Dear Uncle Jeff,
I want to rock my man's world. We've been together for a couple of years now, but things have begun to lose their spice in the bedroom. We're so comfortable together, I mean things should be heating up, don't you think? I can fart in front of him, I stopped doing my hair or shaving because bitches start slippin' when the gettin' is good, and I invite him out with my unfairly attractive work friends.
What is wrong with our relationship!?
Sincerely, Probably Has Hair in a Pony Tail Right Now
Probably Has Hair in a Pony Tail Right Now
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Dear Girl That's Grossing Everyone Out,
Listen, I don't objectify bitches and hoes, so I don't want to make you feel that way. That being said, I think you're underestimating how important a layer of mystery is in maintaining sexual seduction in a relationship. No guy should ever know what a tampon is. Fucking ever. There's seriously no good reason for it.
Now, if you feel that it's unfair that men can just throw a little gel in their hair and crack a dirty joke while still maintaining their charm, it's because it is. Men have evolved to value things like physical attractiveness because that is the best way to ensure the perpetuation of their DNA. Women, on the other hand, have evolved to become attracted to things like prowess, access to resources, and bullshit fucking flat-billed Hurley hats because of their limited ability to produce many offspring without commitment and the sacrifice involved if the mate didn't stick around after porkin' ya.
Look, all I'm saying is that I… I mean your boyfriend, is going to end up banging your best friend Cynthia if you don't spice things up or flirt with a friend to remind the caveman in him someone might infringe upon his mating opportunity. Did you know that we're more likely to want a monogamous relationship if we perceive the members of the same sex around us as more attractive? Get some total beef hunks to follow you around before it's too late! Either that, or try buttsex.
Dear Uncle Jeff,
I'm a gay male probably named something like Brett or Dave. I have been dating a woman for the past year, but it's clearly not working out. I mean, come on, she doesn't even have a dick or anything. It's becoming increasingly difficult to remain faithful when she can't even like, play swords or whatever gay guys do.
The pertinent issue is that my family is Bible Baptist and doesn't take too kindly to the gays. I still live at home, and as strange as it sounds, I feel some sort of pressing need to make the parents and congregation that would resent me proud. I know my girlfriend wouldn't approve, but she would not try to change me.
Is there something wrong with me? What do I do?
Guy Who Thinks Chelsea Handler is Just Too Funny
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Dear Guy Whose Favorite Power Ranger is Also the Pink One But for Different Reasons,
You're in too deep. The thing about being in too deep is that pulling out too quickly is never the safest method. When you're in a large, phallic pickle, the best way to get out is usually the shortest, most simple solution.
Let me ask, what is the shortest difference between two points? Right! A heterosexual line! I say you maintain the façade of your straight relationship and fulfill your romantic needs on the side. Let's be honest, if your girl hasn't noticed you watching Troy in slow-motion yet, she probably never will. Besides, that whole self-righteous “Oh, I just don't understand or agree with it, but to each their own” attitude is just as ignorant and damaging as—not to mention gives credence to-the radicals who think you folks cause hurricanes (I understand the earthquake thing is true, but that could happen to anyone).
So fuck her. Well I mean, not literally.
Your parents would rather you be true to God, and their hatred of your lifestyle is just a massive misreading of what he was saying in the Bible. Yes, in Leviticus 18 it says that you shouldn't lie with another man, but in Leviticus 19 it says that you shouldn't wear clothes of more than one fabric. So God hates queers, but he's also a fashionista? No! God is just saying he hates the competition! Plus, Jesus drank wine with 12 dudes all day—sounds like a frat house. Do you know what happens inside frat houses?
In platonic love, but I'm flattered,
Dear Uncle Jeff,
Your relationship advice is so awesome and your typing skills are so slick. I just want to totally do you hardcore like a wild boar, just straight wheezing and snorting and polysendeton and shit. I love how you spew alliteration like a dictionary hymn and if I were a lesbian letter I'd only want you to male me.
Super Hot Babe
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Dear Probably Hottest Girl Alive,
We could go out on a boat, just you and me, but I comes first, even after the sea.
Dear Uncle Jeff,
I've always been a feeler. Sometimes I misconstrue romantic situations, and by misconstrue romantic situations, I mean completely fabricate them so that I can incorporate them into relatable songs for teenage girls with pubescent angst for profit. I constantly find myself drawn to men with generic, typically white names such as “John” and “Stephen” to maximize their allure, but am perplexed as to why none of these relationships work out.
I know that my international singing career depends solely on my companionate incapability and dramatization of trivial life problems that everyone goes through, but I don't understand why my love is not reciprocated after I've given so much of myself. I feel like I'm a good person. I mean, I chronicle how my life is completely dictated and appraised by a man's attraction to me, with intermittent periods of self-encouraging, superficial announcement of my independence from that fact.
What's wrong with me? Why can't I find a love that lasts?
Super Not Taylor Swift
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Dear Clearly Not Taylor Swift Because Quoting Her Facetiously Might Be Libelous,
You're in trouble…trouble, trouble. You suffer from what we in science call, “histrionic personality disorder,” a red flag for anybody with a Y-chromosome. You're likely a victim of your own success. You are ruled by your emotions, but are just too white to really have anything to be emotional about. In lieu of anything remotely unfortunate happening in your life from which you could garner attention and validation, you've simply used the most interesting part of yourself to gain notoriety and create a fictional universe of romantic depth: your vagina.
Now, where do we go from here? You're likely waiting for Romeo, but also realizing what I have: that he probably just killed himself before giving you the chance to beat him to the afterlife where he could finally escape your clutches (really, he hates your fucking clutch purses). You're doomed to a life you can't appreciate, in which women want to be you and men want you because, let's be honest, your vagina is actually pretty interesting. Don't troubled, little bird—at least you aren't someone with real problems.