though.”
     “There will be guys reading this who might be interested. Where can they find this auction, on eBay?”
     “No, eBay turned me down,” Natalie replied. “The auction will take place at the Moonlite Bunny Ranch.”
     “The Moonlite Bunny Ranch?” I laughed. “What’s that?”
     “It’s a brothel in Nevada.”
     “How did you get in touch with them?”
     “My sister works there.”
     “Really?”
     “Yes, really. She’s trying to pay off her school loans.”
     “Whatever happened to working two decent jobs to pay off your school loans?” I reacted.
     “Do you know how long it would take to pay off $50 thousand at ten dollars an hour?” she responded. “And then what about paying for grad school? Or paying for an apartment? Or having a life? I don’t want to spend all of my life at work.”
     This last sentence struck me as the essence of her argument. I touched on another argument that I’d read on the Internet. “Some say that there’s an entertainment component here. That you’re doing this for your 15 minutes of fame.”
     Natalie’s answer was resolute: “I’m doing this to pay off my school loans and to pay for graduate school. If there is money left over, that would be terrific.”
     I continued, “There’s a rumor out there on the Internet that you’re going to film the act. That you’re going to make this a reality show of sorts.”
     “That’s not true,” Natalie responded. “That just sounds like Internet hype to me.”
     “It’s credited to the owner of the Moonlite Bunny Ranch, Dennis Hof. He’s made a few sex tapes in his time, you know.”
     “Well, I don’t know anything about that,” Natalie responded. “You’d have to ask him.”
     I did. Dennis Hof didn’t want to talk about the filming aspect. He did want to talk about Natalie Dylan’s ingenuity. “I think it’s a tremendous idea,” he said. “Why lose your virginity to some guy in the backseat of a Toyota when you can pay for your education?”
     I scoffed. There was something about Hof’s tone that sounded so artificial. He followed up his Toyota comment with an offer: “Are you interested in the auction? I could get you a reduced rate, say somewhere around half a million.”
     The interview petered out from there.

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Ask B, Relationship Expert