Contents of the Gentleman's Purse

Hey Doc,
So my girlfriend got me a little messenger bag for Christmas. She thinks I'm too messy with my stuff and wants me to get all organized and shit. I'm a little uncomfortable carrying a dude purse, but the word on the street is that you totally carry one so i'm thinking its probably not too bad right?
So Doctor Sunday, tell me! Should I carry a dude purse? What does a gentleman carry in his purse? and why?
--Fashion Shy in the NKY

Dear Fashion Shy,

The man-purse is an essential accessory. I actually have a few, for various reasons (size, travel, need-- all of these are factors), but my main bag is a thing of beauty. It is sleek, stylish, and contains many useful items which support and enhance the quality of my life on a regular basis. With my bag close at hand, I am prepared for any number of situations, always ready to assist, amuse, occupy, entertain, create, clean, or do business, as needed.

This is my bag. It's basic black, because that, quite frankly, is how The Doctor chooses to roll, as the kids might say. It's durable, and it's just the right size. Finding a good bag is important, but since you did not make the purchase yourself, let us just assume that your girlfriend knows better than you do how to shop for a bag. So, for the readers who may be considering such a purchase-- nothing at all wrong with asking your best girl for her two cents on the matter. I asked mine, and feel quite good about the outcome (see above).

So, then, what does a gentleman carry in his purse? And why? The contents themselves should explain the reasons. I can only speak for myself, but I carry the following items in my bag at all times: pocket knife, sewing kit, multi-tool, lighter, book of matches, an assortment of pens and highlighters, notebook, sketchpad, small journal, cologne, aftershave lotion, hand sanitizer, ibuprofen, some band-aids, antacids, caffeine pills, and a paperback novel.

The tools should speak for themselves-- a pocket knife and multi-tool, lighter and matches, and sewing kit are all basic essentials to prepare any man on the go for a wide range of needs (and seriously, if you're a guy who can't use a sewing kit, then you need to rethink your worth, because that is a crucial skill for anyone). The pens, highlighters, and various notebooks are creative essentials as well as highly practical things, as are the first aid products. Cologne and aftershave, again, these go without saying--smell good, it's important. The novel is for those moments when I have time to kill, usually while waiting on someone or something.

At times, I augment these needs. Often, I spend time on the road, in which case I might include my ipod (with headphones or speakers), my Nintendo DS (with an assortment of games), or various things I might need for overnight (basic toiletries), or for the weather, such as a hat or a pair of gloves.

It's also fair to mention that bizarre sundries may also make their way into my bag. I recently had a discussion with a friend regarding the strange appearance of some sealing wax (which I needed at the time) and a small package of sculpting clay (which I did not need, but was delighted to locate).

And of course, my makeup, because I'm handsome and sometimes refining the sexy a little bit can make all the difference. Appearance is important--substance AND style, kids, remember that.

See? All of these things are useful, necessary and vital-- and given thought, you can easily ascertain what might be best suited for your bag. Sure, some might ridicule, but you won't care-- you'll have ibuprofen for the headache, your ipod to distract you with music, and something to read, at the very least.

I hope this has helped you. If you need further advice, you know where to find me.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

After the relationship.

Dearest Dr. Sunday,

I recently ended a long term relationship and there has been something weighing heavily on me. It is not a second guess of whether I did the "right thing", but why I am not hurt, nor confused about the situation.

This is someone I had spent every day with. Had held and whispered "I love you" to. Who was my best friend. The person I could spend every day with laughing, partying or just laying around in bed with. And in a series of days, all of this turned to dust and was quickly blown away by the wind. As I'm sure everyone else can relate to breakups, you would think I would be in tears and hurt. Instead, I shed a few tears and moved on immediately, never looking back. Fuck, I'm already dating someone else and it does not feel strange. It does not feel forced, nor too soon to be investing emotions into the girl I am seeing. Strange, right?

Not only this, but I am currently guessing that she is already interested and/or dating someone else as well. After finding this out, I sat back in bed and thought of her with someone else. Instead of pain or heartache filling me, it surprisingly made smile that she too is moving on and that she is happy. WTF, right?

I've never experienced anything like this before in all of my past relationships. This is why I am confused...

And here come the questions for you, Dr. Sunday:

Where was my grieving?
Where were the flooding tears and hurt?
Why am I completely okay dating someone else?
Why am I okay with her dating someone else?
Why do I feel so numb about this whole situation?
Was she really just a best friend who had a title of "girlfriend"?
Did I only love her as a best friend the entire time and that's why this is so easy?

What the fuck is going on here, Dr. Sunday? Because of what I have learned from past relationships and breakups, I don't feel human. I'm not depressed or upset about anything I have mentioned. Everything feels right. And that is the most interesting part to me.

I really need you to check my mechanical brain. It might have short-circuited... or maybe all systems are running perfectly (I side with the latter). Either way, I would like you to take a look inside.

love,
a robot

Dear Robot,

Is it really so strange to think that a decision you made seems, at least in the immediate present following the decision, to be without painful repercussion? That you could decide upon a thing, act upon it, and feel good about what you have done? I warn you, Robot, that in examining the circuits and gears of your robot brain, I may offer you more questions than answers-- but I believe that I can at least guide your programming to better self-diagnosis. Bear in mind, my pretend-internet doctorate is in Bombast, Assholery, and Knowitalletry, not robotics-- but I will do my best.

On the surface level, of course one might expect, in the ending of a relationship, to find tears on one side or other of the equation. Of course, this question comes from your side, so yours is the side that I can address. You followed your story with a series of questions, all which point towards common answers-- you want to know if there is something wrong with you, or something you might have missed in the definition of your prior relationship state, that would explain why now you feel happy for the current case of affairs (your new adventure, and the other party's new adventure). You say that you have never experienced this sort of thing in the ending of a relationship-- and you wonder what that means, as well.

So, where is your grief? You have stated that you "shed a few tears, and moved on immediately, never looking back." Let me suggest a few possibilities here. Firstly, were those few tears enough for you? Or did the act of moving on anesthetize you, at least in the short term, against further tears? Do you think that your quick forward step into a new relationship means something here? Perhaps moving forward made it easier for you not to grieve (at least for right now). Or perhaps the fact that you were willing to move on so immediately means that your level of commitment to the lost relationship was not as you believed it to be. Perhaps the time you spent together meant something different to each of you.

Is it possible that the recent events have happened so close together that you haven't had time to explore in full the things you may feel later on? It is hard to say. Every heart is different, every situation, every love-- only you know what you are truly feeling, and how honest you are allowing yourself to be regarding your heart. Is this self-defense? Is this a calm before the storm? Is this the peace that comes with doing what you believe in your heart to be right for you? The answer to your dilemma lies somewhere between these points, and in your place I would spend time reflecting thereupon.

You wondered whether or not your previous relationship was, in whole or in part, not as you imagined, at least from your side. Did your heart change? Would you have noticed? Were you preparing an exit strategy, with eyes towards a future of your own during the relationship at any point? Further, do you think that the kind of time spent together perhaps led you towards familiarity rather than romance? It is hard to say. A good relationship, at least in my opinion (which is what matters here, as this is MY blog), consists of a combination of deep friendship and deep passion. Maybe somewhere along the way, at least in YOUR heart, the line between friendship and passion was crossed and blurred until it was hard to see for you-- and the constant time spent together made it hard for you to really see that something had changed. You can't see the movie if you're sitting in the front row, you know?

