Hey, You Are the Boss of Me!

Readers, you were all so helpful with the whole Incredible Barking Dog Sextet issue that we've actually started getting letters from other people hoping you would weigh in with your infinite wisdom. Instead of dealing with unruly dogs and inconsiderate neighbors, today we're fielding a question from a lovelorn modern man. Read, respond and discuss:

Dear Shoulda Woulda Coulda,

Love...everybody wants to find it. Some think they do, but it turns out not to be true. Some run from it only to have it smack them in the face one day. Still others tend to want it so bad even after being hurt time and time again.

I am a member of that third party. My whole life all I wanted was someone who loved me. Now, I wasn't an orphan or abused as a child, it just seems that I've always been looking for that certain woman who would make me feel complete. About six months ago I thought I had found her.

I'm not going to be a dick and name names, but I am going to make it specific enough that if she ever reads this she will know it's about her. For now let's call her Becky. Becky and I met through a mutual friend. I was attracted to her immediately. Like always, I assumed she would want nothing to do with me, but throughout the night we talked, drank and played music on the jukebox. It was a pretty good night.

Long story short, we ended up at my place. Most would write this off as a one night stand, but I'm not like that and I felt different with her. The next day I called her, and she was excited to hear from me, because she was assumed that I just wanted to bang her and move on. She said she felt the same way about me, too and we started dating.

For the first month and a half things went as expected. We both worked and saw each other on the weekends, taking it very slow. I knew I was in love after that first night, but I kept it to myself. She had just gotten out of a long-term relationship, and I didn't want to scare her off.

We would spend evenings sitting on her porch swing smoking, holding each other and talking about our lives and what we both wanted from them. We got to the point where we would say, "I'm abnormally fond of you" instead of "I love you". That way we didn't have to commit to anything.

After another month we started getting more serious. We introduced each other to our respective families. My family loved her, her family loved me so things were great. We talked about our future together, moving in together, having a baby, all the things that a committed couple talks about.

Fast forward a month: she dropped a bombshell on me. She wanted to see other people. I asked her if she had anyone in mind. She said no, that commitment freaks her out. I relented, because she is the first girl I've truly ever loved. I mean loved. I would have done anything for her. I would have died for her.

Then things got weird. She started blowing me off on the weekends; not every weekend, maybe once a month. I asked her why she was pushing me away. She said she wasn't. She had a former colleague over to her house one time during the week and wouldn't let me come over to meet him. She started telling me that she was worried about him because he was involved in hard drugs. I told her that she should be supportive, but keep him at arm's length. She agreed and that was the last I heard of it.

Valentine's Day came and went without incident. We were together and had a good time. She bought a really thoughtful gift and I thought all was right in the world. Little did I know things were about to change drastically.

When we got into March, things started getting real bad. She would make plans with other people and not invite me. She would only have me over during the week, telling me that she was really busy on the weekends now. That's about the time that I started getting really suspicious. I know some of you are saying,"Really? Just now?" My only defense is that not only is love blind, but it's blinding, too. I started putting things together and doing some serious checking on things--my Dad is a cop, investigation is in my nature. That's when everything fell into place. She was seeing her "friend" with the drug problem. Oh, yeah. Did I mention he's married, too?

This is where my already low self esteem hit rock bottom. She would rather be with a married junkie than me? I'm far from perfect (although I do have a sweet ass), but come on! So, I went to her and told her that I couldn't do it anymore. If we were going to be together, it had to be just us. She told me she couldn't, that she loved both of us. There was no way I was going to be involved in that. In conclusion, I broke up with her and tried to sever all contact.

Which brings me to my problem. She wants us to be friends now. My brain is screaming, "NO, DON'T DO IT." But my heart wants to so bad it hurts. So this is the question I pose to all of you. What do I do? I'm sure I've left out a lot of info, but this is the watered down gist of it. So I throw myself on the mercy of the blog. Please give me some advice.

Signed,
Not In The Market For Sloppy Seconds


PS - Don't feel the need to be serious. I could use the laugh.

Hey, You Are the Boss of Me!

Dear Readers,

If there's one thing I love, it's an advice column. But the thing is, I don't think it would be responsible writing for me to offer advice-- I'm the one who needs guidance. Life isn't too tough for me out here on the compound, I have to say, but there are times I just don't know what to do.

That is why this column was created: so you, my readers, can tell me what to do. Boss me around. It'll be fun. If I take your advice, I should probably let you know how it goes. If it's purposely bad counsel and I take it, hilarity should ensue.

Here's my first issue.

I got these neighbors, right? They just moved in about a year ago, and I immediately noticed their two St. Bernards. I knew I would come to hate these dogs, especially the big one with the incongruously high-pitched and never ending yap. I know--a dog's gotta bark. I get it.

Ken and I have talked about who should reach out to the neighbors, let them know we were on the brink of sniping the dogs from the roof. When Ken did talk to the dude, said his dogs were driving us nuts, he actually played dumb and asked him, "Why, what's the problem?"

Yeah, the two dogs were noisy, sure. But not to worry--this winter, they decided to have a litter. Now there are six St. Bernards barking outside my door from six am to ... whenever they want to let them back in. The noise is bad. They're high-strung and totally obnoxious and they're driving us closer to toward madness every day.

What's a girl to do, readers? What is the lazy and passive-aggressive woman's solution to this problem? Lay it on me.

Signed,
I Hate Those Fucking Dogs