Article first published as TheFurFiles - A World Of Worry, Bicoastal Botheration, Wanna Date Her Daughter on Technorati.
Madame Floretta "Fern" De Villiers, a.k.a. "Amanda Fox", is an author or erotic fiction and commentary. This is her weekly advice column.
I am the type of person who tends to over-think situations and relationships are no exception. For example, I recently started dating this woman named Sara and even though – so far – things have been going great, as with everything else, I worry that what is sunny and bright right now, will turn dark and gloomy sooner or later.
I worry that even though she says I am smart, secretly she thinks I am a complete dolt. I worry that she hates my hair and my clothes and the way I walk. I worry that she thinks my hands are too big and my penis is too small. I worry that she thinks I am too fast during sex, that I am a bad kisser, and that my fetish for watching Bingo balls drop is crazy. I worry about farting in her presence.
Of course, I worry about other stuff too, like I worry that I’ll never get promoted at work and that I’ll be selling rock t-shirts at the local flea market for the rest of my life. I worry that I might get cancer from eating too many hotdogs. I worry that I’ll burn to a crisp in my bed one night when a fire breaks out in my basement and all five of my smoke detectors fail to go off. I worry that someday I’ll be swept away by a flash flood, or that my house will get hit by lightning. Most of all however, I worry that once Sara REALLY gets to know me, that she’ll think I worry too much and she’ll tell me to get lost. What should I do?
Anxious In Akron
Dear You Poor Soul,
You are an exhausting human being and my real sympathy goes out to your parents. It must have been a long thirty years raising you. Anyway, if you could put as much energy into “living” as you put into “worrying”, you could probably be President of the United States, or in the very least, Captain of the Knitters Club of America, or CEO of the International Bridge Players Association.
Luckily, it IS possible to channel your energy into something more positive, but how? Well, it is NOT an easy task. Take it from me – a person who was once similar to you except not quite so ridiculously neurotic – trying to stop worrying is about as hard as trying to wish away a migraine. It’s about as hard as trying to clean your car with the tip of your tongue. It’s about as hard as trying to give yourself a bikini wax using a Febreeze scented candle and a blow torch.
In fact, I couldn’t quite remember how I transformed myself from a bungling case of “what if’s” to a regular “devil-may-care” citizen, so I did some research. I looked up some ideas on how to stop worrying on the Internet – something you could’ve easily done yourself if you hadn’t been so busy chewing off all your nails. But hey, I guess that’s what I am getting paid (almost nothing) to do.
Here are a few tips…
1. Be thankful. Concentrate on how you’ve managed to avoid getting run over by a garbage truck all these years.
2. Discipline your mind. When a negative thought enters your head, replace it with the mantra, “Mila Kunis is as sexy as hell. Mila Kunis is as sexy as hell…” Say it as many times as you need to until the negative thoughts disappear.
3. Be optimistic. Just be happy that the sun is still shining and that it hasn’t spewed any fireballs at the earth lately.
4. Keep a journal. Every day, write down your successes like, “I managed to kiss my girlfriend today for a whole three minutes without envisioning the universe exploding.”
5. Meditate. Sit in a dark space all alone. Close your eyes and breathe deeply. Remember to leave the door open though in case of that fire you were talking about. When your smoke detectors don’t work, at least you will smell the smoke.
6. Seek professional help. If you just can’t seem to shake this worrying thing, make an appointment with a shrink. I mean geez, I can only do so much.
7. Post naked pictures of yourself on the internet. And I know this sounds like an odd way of solving your problem, but I can assure you it will do two very important things. One, it will amuse me for a few hours which is the least you can do to pay me back for all the work I’ve done. And two, if you think you have a lot to worry about now, just wait until millions of people have seen that teeny wiener of yours.
My partner and I have been together for four years. Recently he got offered a job in San Francisco, which he took. Now, he lives there during the week and flies home every other weekend so we can be together. Of course, sometimes I fly out to see him as well, but the issue is that all this back and forth is killing our relationship. As a couple, I expected that we’d be spending most of our time together. When Jack’s away, I miss him terribly. I even told him. I said, “Jack, I just don’t know how long I can do this. I really miss having you around, my darling. Weekends just don’t seem to be enough for me.”
When I told him this, he replied, “I don’t really care Steve, you freakin’ cling-on. My job is more important to me at the moment.” When he said that, I was crushed.
What should I do? His contract is for two years minimum and my own job is well established here in New York, meaning it would be impossible for me to move. I am already looking at other people, in part because I am lonely, but also because I feel like Jack just doesn’t give a damn. Any advice?
Alone And Blue
Finish these sentences:
The opposite of “up” is…
The color of a wedding dress (unless you are Kim Kardashian) is usually…
The best use of a warm banana is to insert it into one’s…
With her head up her @$$ most of the time, it seems likely that Lindsay Lohan will soon spontaneously…
When it’s thundering and lightning outside, it not a good idea to stand under a…
I’d really like it if Lebron James would lick my…
Kevin Federline is a douchebag. (Oops. I did that one for you.)
My relationship with Jack is over. (Oops. I did that one for you as well.)
I am addicted to masturbating. I do it about fifteen to twenty times a day, depending on what is happening. I mean, I try not to let it affect the rest of my life, like work or family time or anything, but I’ll admit that I’ve done it in some pretty odd locations in order to accommodate my intense desire. For example, I’ve done it in the washroom at Target, and on the rooftop of Jerry’s Bar and Grill, and in the back row at church, just to name a few. Do you think something is wrong with me? Should I try to cut back, even though doing so would probably send me spiraling into a deep, deep depression? Or do you think that living this way is perfectly acceptable?