Perhaps this would explain why you would be happy for her when the time comes for her to move on with her life. Maybe in the course of all of this you realized that the care you hold in your heart for this lady is such that you wish her happiness. Sometimes relationships end in bitter circumstances-- so without knowing the exact shape your ending there took, I cannot say whether the spite and bitterness that sometimes appears therein has fallen. I would imagine that while you have acted such, taking steps towards your own future and away from her, that you are at least decent enough to feel bad for any pain you might have caused-- it would only follow, logically, then, that you would wish her well. Only you know how you really feel there, and only time will tell just what the outcome of your choices may be.

Of course, sometimes, Robot, "everything feels right" because it is. Sometimes the right thing is hard to do-- maybe not hard for you, but hard for someone else. Sometimes, you make choices that won't be popular or easy, and that may cause pain to people who do not deserve to be hurt--but ultimately, time will tell. Maybe you're getting off easy at the moment-- but if you did what you believe is right, and believed it enough to be willing to take this kind of step, even if it hurt someone else, then you did what you had to do. Maybe the lady's hurting-- maybe she's in the same boat as you, relieved in some respects, ready for a new adventure, or just taking some time to reflect. It isn't your worry anymore, regardless of the case--you gave up the right to that worry when you ended things.

So, Robot, is something wrong with you? Or is everything as it should be, now? I advise, rather than worrying about why you are not worrying at all, that you focus on functioning as well as you can, leading your life, doing no harm and keeping those gears oiled and turning. A chapter in your life is past, and a new one begins-- do not let your memory chips get cluttered. Save that which is good and beautiful, or what is wise and instructive. Learn, live, and grow. You have time to find your own answers, as we all do in our own adventures.

I hope this has helped you. If you need further advice, you know where to find me.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

How to Sleep, or What to Do if You Can't

Dear Dr. Sunday:

I am SO TIRED. I don't ever sleep enough, and the reason is twofold. One: I stay up late nearly every day. Two: I have to get up and go to work at a grown-up hour about five times a week.

Since quitting my job in order to sleep in is a terrible idea, I am asking for your thoughts on point #1. The reasons that I stay up vary: I might be watching a movie, working on a project, out with friends, talking to fascinating persons via IM, even idle internet surfing finds the clock passing 1am on a regular basis. Sometimes I stay up because I have a peculiar, unexplained aversion to falling asleep at that time. I got Ambien from my doctor, but I'm scared to take it and would prefer non-drug alternatives.

So what do I do? I read half of The Promise of Sleep so I know about sleep debt and REM cycles and circadian rhythms and all that, but I didn't quite get to the bit where it says what to do if you CAN'T, and since I could not bring myself to finish that book (unusual for me, which speaks to the book's annoyingness) I come to you for help.

- Sweet (Day)dreams

I love a challenge. Let me just say that for the record, as if my friends and readers were not already aware. I really, really, really love a challenge.

This is one of the hardest questions to answer. How do you get to sleep? How do you deal with a little insomnia? How do you get out of a routine of bad habits and late nights, and trade that in for a nice set of healthy sleep patterns? Tricky.

It's a new year. It's a great time to get right. So. Where do we begin?

I'm about to get detailed, so pay attention, friends!

Obviously, you've heard that alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, late meals/snacking, and all those sorts of wonderful diversions can impede your body's ability to enter standby mode at the appropriate times. So take it as given, then, that we have decided not to drink, snack, smoke, etc, in the later hours of the evening. We decide, instead, to start organizing basic factors in our lives, like meals and plans and projects. We make lists, and we stick to them. We plan carefully and we focus on sticking with our plans. We recognize that we may not always, for social, health, work reasons, whatever, be able to stick to these plans, but we do our best.

Now. Key among these steps, then, is setting a time to sleep. We pick a bedtime. We pick that and make it a target. We think on a practical level. Once you have chosen your time to sleep, cut off your activity one hour before the target. Shut off the computer. Turn off the lights in the workspace. Kill the television, bid your online pals "good night," and go lay down. Give yourself an hour to unwind with more limited activity.

"But Dr. Sunday, I'm not sleepy!" I know you're not. The above were just the practical and planning steps. Here's the good bit.

First off, choose the day that you will make this happen. You have written out your list, you have plotted and planned. You know what you want to do, and you have resolved to do it right. Now, you just need to teach your body to comply.

Let's say you have chosen Sunday (because it is the best day, and not just because they named it after me). Sunday is the day that you will go to bed at a reasonable time. You will wake up Monday ready for action, refreshed, bright, chipper, all that jazz.

Wake up early Sunday morning. I'm talking 7, 8 am. You're going to have breakfast. Not brunch-- breakfast. It doesn't matter what you did Saturday night. At all. In fact, it's better if you keep a healthy social schedule Saturday night. You want to wake up bleary and tired. You'll need that later.

Wake up, make breakfast. Exercise. You're going to start incorporating some exercise into your daily routine, and unless we're talking yoga, you're not saving it until late night. You're doing it in the mornings, when you're off, or when you get home from work, through the week (and if you're really good, try to do it in the mornings through the week, too, eventually). But this Sunday, this special chosen effective Sunday, you are going to do it before lunch. You are going to have a productive day that does not involve a nap. You are going to eat normal meals, and because you stayed up late Saturday, and forced yourself to wake up early Sunday, you will be tired come bedtime.

You are NOT, however, going to decide that it's a great night to doze off at nine or ten. No, you are going to do your best to make it something more reasonable. In your shoes, I'd target midnight. That means, distractions get shut off at eleven. You're going to reflect, unwind, for an hour. Personally, I like to read, or scribble in my little pocket journal/sketchbook/ideabook. It's relaxing, and I don't get too involved in too much (when I can help it, that is, as I'm easily distracted). This is how you are now going to spend your last hour of waking, from now on.

Monday morning, you wake up early. You don't sleep to the last minute, so that all you have time to do is shower, dress, and snag a bagel on your way out the door. You make breakfast, and you want to get to the place where you can breakfast, exercise, and shower in the mornings. Every morning, where possible. You're also going to do your best to dodge the common panacea that is coffee. If you like the taste, you're drinking decaf. If you're smart enough to realize that there's really no point in decaf, you'll have a juice, or a water. You're living healthy now, and this is your new world. Don't grumble, don't complain, don't cheat-- just do it.

Monday night falls, and you are not going to busy yourself or stay up late. You are going to be tired, but you will be better for it. You will stick to the same targeted bedtime as last night. You will stick to this routine for an entire week, and you will follow it again the next week, trying perhaps even to scale it back to 30-60 minutes earlier, if you can. You are a productive person who sleeps in a healthy fashion, so you don't feel like you have to fall into the traps of viewing the weekend as "OMG GOTS TA SLEEP IN." You are not a kid. You can do this, because you choose it.

This, my friend, will get you on the right path. Between these little changes and actually getting to sleep, you will see all sorts of surprising benefits.

