Attracted to a**holes? Random hook-ups could be fun

By Gabi “the Genuflect Guru” Gaston

Note: This week, I have elected to put down my 12-sided die of precognition in favor of reaching out to you, my readership (or is it reader-schooner? I’m not up on my nautical terminology) for some one-on-one advice. People are often asking me questions such as “What should I do?” and “What’s his deal?” and “Why are you still here?” I thought it was high time I answered them — in print, no less.

I welcome any and all questions you might have, no matter the nature or content (short of something that might incriminate us both). The entire advice staff and I are looking for a veritable potpourri of inquiries running the gamut of the query spectrum. (And, yes, the big words make me feel better about myself.) The letters can be sad, funny or tragicomic — it will be like a Chekhov play, only without the samovars and tuberculosis.

Here goes:

Dear Gabi,

I’m consistently attracted to narcissistic a**holes. Take my latest hook-up, “Ted.” Ted spends so much time primping himself and his (Subaru) WRX that even though we’re not “dating,” I can’t help but feel neglected. I know I should look elsewhere for a sensitive, caring guy, but I can’t help it. What should I do?


Done with D*****baggery

Dear Done with D*****baggery,

(Oh, that has a nice feel to it. The alliteration, I mean.)

I’m afraid we have a bit of an emotional masochist on our hands. I’m referring to you. You know these guys are not going to last, but in a way, that’s safe. If you know something is going to end badly, at least you know how it’s going to end, and there’s a certain comfort in that. I suggest you allow yourself to feel worthy of pursuing someone who could dare to care about you. If it’s going to take some time to work on yourself, take it. Better to occupy your own time and energy than to let someone else waste it.

In the meantime, make sure you date exclusively from the attractive a**hole pool, thus ensuring you’ll have no shortage of come hither Facebook profile pictures.

Dear Gabi,

Why does life always seem to bite me in the ass when I just want it to nibble on my ear? I can’t seem to get anything — classes, work, relationships — to give me enough space to get a decent footing. Any suggestions?


Frustrated with Metaphorical Foreplay

My Dearest Frustrated with Metaphorical Foreplay,

Since you have cocooned your sorrows in a literary device, I will do the same with my advice. Let’s stick with metaphor. Life, like the human respiratory system, is a partial vacuum. Its ins and outs are not a matter of desire, but impulse. We can’t help but take a breath in, because physics requires that we do so. It all has to do with the equalization of pressure. If there’s too much pressure on either the inside or outside, your lungs will automatically adjust. Life will do the same. It often has to find an equilibrium that can allow us to function. A little good with the bad is much easier to take in than huge gasps of either. Short of that, I’d say that next time, challenge life to “bite you in the ass” and it might get so nervous and intimidated that it gives you the ear nibble you wanted instead…

Dear Gabi,

What are your thoughts on “Happy Holidays” versus “Merry Christmas?” My in-laws and I have been arguing lately over whether it’s better to send Christmas cards versus Holiday cards to those we know who don’t believe in any organized religion. Your thoughts?


Unseasonably Enthusiastic


Ah. Now this one’s easy. Everyone knows that the liberal media in cahoots with the greeting card companies conspired to insist that we use “Happy Holidays” in lieu of “Merry Christmas” so that we would have to buy entirely new, “politically correct” greeting cards every season, rather than using the same ones we bought in 1985 year after year.

The greeting card companies then took their exorbitant “Happy Holiday” profits and invested them in a subliminal ad campaign, again with the assistance of the damn dirty “liberal media” to slowly convince Americans to embrace a new Communist order.

Take a closer look at those Hallmark commercials. People watching other people check their mail, cards that play music…in your home…until you wake up and go to sleep with just one song stuck in your head. (In my case, it was the Mexican Hat Dance, but still, that has ominous undertones.) It’s just a matter of time before we’re all wearing grey while marching to the monotony of the state Mariachi.

Another portion of the greeting card profits went to improving schools for inner-city kids, or building an animal refuge or some damn thing, but mainly it was the subliminal advertising stuff.

So, come this holiday season, go ahead and buy some tastefully designed, all-inclusive holiday greeting. Just know it comes at a price. If you want to have a “Red Christmas” this year, you just go right on ahead, Bing Crosbyovich.

Oh, and maybe tell the in-laws to take a hike. The exercise could help.

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