One Really Strong Arm
Dear You Me Be Setting Yourself Up For Back Problems Later In Life,
You know that old saying “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”? Well, it is the same with masturbating. Note however, that the statement recommends “one” apple per day, not “twenty”. Let me tell you, I tried that once – eating twenty apples in one day – and the results, well… they weren’t pretty.
See, I was out with the family for an afternoon of hayrides and apple picking (apple-picking first, long and extremely bumpy hayride second) when I discovered an apple I’d never tried before. As it was the first time I’d ever tasted a “Crispin” apple – all big and green and crunchy the way it was – I kind of got carried away. Finishing one piece of fruit, I then went on to consume another and another and another and another, until after about the ninth apple, my husband looked at me and said, “Don’t you think you should stop now, Fern? You’ve eaten quite a few apples already.”
“Quiet. I’m busy,” I growled. He should’ve known better than to try to get between me and my food. I can be a bit like a tiger that way.
“OK. But don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” He turned and went over to help the kids fill their bushel.
When we’d picked all the apples we were going to pick, it was time to take a ride on the wagon. “Everybody climb on,” called the driver, a fresh-looking young man who couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Once we were all on board, he yelled, “Are you rrrrrready for a fun rrrrride?”
All the kids squealed, “Yeah!”
“Me too!” I yelled, unaware of the events that were about to unfold. As the wagon lurched forward, it was then that I felt the very first twinge in my stomach.
About thirty minutes into the ride – in the middle of nowhere really, but luckily next to a stand of trees – I could feel my bowls preparing to release. “Ummm, how much longer ‘til we are back at the farm?” I called up to the front.
“Another half hour or so.” He raised his arm as if to cheer. “But isn’t this fun?!?”
“Yeah!” the kids squealed again.
“Oh God.” A cold sweat washed over me. “Ummm, could you stop the wagon for a minute?” I bellowed, leaping off into the bushes. Now, I won’t tell you what happened next, except to say that the squirrels and raccoons of the area probably weren’t too happy with me. As for the rest of the wagon ride, I lay groaning on the back, my hands clutching my belly.
On the drive home as well, I could feel my guts expanding and contracting, and I barely made it through the front door before I exploded again. For the next twenty-four hours, I remained confined to the washroom.
And just like you can eat too many apples, you can also overdo it in the masturbation department. There IS something called over stimulation. And do you really want your private parts to go numb?
If I were you, I’d look for something else to occupy your hands. Take up juggling perhaps, or start doing card tricks, practice your speed typing skills, learn sign language, make a paper clip chain, spin coins, twirl pens. If all else fails, coat you hands in crazy glue. Guaranteed, the embarrassment (and pain) of having to get your hands pried off your genitals in the emergency room would surely discourage your habit, at least for a little while anyway.
I have this problem whereby I am in love with my girlfriend’s daughter. Now, I know what you are thinking – “Ewww, gross. You’re a pedophile,” – but it’s not like that. About four years ago, my marriage of thirty years ended in a bitter divorce. After that, I started dating and I met Wendy. We have been together now for almost a year. The trouble is Wendy’s daughter. She lives down the street from Wendy and she comes over often to visit. Like me, Carol was married and has now been divorced for about five years. Over time, I’ve gotten to know her better and I am starting to like her more and more. It’s to the point now that I think I like her more than I like Wendy. In fact, I think I am in LOVE with this woman. She makes me feel like a teenager again.
Sure, Wendy is a great person, but there’s just something different - special – about Carol. She’s more of a free spirit. She’s smart and funny, not to mention, extremely attractive. What should I do? I don’t want to hurt Wendy, but I also don’t want to betray myself.
Now, I’m not sure if Carol feels the same, but I have my suspicions. She seems to go out of her way to come over when I am around. She is also very touchy, and once, when we were sitting beside each other on the couch, she put her hand on my thigh and then smiled at me. I feel like she just isn’t saying anything because I am dating her mother. What do you think? Should I break up with Wendy and confess my feelings to Carol? Or should I keep things the way they are? I know Wendy loves me very much. Staying with her would be a much safer bet.
Mixed Up In Malmo
I see the answer to this problem as two-sided.
My initial reaction is to tell you that life is about taking chances – like it’s better to jump out of the plane first and worry about the stains on your underwear later. Thus, I think you should do whatever your heart tells you to do and if that means dumping Wendy and asking her daughter Carol to get naked with you then I guess that’s what it means. Will Carol return your feelings? Well, you’ll never know unless you ask. If she ends up NOT being interested, then tough luck. You lose them both. It shouldn’t matter about Wendy though because obviously you don’t want to be with her. You wouldn’t be drooling over her daughter otherwise.
As far as Carol’s concerned, if, on the odd chance she admits to liking you back, then I guess you can go ahead. But this is where I have my concerns. Sure, Carol may be of age – like she’s not a twelve-year-old girl or anything – but she IS the daughter of a woman you are currently sleeping with.
I guess what I’m saying is that you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. But isn’t that the way life generally works out?
It’s like you are a really good person but one day, you get a letter in the mail from the big guy upstairs that states, “Heaven is now under construction for the next five hundred years. All potential visitors please make other arrangements with the proprietor of the residence down below. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
It’s like eating All Bran cereal. Sure, it tastes gross but if you don’t include it (or something similar) into your diet, you’ll end up having to crap into that bag that gets attached to the side of your body.
It’s like having some strange and deadly disease whereby the only way of getting rid of it is to drink a gallon of paint thinner.
It’s like wanting to be with a woman so bad that you’ll do anything, even if it means looking like a total creep.
It’s your call, Mixed. Do whatever you can live with.
Causes Amanda Raynor Supports
The Ottawa Humane Society, The National Capital Region YMCA/YWCA, Harvest House in Ottawa,