And I bet you're wondering what to do if this doesn't work. Well, firstly, unless you have a more serious condition requiring the attention of a doctor who is NOT just some jackass on the internet who hands out advice with a cat sleeping in his lap, it will work. If you need more tips, here are some simple recommendations that my exhaustive research has brought forth:

--Warm milk (gross, i know, but there is science there)
--Meditation
--Deep breathing exercises (you have google, figure it out)
--Exercise early in the day
--Soft music, instrumental preferably
--Yoga
--Masturbation
--Listening to an audiobook in the dark
--The sound of a fan, the ocean, the forest, or white noise (depending on tastes)

There's science behind all of the above, so I recommend whatever seems most relaxing to you. Failing that, I can say in all sincerity that I've never seen the end of Disney's Fantasia. I greatly enjoy classical music, and I like the IDEA of Fantasia, but seriously, it sends me into a coma.

I hope this helps you. Sweet dreams!


Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

Positivity

Dr. Sunday--

I have a question. How do we make the whole world posi?

--Awesome in Ohio

Great question, and a great first post of the New Year. (For those of you keeping score at home, I've taken a little time off, as my health and other concerns have been in the forefront)

So. You want to know how we can make the whole world "posi." For the kids who aren't quite hip enough to know the usage, or those of you who lack the ability to figure out what we're talking about here, I'll nutshell it for you. We're talking about a positive outlook on life, positivity. Being upbeat and having a world view that encompasses a bit more than waking up vomiting and crying, hating your way through the day to day routine of your job, school, whatever, and then going home to mope into the wee hours of the morning; lather, rinse, repeat, etc etc ad nauseum, forever and ever amen.

I'm going to level with you, Awesome. I don't think it's possible to make the whole WORLD posi as such, because not everyone is wired for that kind of thinking. HOWEVER, this does not make the goal any less admirable or worth pursuit.

There's an old saying my father uses whenever discussing any sort of major undertaking. "How do you eat an elephant?" The response is, of course, "one bite at a time." It's kind of a corny saying, but there's wisdom there. I could have used any number of quotes, proverbs or aphorisms there, but I chose that one because as a child, I was always amused by the visual of my father chasing an elephant in order to steal surreptitious bites from its ankles and trunk.

Hey, fuck you, it makes me laugh, and that's what counts.

Anyway. So. Posi, right? How to. The idea would be, focus on yourself. Take a long hard look at your own life, and try to determine just where you can enhance your character, enrich your enjoyment of life; to actually be a positive person. When one stands forth as a representative or adherent of a particular creed, philosophy, or value system, one stands under a microscope. You can't just say something-- you have to do it; to adhere truly, one must become.

By being a more positive person, and treating your internal development as such as a constant work in progress, you are assured a strong likelihood of self-improvement. You're throwing kindling on a little fire to make it burn more brightly. As that light grows, you're going to gather people who want to warm their respective (and metaphorical) tootsies at your fire. Better still if you're surrounding yourself with positive people. The wonder of modern social networking is that it is quite easy to diversify your circle, exchange ideas and influences. Your attitude might intrigue others, but your actions and words will really allow you to spread that fire.

It's simple enough to make small changes in your own world, and to share your compassion and enthusiasm with the friends and acquaintances and even strangers who share your little corner of the world. Maybe you can't make the whole WORLD "posi" but you can damned sure make a difference. It's your house-- decorate it how you want, you know?

You don't need New Year's Resolutions to make changes-- but it's as good an impetus as any. Dr. Sunday has certainly made some resolutions, but that's my watch. Eyes on your own paper!

I hope this helps you. Best of luck!

Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

Hate, the Internet, Brokencyde and Michael Jackson.

Hi, I was just wondering why everyone makes such a deal about the band 'Brokencyde'? I, personally, love the band. And, of course, I know that many people don't. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but I just don't understand why everyone ridicule and degrade them so badly. I just find it cruel. They don't rape, kill or anything.. they just produce music for our entertainment. Why can't these people just back off? It's downright disrespectful.. and frankly over the top. Haters threatening to boycott the band if they play at the warp tour? Death threats? The insults are just horrendous. Everyone's different. Some like screamo, some like pop, classical, rock, etc. Some people think music is useless and a waste of time. So stating your opinion (i.e. Brokencyde sucks, they have no talent) and passing it off as FACT is just stupidity. What's with all the hate? Isn't hate the reason for suicide, depression, war, etc? Isn't it the reason for Michael Jackson's death? I know for sure that hate is the reason for my depression and my sister's death.
I'd like to hear what you have to say to all this. --S.L.

Dear S.L.,

Thanks for giving me some room to work with on this one. If it was just another question about that band, I wouldn't have even bothered to answer it, but you were good enough to have more than just that to say, so thank you for it.

Should I assume that you read my previous entry regarding Brokencyde? To summarize, I was asked why a man in his early thirties might enjoy their music, and further, what my thoughts on the band were. Needless to say, I'm not a fan, and while I did withhold from unloading hate from both barrels, so to speak, I posited that part of the band's appeal to their audience is the polarizing power of hate-- that the band shrewdly exploits this in order to better market their music, by making themselves targets of the uncensored hate all over the internet here.

It's great (for you) that you love them, but there are plenty of folks out there who just find the music terrible, or the fashion sense deplorable, etc, considering it mere fodder for the lowest common denominator, whatever. But I think your question has more to do with hate than it does Brokencyde, am I right?

Here's the thing about hate and the internet: the internet gives everyone a voice, regardless of message, spelling/grammar skills, presumptive social values, or purpose. Have you ever read the comments section on any youtube page? ESPECIALLY the popular ones. Pick one. Any. For every "oh dude that's awesome" or "OMG i <3 ____'s (music/face/body/whatever) so much!!!!!111!!!," there are plenty of barely articulate rants and gibes, as rife with spite as spelling errors, and all about as necessary as a condom in a convent. It's everywhere. Visit your favorite websites, especially ones where the content has a comments section-- same rules apply. Maybe it's moderated, maybe it isn't-- but if it's not, you can bet your ass it's full of serious garbage.

And why is that? Why do people find the need to vent like that? It's easy-- because people CAN vent like that. Any public forum, unmoderated, if visited enough, will ultimately degrade to the worst of things, because the anonymity of the internet makes it easy. Some people do it because it's funny-- and you know what? Sometimes, it is funny-- especially if it's well-crafted. There are entire websites out there dedicated solely to cutting down things that the authors of the sites despise. Personally, I can get behind that, because I believe speech SHOULD be free and uncensored. I'm willing to put up with the bullshit to be able to say whatever I want to say. Yes, it does sometimes get out of hand, and yes, that's a shame, but these are the risks we as a society have decided to accept in favor of being able to say and think whatever we want.

I could sit here right now and tell you why I think the band Coldplay is God's way of punishing us for NOT executing the members of U2 (for the crime of continuing to put out increasingly terrible records after blowing their collective wad on their artistic zenith in "Achtung Baby"), and I could think of all sorts of clever metaphors. I could use the phrase "languish forever, consigned to the horse-phallus forced-sodomy ring of hell." I might think that was funny, and you know what? I probably have some friends and readers who would laugh, as well. Does that make me right, or just an opinionated asshole? Does it matter? I'm making use of my freedom to speak as I will.

