Dear Uncle Loquacious,
Everywhere I go, someone tells me about his sex life.
Doesn’t matter where we are, or what the encounter is: the checkout lane, the coffee shop, library, taking my turn at neighborhood watch, waving to the neighbor as I mow the lawn. Somebody invariably tells me something about his/her sex life. Sometimes it’s innocent enough; a young man has a date and wants to know if a restaurant is any good. I don’t mind telling a young girl which condom brand has never broken during my usage, but I don’t need to know about the neighbor’s dungeon exploits!
I’ve tried sticking to baggy clothes that hide my shape, but I still get treated to old Mrs. McWhirter’s memories of her last honeymoon in full detail.
How can I stop this onslaught of TMI?
Mjit
Dear Mjit,
As someone who loves hearing about the sordid details of other people’s lives firsthand, I have trouble relating to your problem. In considering your situation, I’ve tried to place myself in the position of someone who is on the verge of being seriously ill. If someone wants to tell me a story with whips and chains in it, that’s all well and good. If the story has whips, chains and poultry, I’d like the option to pass.
The real problem is this: there are all sorts of people in the world, and no one method will work to make them shut up uniformly. Whereas some will catch a clue when given a strange look, others will need to be clubbed upside the head with a LART (that’s Loser Attitude Readjustment Tool, to the uninitiated) repeatedly before shutting their pie holes. The hard part is determining just how much resistance to register in order to stop the offender from bending your ear, or even turning it bright red.
I do get tediously bored myself by certain subjects. For such occasions, I have a blue t-shirt that reads “Cancel my subscription, I’m tired of your issues”. Oftentimes, just wearing that shirt is enough to keep people at bay. Sadly, I have only one and I can’t do laundry daily, so it’s not a permanent cure.
Here are some other things you can try:
1 - If the TMIer is whispering because s/he wants only you to hear, try repeating the last thing you were told extremely loudly and then breaking into fits of hysterical laughter. Hysterical laughter works wonders, especially when someone is bragging about past sexual exploits.
2 - Carry around a copy of The Watchtower and offer it to the unrepentant sinner wasting your time.
3 - Scream and run away. There’s a reason it’s a classic.
4 - Pull out your cell phone and start calling someone you do want to talk to. If the TMIer doesn’t get the hint, poke him in the eye with the antenna.
5 - Stockpile the stories and start publishing them on the Internet. It’s what I would do. For some reason, the Universe has you pegged as the mother confessor of sordid sex details. If it’s not for your own amusement and profit, well, what other reason could there be?
Good luck.
Love,
Uncle Loquacious
If you would like your dating or male/female interaction questions answered, please send an email to loquacious@loquaciouscurmudgeon.net with the word “Advice” in the subject.
Remember, I might make fun of you.
Dear Uncle Loquacious,
I am not sure what to do about this situation. It seems that I am unable to keep a relationship no matter how much I try. While part of this may be due to the fact that I am a neurotic Crazy McCrazypants that always freaks out over every little thing while I am in a relationship, I think that the more important issue is that I get extremely bored extremely quickly.
Over the past few years, my sexual preferences have flipped entirely. Now, I am not really all that attracted to males or females. I only seem to really get excited by post-op female-to-male transsexuals. To be frank, I like boys with vaginas. Yeah. I know.
Now, I do live in San Francisco, which makes this alternative sex not that unusual, but it’s not like I can ask every person I meet to pull down his trousers to check what kind of genitalia he has hiding away in his pants. Why is it that my wants have changed to something that isn’t so obviously attainable? I’ve always liked both males and females, but now if I were to have sex with either a biological male or female, I would just get bored.
Is there something completely off with me, or is this just some strange attempt for me to combine both sexes so that I can have the best worlds? Can’t I just be satisfied with any sex?
Sincerely,
Fluid Attraction
Dear FA,
Wow! Interesting issue. Thanks for writing.
A couple of things strike me right off about your letter. First, I’m thinking, “Hmm… here’s someone always looking for something new.” You mention getting bored with relationships quickly, and your sexual appetites have changed over time to things more exotic. There’s nothing wrong with any of this, of course, but have you considered you might not be really wanting a relationship right now? It seems to me you are in full-blown explorer mode, and setting down with a cocker spaniel and the white picket fence doesn’t really suit the explorer mindset.
Being in San Francisco, as you mentioned, you do have options for meeting folks. You can use one of the sketchy online hook-up services and just state flat out in your profile what you seek. The problem with such sites is that you’re advertising a fetish, not a personality. You may find the hottest trannie ever created, and discover you have nothing in common. You could also try personals. I’m sure eHarmony is right out, but there must be something besides Manhunt, right? Explore your options; that’s your forte.
If your relationship boredom is solely due to the “been there, done that” of one sexual partner, have you considered an open relationship? Find the right match for your personality: someone you’d like to share your bed with in the morning as well as at night. Someone you’d cook for, or who would cook for you. Find another explorer, FA. One who has interests similar to yours. Then, go and explore together.
If none of this seems to resonate, I could pull out some psychobabble about how you’re setting yourself up to look for something or someone that doesn’t exists, specifically so you don’t have to settle down and stop putting notches in your bedpost. I doubt that’s true, though, and only you could know for sure.
At any rate, happy hunting, play safe and I hope you find what you’re seeking.
Love,
Uncle Loquacious
If you would like your dating or male/female interaction questions answered, please send an email to loquacious@loquaciouscurmudgeon.net with the word “Advice” in the subject.
Remember, I might make fun of you.
Hilarity will once again ensue… shortly. I have no Internet access at home, so it’s the library or the ubiquitous cafe for now. Have patience.
I’m coming home on Tuesday evening!
whoo hoo!
Dear Uncle Loquacious,
I was hoping that you could help me with a problem I have been having for years with my mother-in-law. I truly love her, she is great, except for the fact that she still treats my husband like he is a little kid!
The man is 40 years old and she still buys him his underwear. It bothers me to no end, but to make it worse, I suspect that she always secretely wished that her son was a daughter because the underwear she buys him are for women!!
Of course, he only wears them when she comes to visit so as not to offend her, but I still wish it didn’t have to be this way.
What should I do??
Married to a Momma’s boy in Montana
Dear MMBIM,
First, let me get this out of the way: AAAAAAAAAAAAHahaha!!!
I don’t envy your position, unless perhaps you run a very strange fetish website, in which case, your husband and mother-in-law are cash cows.
Come to think of it, MMBIM, I think that’s your only option, short of filing for divorce, and then spending the rest of your life in a nunnery.
When life hands you lemons such as these, you just gotta make a stiff margarita and say, “What the fuck.”
So here’s what you do:
Next time your MIL comes for a visit, get a bunch of tiny webcams, then place them strategically about the house. Catch all that naughty action, then put the best video captures on a subscription-only webpage. Let me design it for you, and we can split the profits, then live out our lives in luxury somewhere near Cabo.
Either that, or keep the videos private and blackmail your husband for every dime he has.
Now that you know Victoria’s real secret, it’s entirely up to you. I’m sure, whatever you decide, you’ll make the right choise. I’ll be waiting for you in Acapulco.
Love,
Uncle Loquacious
This was the winning entry in my recent Entrecard contest. In fact, it was the only entrant, so the author of this post received all three prizes. See what you get when you ignore me? Nothing! That’s right, you rat bastards. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Squat.
Next time, pay attention.
If you would like your dating or male/female interaction questions answered, please send an email to loquacious@loquaciouscurmudgeon.net with the word “Advice” in the subject.
Remember, I might make fun of you.