But obviously, there's more to it than that. And there's a difference between internet hate and legitimate, real-life hate. The difference is, people aren't killing people because someone calls your favorite band a bunch of diarrhea-flavored eunuchs. You could write a blog criticizing Brokencyde, for example, and not a single member of that band is going to dive into the Grand Canyon. I'll concur with you far enough to say that "hate" gets out of hand on the internet, but there's personal hate, and then there's spitting for spit's sake.

Hate, internet or otherwise, didn't kill Michael Jackson-- pills killed Michael Jackson. A hard life killed Michael Jackson, and a few decades of bad choices. Personally, for the record, I think he did some fucked-up shit, made a mess of his life, and is probably better off now, but it wasn't bloggers, comment-section ninjas, or internet trolls that killed him. Personal responsibility, you know?

Now, I won't say that NO ONE has ever been killed or driven to suicide by harassment on the internet or even in real life. I won't say that no one has ever cried from some hurtful words, virtual or spoken. I'd go far enough as to say that there are plenty of people who suffer from depression, and getting picked on or hated on, regardless of venue, is a serious problem. I won't offer to excuse the behavior of bullies and assholes-- even when I've been a bully or an asshole. What I will, and emphatically, here, state, is that people suck. Always have, always will. You can't change that, and you can't stop it. Let me tell you, I've tried. It doesn't work, at least not until my Empathy Bomb (patent pending) goes off and teaches the world the real price of every action.

So what can you do? The same thing anyone can. If you can't change the world, you have to be strong enough in yourself to stand against it. Keep things in perspective. You're articulate enough to ask an intelligent question, so I'm sure you're smart enough to realize that there's nothing anyone can SAY to you that, as mere words, will actually alter the fundamental nature of who you are-- unless you choose to let it affect you. Your skin is as thick as you choose. Someone could make fun of you for liking Brokencyde, or the Twilight books, dogs over cats, or McDonald's cheeseburgers or Jesus or the color orange-- but does that make you any less than who you are? People say shit to me ALL THE TIME, because I have a tendency to make myself a target by being free with my opinions. I don't mind admitting that I hate things you may like, or like things you may hate-- but I don't care what your opinion is about it. If you like something I do, or something about me? Awesome. That's cool. It won't make me be your friend, though-- you have to earn that by less superficial means. By the same token, do you hate MY favorite bands? The music I write? This blog? The color of my hair, my cat, my blue eyes, my ethnic heritage, or how clean I keep my toilet? I don't care. Hell, you can hate me PERSONALLY, and it doesn't really affect me because I choose not to let it do so. That's your watch, not mine. If you live your life based on what other people think or believe, you're going to be sad. There's enough sadness and strife in one life that there's hardly any reason to start adding to the pile, you know?

I don't know what factors in your life are tearing you down or making you depressed, but I'm willing to bet that you have the power, inside you already, to be better and stronger than that, or to get whatever help you need to take charge of your life. Seriously.

I don't know if this was the answer you were looking for, but I hope it helps, one way or another. Take care of yourself.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

Orange Juice? or....?

Doctor:
What kind of person throws a half full gallon of orange juice out on the highway? I saw this around 8:30 am today on 75 North and felt curious. I have some ideas....

A) The type of person that would take a bite out of a burrito and chuck it out a car window on the highway because "it is filling".

B) Someone on a serious acid binge.

C) Some kind of douchebag that is not satisfied with ordering a large orange juice with his McGriddle.

What do you think?
--Stupefied on 75

Dear Stupefied,

Those are all excellent possibilities. Finding items in strange places does set the mind to wandering. I once found half of a Taco Bell burrito in a dressing room at Macy's, for example, and thought "you could wait long enough to go from Taco Bell to the mall, and on into Macy's, before you started eating, but you couldn't wait until you were done trying on clothes?" My immediate hypothesis there was something along the order of some strange nigh-superhuman, whose metabolism runs well faster than anyone's ever should-- and thus must consume food in strange places and in strange amounts.

Regarding your orange juice conundrum, I could of course speculate, but instead will regale you with an instance from my own personal life that might shed another sort of light on the matter. As many of my readers know, I'm also a musician-- and during various times in my life, must travel for my art. In younger years, I've spent that time in a van, with a group of whatever gentlemen I'd enlisted to my cause in the context of a van. What many people may not realize, is that guys travelling and sleeping in a van may not always be the most mature or well-mannered, and that the rules and customs of the road are not always the rules and customs of civilized people.

My story, which I assure you will rapidly become relevant, begins with one of the many amusements with which we would wile away empty hours. It was a game with no name, and only one implement-- an egg. Just a plain, ordinary egg, which made its way into our van through a complicated series of dares and bets, but became the focus of several hundred miles of the American Midwest. The rules of the game were simple: if you had the egg, you had to pass it off to someone else, without them realizing it. Break the egg, and you lose-- be the one to place the egg last, and you win. *PROTIP: If you want to play this game at home, drawing faces, phalluses, the Batman logo, or the profanity of your choice on the shell of the egg is OPTIONAL.

During the course of this travel, the egg aged and passed many ordeals-- being hidden in pockets, hoodies, shoes, lunchbags, and hats. Unfortunately for me, it came to its final resting place in my pillow. I discovered it upon laying down to rest, somewhere east of Cleveland, it being my night to be too drunk to drive the van. Of course I felt the strange sensation of the well-placed object, under my pillowcase yet above the pillow, as my heavy and heavily-intoxicated head came to break it, but I was too tired to care. In fact, it was the complaints of my bandmates, who could not abide the stench, that awoke me and alerted me to the issue, an hour or so later... when we pulled over to throw the pillow out in a gas station trashcan. Unfortunately, I realized that my hair now smelled of the distinctive sulfur of rotten egg.

Instantly sober and stinking to the high heavens, I vowed my bitter revenge. And, in the custom of Young Men Travelling in Band Vans Across States, it was to be vulgar in its own right.

We went inside to gather supplies, including sodas for the trip and ice for the cooler. Only two of us were Mountain Dew drinkers (one being myself, and the other being the winner of the egg game). This, I would use to my advantage. Procuring two Mountain Dew BIG SLAMS (the one liter-size, a term no longer used on the packaging, but familiar to many), one for myself and one for my quarry, my trap was soon to be set.

Once back in the van, I neglected to go back to sleep, but rather to drink every drop of my soda right then and there. I concealed this fact from my quarry (who was fast asleep in the passenger seat, and due to take over driving in a few hours), keeping the empty close by me. Now, per the customs of the road, had I not finished mine, I was to write my name on it, before slipping it in the cooler. I did neither. In fact, I took my quarry's soda from the cooler and drank a couple gulps of it, wrote my name on it, and put it back in the cooler.

I didn't sleep for the next long while. I used the time, instead, to void my bladder into the empty Mountain Dew bottle-- first a couple of long, tiresome "beer pisses" and then the logical outcome of guzzling an entire liter of Mountain Dew in a matter of minutes. The bottle, unsurprisingly, was nearly full, and thanks to the green color of the bottle, wasn't that far off from what one might expect to see. I wrote my quarry's name on the bottle, placed it in the cooler, and went to sleep.

***Editorial note: For the record, urinating in a plastic bottle while on the road may SEEM vulgar, but if you think it is, you've never traveled long distances overland with males, where the rule of the road is, always, that the strongest bladder is the one calling the "piss stop."***

Some time later, we pulled over to change spots-- my quarry in the driver's seat, myself in the passenger, the rest of our part in the back. Of course, the quarry instantly wanted to crack open his Dew to get started, and thanks to the cooler, it was nice and cold for him. Ice cold, like the revenge I was to have.

It took exactly one deep, thirsty guzzle before he spat most of his "soda" all over himself before closing the bottle and throwing it out the window. "Fucking awful, I must have gotten a bad one," he would splutter later, never once knowing what he had willingly taken into his body. To this day, he doesn't know, and in the off-chance he's reading this, I've spared his name.

Did someone later, though, wonder why an almost completely full bottle of Mountain Dew was discarded? Did someone, perhaps, years later, pull a similar prank with a gallon of orange juice?

We may never know. I hope this has helped you.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

Culinary Conundrum, or What Will I Be When I Grow Up?

Dear Dr. Sunday,

There are certain times of the year when I'm very satisfied with and challenged by my career--times when I'd go so far as to say I get that peace-filled and remarkable feeling that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, when I'm supposed to be doing it. This, I believe, makes me very lucky, and I truly appreciate my employment. There was a time when I was sure I had my dream job.

But:

There are also certain times when my mind is overwhelmingly distracted from my work, and it's mostly to think about cooking. It's considering recipes, researching techniques, planning menus and reasons to entertain, constructing shopping lists in my mind, wishing I had more money so I could cook more things.

I love food, but I love cooking so much more. It's challenging and frustrating and satisfying to a degree I've only experienced elsewhere in personal romantic relationships.

So I wonder: am I in the wrong profession? Should I be cooking? Should I go to culinary school and have the chance to cook so much more than I do now? Or am I too old (almost 27, sheesh) already to consider such a thing? And do I not have enough natural talent? I'm really not that confident in my cooking, even though I manage to do a lot of it. I'm never quite happy with what I make, but the experience is always satisfying.

I guess I'm worried that: a) I'm pressing my luck--I already have a kickass job, b) I'm too old, and c) I'd end up being even worse than the trainwrecks that are eliminated in the first few weeks of every season of Top Chef. Plus I have a real and true and highly irrational fear of cracking eggs (terrified of the possibility of a partially developed chick inside).

I'm feeling delusional, but also kind of excited. Am I crazy?

Curious,

not-a-chef

Dear Not-A-Chef,

Finding one's true calling in life isn't always easy. There are people I've known personally from childhood, schoolmates, family friends, who always seemed to know where they would be going-- and simply fell into line, lived the life, and are thriving or at the very least comfortably surviving in their own little niches, never really having had to question their routes. In some of my more somber hours, I envy them the simplicity of their lives, the ease with which they appear to travel the paths of life, and wonder if they've ever spent the anguished and exhausting sleepless nights that some of us (like myself) still endure to this day.

And just as your story relates, I know people who work jobs that are very fulfilling, yet want for more, or perhaps simply wonder what else there could be. On a personal note, there is a man I know, a close blood relative of mine, who works a very honorable job which he loves-- yet he too, dreams of other things, at times, knowing that he possesses a passion (and honestly, even with my personal connection to him, I can state OBJECTIVELY, a true talent as well) for something else. Still the passion he desires to pursue is a bit less practical and immediate, for the needs of his life and his family, so he devotes himself to that which he must do to provide, while occasionally dabbling or even diving into the passion which haunts the quiet places of his soul.

Even for myself, I can state that I've walked this line. I'll go ahead and admit for the readers, as I have to my close friends, that I dropped out of college, walking out on a rather substantial scholarship to a very reputable institution, for the sake of pursuing careers in music and writing. I've spent my years since high school alternately supporting myself, sometimes in part, and sometimes in full, with my passions-- writing, recording and performing music, or various aspects of free-lance writing, not to mention the occasional art commission/sale, audio production, or event promotional role. While this is lovely, I also know that as an independent artist, I don't get health care or a 401K, and I'm lucky to have a savings account or even a place to rest my brilliant and beautiful head, so I've also made damned sure that, as needed, I've kept day jobs.

I promise this personal, expository narrative will soon become quite relevant to your circumstances, and I appreciate your patience, which you will find rewarded in a matter of a few brief paragraphs.

In the early days of leaving college, and the years that followed, I was a teen, or a lad in his early 20's, arrogant enough to believe that no harm would ever come that would require, say, the need to visit a hospital. Thanks to my upbringing (very folksy and rural, coming from a long line of bold and stoic people very close to the earth, with a liberal helping of German stamina, Irish courage, and Native American wisdom), I've been able to heal myself and keep myself well-preserved, despite years of very hard living. However, periodically, I've sustained injuries beyond my own abilities, such as when I broke my knee a couple of years ago (onstage, while playing a guitar solo--I'll spare you the details here), which once more revealed to me the benefit of having a very good "day job" which paid my bills and provided me with the high-level health care that allows me to walk, run, climb trees, fuck, fight, and maintain my yoga regimen to this very day. Even now, I work two jobs (one in finance, one in public relations) while continuing to make music (beautifully, I might add) and pursue all of my other ambitions (some more serious than others), which often actually make me some money-- a nice thing, to be sure, but more importantly, satisfies my desire for adventure, passion, and magic.

When I was recovering from the aforementioned knee injury, my father drove me to and from the surgery that was required. In an opiate haze, I recall resting on my bed in my apartment, while my Dad ran to McDonald's to get a fish sandwich for himself (it was a Friday during Lent, and he's Catholic enough to be like, forty-third in line for the next Pope). Dad came back, and asked again exactly what had transpired, and I told him. We had a discussion very similar to that which I have already mentioned to you, and he said it was good that I was wise enough to keep my day job while pursuing my passion. I agreed with him, and he told me this: "Sometimes, there is value in taking risks-- living life without a net. But if you can have what you want WHILE MAKING SURE that the basic needs of your life are cared for, you'd be a fool not to do so. Everyone wants to have a cake and eat it too-- that's the best of all possible worlds, son." Now, while he did tell me afterwards to cut my hair, stop wearing makeup, and to start eating meat again, since the vegetarian thing is probably why I got hurt, since I was already halfway to being a girl and when the fuck was I going to snap out of that hippie bullshit already, seriously, etc, I still consider him, in most respects to be perhaps the wisest person I know, and almost as smart as I am. Almost.

This is my advice for you, my dear: You should follow your dream. I do think, however, that you should do it in such a way that you do not sacrifice the life you have, at least for the moment. Sure, there's romance in the idea that you drop everything to flee to some far-off city to learn the culinary arts at the hands of venerable masters, but the truth is, you can have your cake and eat it, too-- and in the process, learn how to make the kinds of proverbial cakes that astound and astonish, that are as much a joy to prepare and devise as they are to eat and to share. Work with your schedule-- make some sacrifices for yourself and for your art. Figure out how to attend cooking school while still maintaining the job that you have. You will, then, have quite a bit of time to ascertain which life suits you best. Maybe you end up becoming a chef, and loving it-- and maybe you keep doing what you're doing, but go even further towards astounding the people who love you most by preparing meals of such amazing depth that your passions are sated, desires met, and your happiness is assured. The fact that you're willing to ask yourself this question, rather than dismissing it as some foolish dream, tells me that you're onto something worth pursuing.

I've given this question a lot of thought, and every time I look at it, I realize how totally right and very fucking smart I am. I think you're ready to take this step-- maybe you just need the impetus of hearing from someone on the outside. Follow your dreams, but save yourself the peace of mind that your "day job" will offer. You'll stay satisfied and you'll learn a lot about yourself. That's the kind of education that only life itself can provide.

I hope this has helped you. If you need further consultation, you know where to reach me.

Always Listening,

Dr. Sunday

PS-- You're never too old to follow your dreams. Betting on yourself is NEVER pressing your luck, and reality television is about as far from reality as you can get.

And for the record, the eggs that you purchase from the store are not ever fertilized, and thus will not contain any sort of embryonic chicken babies. I can state this categorically. Unless you're buying your eggs from a man on the side of the road, or driving to a farm to get them right out from under a hen, you've nothing to worry over, I assure you.

If this one doesn't offend you, you might be worth knowing.

To the ever witty and handsome Doctor Sunday,

Have recently been pondering life. Love, pain, existence, etc. Included in this waxing, and the one I wish to speak on, is the biggest perplexity of all..

Why is everyone a moron?

It seems that quite recently I have been surrounded by more stupidity than deemed necessary. As I have never been naive in the least, I have always had my suspicions of half the general population being sadly afflicted with being an idiot. It has just been growing in numbers more so than usual lately.
To elaborate: Why does my roommate have the time to get weeded/eat all of my food/whine about women daily, but cannot spare twenty seconds to wash a fork?
Why is an ex m.i.a. until they need an outlet to bitch or rant to, i.e., you?
Why does that drunk girl you don't know at The Tavern feel the need to let you know exactly how long she's gone without sexy time (and how horny she is) whilst spilling your beer and attempting bedroom eyes at all your friends?
And then there's even the non-personal. Why is gay marriage illegal?
Why does the creditreport.com guy continue to be allowed commercial time? I could go on for days here.

Is this just a part of human nature that I will eventually have to accept and live with? Is it because Pluto is in retrograde? Am I just unmoving, unfeeling, unkind? (bonus points for alliteration) I would surely hope not as I'm a humanist first and foremost. Please share your thoughts on my, and the world's, dilemma.

xo,
Pissed off Smarty Pants.

Dearest Pissed off Smarty Pants,

This is indeed a tough and challenging question. Why are there so many morons? Can we blame it on modern diet, or perhaps the influx of new avenues of vicarious entertainment that serve to dilute creativity, stunt motivation, and cripple intellect? Is it a sign of some pending apocalypse not predicted in any ancient text or entheogen-addled shaman dreams? Does the Matrix need more RAM or to switch to Linux? All valid questions.

We could point the finger in many directions. While I'm only half-joking when I say that the "information age" serves to leave people more "educated" while growing less intelligent, the truth is, people really do pay too much attention to things that aren't worth it. Take the continued existence of American Idol. Anyone with even just a single pair of neurons that spark even periodically should find that sort of thing to be a slap in the face; particularly anyone who values art enough to NOT wish it to be so BLATANTLY commoditized. Now, I could sit here and insult even some of my close friends by calling them stupid for watching it, but I'd rather not, because some of them are people I see often enough to make social exchanges awkward were I to make that choice.

So looking at the results, we wonder: is there a causal relationship between the modern media and stupidity? Do we support moronic things because we're stupid, or does our stupidity result in a market for stupid things? It's a vicious cycle.

The point is, and I'll be shockingly Nietzschean for a moment, by saying that morons are out there to make the non-morons shine. Think about it. Evolution has created a number of wonders and traits (seriously, click that link; it's awesome, right?), all while leaving others far, far behind. The favorable features provide mating advantages, and social evolution often adopts innovation. Now, the scary thing here, is that natural selection appears to be leading us in the wrong direction, as the proliferation of idiocy is reaching a more critical stage, when the opposite SHOULD be true. We're getting educations, we're travelling more widely, we've got access to so many things beyond the dreams of previous generations-- so why is it that we're consistently producing underachieving, uninspired hacks who consume foolishly, travel seemingly only to prove that a fool in Chicago is a fool in Paris, and allow atrocities such as this to be inflicted upon the general public.

Why? Isn't it obvious? Clearly, we've reached a plateau, and in some metaphysical sense, evolution/God/the Universe is saying "ok, seriously? all this time and the best you can do is this?" This is why we have so many legends, myths, and tales of a Great Deluge. It's an archetype that plugs directly into the forward-thinking psyche of Human Development. We know that the day will come, when rather than "wickedness," "ungodliness" and "immorality," we are damned by "stupidity," "douchebags," and "80's retro."

It's all our own fault, though. In the last few decades, more so than ever, and worse still today, we're raising a society of people who are born and raised without ever having to actually try; people who are fed entitlement and inflated senses of self-worth, who are coddled through situations where character should have been built. LET THE CHILDREN FAIL. IT IS THE ONLY WAY THAT THEY WILL EVER REALLY LEARN. YOUR ILLITERATE, BELLIGERENT, LOUD-MOUTHED BEDWETTER IS NOT SPECIAL-- THAT HAS TO BE EARNED.

Would that I knew the proper spell to incant, to make this all go away-- give our pesky species the chance to install upgrades and restart. Sadly, such is not the case, so these are facts and facets with which you and I must continue to cope. And as logic will dictate, when the facts of a situation are immutable, one must address reality by altering perception and/or altering reaction. For example, to address your sub-questions: your roomie puffs, dines, and whines so much because if he shut up, he'd have to find something else to do, and washing up seems distasteful: in other words, stupid, lazy, and it sucks--keep your food where it cannot be taken, roll your eyes at the whining, and wash only your own dishes. And ex's who only come around when they want something are selfish and stupid enough to believe that you don't have anything better to do than make yourself available to them--be stronger than that, and you can always hang up the phone, hit the "invisible" button in chat, or be clever with excuses. Remember, lying to a moron doesn't count as dishonesty-- so go for it, with my blessing.

The drunk bar slut behaves thus because she is slave to her appetites and impulses, thereby little to differ from the animals at the zoo. I'd recommend throwing peanuts at her and taking her picture until she either starts flinging feces or hides behind a tree. It's 2009, drunk bar slut-- getting laid is easy, and you don't have to play games or reek of desperation while embarassing yourself and everyone who knows you. Put on some underwear and close your fucking mouth-- if you weren't so pathetic, maybe you wouldn't HAVE to whine about "how long it's been."

Gay marriage is illegal because there are too many ignorant idiots holding onto outmoded morality, who want to hold onto their places in the rising divorce rates. Don't worry, we'll have gay marriage before we have legal pot--and both of those are coming down the line, doubt it not.

And the creditreportdotcom guy is still on the air because we are being punished for all of our sins, and for allowing the continued existence of Coldplay.

As for the last part of your message, do not blame yourself-- you are certainly not "unmoving, unfeeling, unkind." You're merely aware and quite realistic, and if the weight of the world makes you a little bit bitter sometimes, it is to be understood. You can be a humanist and still find your heart a bit sour on the thought of your fellow humans, sometimes.

My advice to you is simple. Do what I do: surround yourself with intelligent, charming and attractive people; chances are, you already know some-- seek their company. You can meet new people through those you know already, and that's fantastic, because you can pick and choose. Invite yourself out, invite others in. Participate in activities geared towards your interests, and make friends-- take a class, get up and go out, be creative and use good judgement. Be choosy with those you allow to become close to you. Initiate creative correspondences-- collaborate. Be smart and never, ever, EVER settle for anything less than what will really keep you happy and stimulated. Ignore what you can of the unwashed masses, and learn to laugh at what you can't ignore-- the more you learn to laugh, the easier it is to keep that shadow right out of your heart, and moreso, there is POWER in mockery. Keep your wits sharp and don't drag yourself down unnecessarily. A nice sense of superiority helps, too, but you'll get that anyway.

Your recognition of the problem tells me that you're going to be JUST fine. I hope this has helped you, and if you need anything else, you know where to find me.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

Let's talk about sex.

Dear Dr Sunday,
I was wondering if you had any advice for a couple. We've been together for a little more than two years and we don't have sex very much anymore. We still love each other but for some reason we're just not doing it that often- maybe once or twice a month. When we first got together we used to do it like three or four days out of the week at least. Im still very attracted to my boyfriend and hes still very attracted to me, but how can we make things a little more interesting for both of us? I dont want us to stop being interested in each other or to start looking elsewhere. Can you help us pleeeeease?
Frustrated in Fremont

Dear Frustrated,

Using extra vowels in the word "please" is a great way to get my attention, apparently. That was a joke. Never do that again. (also a joke, fyi)

Let me break this down for you as simply as possible. We're going to address this issue on two fronts-- causes and symptoms. This is going to require some work on your part-- but if you really care the way that you claim to, and I have no reason to doubt that you do, then you'll find this a breeze.

Ok. Now, to proceed logically, let me ask you: is something different in your relationship? Has something changed, qualitatively or quantitatively, in the nature of your interactions with your boyfriend, that might impact this? Are you spending less time together, are you spending less time thinking about each other? Is someone taking someone else for granted, is one partner more selfish than the other, have you both begun to drift, etc? Has something HAPPENED? Are both of you in good health? Do you live together, do you see each other often? Are you both honest about your needs and feelings, or your level of commitment to the relationship? How do YOU feel about YOURSELF? How does HE feel about HIMSELF? Etc.

Here's the thing, Frustrated. ANY of the above could factor into a reduction in the affection level. Are you physically affectionate enough OUTSIDE of sex? It's easy, in the first blush of a relationship, to hold hands, touch, be close, be intimate, make your friends nauseous through public displays of affection-- but when you're alone, do you still kiss good night? Do you still say "I love you" every time you meet? Does this love, honestly, to you, mean enough to you that you're willing to give of yourself? And what of him?

Those questions themselves pose suggestions, surely, if they are in fact the problem, but since our correspondence, at the moment, is limited to an email and your response (at least until you write more, I suppose), all I can say is ask yourself all of the above and if you find an issue, address it-- and if you need more advice, by all means, feel free to ask. This advice thing is kind of what I do, right?

Now. How, in the short term, to address the problem? Well, for the sensibilities of my readers, I'll keep this relatively clean, though I do believe my advice will lend itself well to resolution of your immediate sexual concerns, while you choosing to pursue and face any root matters (if any) as listed above, or otherwise, will address the problem at its core. In other words, I can't help you love your man any more than I can help him to love you, though I can probably give you some advice to get you both screwing like you should already be.

Thought one: honesty. If you're both concerned about not having enough sex, then try to figure out why. Sure, it gets less hot if you're scheduling it, but for FUCK'S FUCKING SAKE, make time for each other, with an emphasis on that. Since it's you writing me (and not HIM writing me) I'd suggest that you take the reins here yourself (figuratively OR literally). Are you really that attracted to him? Do you love him? Then SEDUCE the guy. Use your charms and wiles. Talk to him. Ask him about fantasies. Seriously. Sounds corny, but if you suddenly reveal something about your own, he's going to feel a bit comfortable stepping forward to tell you something. See if that's not something you can work with. I can guarantee you, unless he reveals some unforeseen really sick fetish, you're both going to have one HELL of a time with that talk, especially if you really make sure it keeps going well past the initial awkwardness. You'll thank me. Talk about what you both want, and see how long it takes to start seeing some of that come to life.

Thought two: what you already know. You're the one writing me, not him, so maybe he doesn't read this blog (if so, he's probably not worth fucking anyway, but since you love him, I'll assume he's a loyal reader, and pretend I was just joking when I said that). This says clearly that you really want to make this happen, but you're at a loss. You're at the end of your rope, so to speak, and you need more than what you have. So get more. Make this happen yourself. You know this guy. You know him a lot better than I do. Surprise him. Give him what he wants: positions, costumes, location, roleplay, talk, accessories, unrestrained passion--whatever it is that you know he would enjoy. Give him something that's going to leave him wanting more. Send him a message, write him a letter, take a picture (but only if you're sure this is going to last, obviously), or just fucking surprise him when he least expects it. Show up and tell him you need something, get it and then go home. He'll be so blindsided that he'll be forced to take a whole new perspective on who you are-- and if he's really into you, he's going to find himself a lot more willing. And if you're the problem, if you're the one who isn't as willing, then giving yourself time to use what you know of him to plot, plan, and scheme for amazing experiences, you're going to feel like more of a sexual person. You can't be lazy with love. You have to give, you have to show effort, you can't merely expect things to happen in their own time. Those kinds of thoughts are exactly why this kind of thing happens to people.

Being male myself, I can state categorically that if you provide him with something that is a true EXPERIENCE, you're going to give him the kind of gift (memories, desire, satisfaction) that will keep him focused on you-- and at the same time, you're going to find yourself a lot more interested, as you work to make things more interesting. And it won't take much effort in that way to really let love (or at the very least, sex) to engage itself into making things a lot hotter and more interesting than you ever thought possible, or ever could have accomplished alone.

Trust me, I'm a pretend internet Doctor. I'm not going to let you down on this one. If you do as I say, you won't let yourself (or him) down either. I've got plenty more I could tell you, but I'd rather not denote this particular entry as NSFW. Believe in yourself, use your creativity, and if you really want this, the appetite will provide the impetus. Do it! It's on you now. Stop reading (for tonight) and start plotting!

I hope this has helped you.

Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

Age and betrayal.

Dear Dr. Sunday,

I broke up with my long term, live in boyfriend last year because, among other things, he was carrying on what I believed to be an inappropriate relationship with a high school student who was the little sister of one of our friends. He insisted nothing was going on but now they are in a relationship so I think I was pretty much dead on. He is 26 and she is 18. I find this to be incredibly disgusting despite the techinical legality of the whole thing. My ex is incredibly smart, he graduated top of his class from a very prestigious university, is a two-time national debate champion and just finished a clerkship with a federal judge and is now working for the government in an important position. But, that being the case, how can he be so stupid and date a high school student? Is there something wrong with me that I dated such a creep? Thanks!

Sincerely,

Confused in the City

Dear Confused,

Let me first state that I am sorry to hear what you have been through, particularly with respect to the presumed (and likely) infidelity (emotional or otherwise). Ending a relationship is, more often than not, a very unpleasant and difficult thing, and situations such as these only make it that much harder. I do hope that you've found yourself the better for it.

I'll answer your twofold question in reverse order, because I can, and it seems easier that way. I don't believe that you should blame yourself, or that there is "something wrong" with you for having dated him. He was the one who wronged you, at least during the relationship. Obviously, the things he has done subsequent to the relationship are his own affair, no pun intended. Even if there was in fact "nothing" going on, and he merely considered the young lady a friend, he should have respected AT THE VERY LEAST that it made you uncomfortable. If he were truly committed to the relationship, he would have shown you the courtesy and respect due you by facing and addressing in a productive and unselfish fashion, or removing the situation. Relationships are ALWAYS supposed to be about compromise, which means sacrifices must be made particularly where outside forces (in this case, a high school girl) act as obstacles. The fact that he did NOT, according to your account, make the necessary changes proves at the least he is/was a selfish person who put his own wishes before your own and well ahead of the relationship itself, and also tends to imply that his unwillingness to make such a change in that circumstance might be indicative of actual infidelity, whether physical, emotional, or both. He wasn't willing to let go for a reason-- it isn't hard to imagine what those reasons might have been, particularly given the circumstances now.

As for WHY he would date a high school student? To that, I cannot say with certainty. I have to admit that the age difference between myself and my girlfriend of the last five years is exactly the same-- and a little math will probably make it clear that she was a high school senior when I started dating her, two weeks before my 26th birthday. At the time, we'd not really discussed the age difference (I thought she was older, she thought I was younger, and we met through work), but to be fair, I also was NOT in a relationship with someone else at the time. We simply made a strong emotional connection, one that blossomed into something very real for the two of us, despite the years. For us, it felt natural-- it's not as though I sought after a much younger gal, it just sort of happened that the person I fell in love with was also someone a fair bit younger than me.

With your ex, however, he had to have known. So why, then? Obviously, he wasn't anywhere near as committed as you to the relationship. Maybe he had some sort of unresolved emotional issue inside, where he saw in a much younger girl the chance to recapture some sort of vitality or youth? Or could it be that he felt that the relationship had become stagnant for him, because he'd never really given himself fully to it, and found his wandering eye to be more than he could stand? For some people, the "grass is always greener," which doesn't mean your pasture is any less beautiful-- it just means that despite his obvious intelligence, he may lack a certain level of personal maturity. You can be a very intelligent person and still be an impetuous child, especially when you're a male.

Or, maybe, and I can't know for certain, but maybe-- she's the one for him, and the time was right, and age is, at certain points in one's life, merely another label. Meaning, then, that this is not and never was your fault-- it was just time for things to change, and maybe he's happy now and you'll be happier too. It's difficult to say, but you have to consider all possibilities.

You should not hold any of this against yourself, or feel any less worthy as a result of it. It's hard sometimes not to doubt oneself, particularly when you've been put aside in favor of something else (if this was indeed the problem), but the fault is not in you-- this guy acted like a selfish asshole, or this guy wasn't right for you, or this whole time had come and gone, and now it's time to learn, grow and move on.

Set your sights on the future, and learn from the past.

I hope this has helped you. Be well.

Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

Shorties, Anonymous, and Facebook: a collection of the brief.

*****Dear Readers-- what you are about to read is a list of random short questions asked of me, whether via anonymous emails (some nice, some fake, some douchey), or comments left on my facebook page. Thought I'd share, because, well, I want to, and this is MY blog. If you don't like it, you're probably not reading this anyway. So enjoy, friends. --The Doctor.*****

#1- Doctor: Itchy head.. Do I have lice? And if so, Will you pick them out? --T.

Dear T: Getting checked for lice is fun and easy-- those popsicle stick things they run through your hair kind of feel good on the scalp.
Lice-picking is a premium service, not included within the Dr. Sunday free project, but I could probably offer you a coupon or something. I'd also advise not wearing the other kids' hats. Love, Dr. Sunday

#2- Doctor Sunday: My question for you is... My boyfriend is turning 28 in August and I have no idea what to do for him. I know I want to do something very creative and adventurous but I'm running low on ideas. Any thoughts??? --M.

Dear M: Might I suggest, firstly, a surprise party, on a date at least one week prior to his birthday? I successfully caught my dear Claudia with a great surprise party by enlisting (without her knowledge) the help of a couple of her friends (whom she didn't know I had contact with; I used facebook and was VERY tricky). A surprise party ON the birthday would be too easily deduced.

Are we discussing a gift, an event, or a combination thereof? In my experience (as in, being a guy), I will tell you that nothing moves me more than an experience I can remember forever, or something I can hold onto and look back on repeatedly, whether it be a poem, a hand-made gift or hand-made card, or simply a letter on clever stationary. I'm the sentimental type, so a keepsake is a lot more meaningful to me than say, that video game I've been dying to play, which I'll play through once and then never again. I don't know if your man falls into that category, but that would certainly make your job easier.

Using your wits, you can guarantee the kind of birthday surprise for your boyfriend that he'll never forget.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

#3-- Doctor Sunday- Why are you such a homo? --Goat-Sodomizing Fuckbottle [identity edited by the editor because I fucking CAN]
Dear GSF,
It's 2009, why not? Dr. Sunday just loves people. Plus, you're really cute. Piss off, my dear Goat-Sodomizing Fuckbottle, and if you feel again like speaking to me, at least be funny. Keep reaching for that rainbow! --Dr. Sunday

#4-- Dr. Sunday, Where the hell did my pants go??????!@? --K.
Dear K.,
They are under my bed, in my box of keepsakes, because your love means so much to me that I can't imagine being able to part with them. I regret the necessity of sneaking up behind you with a chloroform soaked rag, just to steal your pants, but to be honest, after the roller coaster/whirlwind madness we shared, I simply didn't believe that you'd be willing to part with even such a simple keepsake.

Or maybe that was a joke. I'd advise looking through your laundry hamper aggressively, or looking under your bed. Normally, when I can't find an article of clothing, it has either been misfiled in my closet/dresser/etc, or buried somehow in my laundry, if not appropriated by my beloved cat as part of his fortress under my bed.
Hope this helps you.
Love,
Dr. Sunday

#5 Dr Sunday-- (*editor's note, spelling in this query has been corrected, and rather extensively at that): what is your problem with BC13? I read your post and you're just running your mouth like an asshole. no one asked you. --the dank knight
Dear "The Dank Knight,"
First off, yes, someone DID ask me. Secondly, you clearly didn't read the post thoroughly enough, but I'd blame that on the apparently severe level of cognitive disability you displayed so memorably across your email. Tell your mother or special needs provider that I told you to "write back when puberty hits, or functional literacy-- whichever comes first." Twat. Sincerely, Dr. Sunday.
PS- the "DANK KNIGHT?" seriously? dude. Wow.

*****And I'll close there. I've got more, but I'll save those for a future date. I'd once again like to remind you to feel free to ASK ME ANYTHING, and thank you, my dear readers, for making this blog such a fun and successful project.
Much love, and always listening,
Dr. Sunday*****