Living In Sin

Living In Sin: Exsqueeze Me

Dear Jen,
Could you explain what a light hug means? There's this woman that I've been making friends with slowly. She's in a situation that will be over with next month and really can't do anything until then, so whenever I see her, which is sporadically, she will give me a light hug. What I mean by that is it's almost not touching, with no real, full hug, occasionally followed by a peck on the cheek. This started I'd say about 2 months ago and I started making friends with her about 4 months ago.

Maybe I'm making too much out of nothing, but I really like her and I'm afraid to ask her why she never does a full embrace like most people. Am I missing something, or should I just stop trying to find something where there is nothing?
- I Need the Squeeze

Dear Squeeze,
I went to the movies the other day and sat next to this guy who was a giant space leech. He wasn't actually that big of a person, but his energy was Godzillan. Suffocating. Everywhere. To make it worse, he was leaning in my direction, sitting all up on my side of his seat and his meaty arm was taking up the entire arm rest. I felt like if either one of us coughed he'd wind up in my lap. I don't know if he wanted himself a piece of The Jen, or if he spreads out, blob like, everywhere he goes, but I had to move to another seat. I couldn't concentrate on the movie with his very thereness so very there, regardless of why he was doing it.

Everyone has their own way of being in the world, and there really is no way to know why they do it how they do until you get to know them. There are people who insist on kissing you on the lips every time they see you (these people are never, ever attractive and they always have wet lips). I've also met people who hug like the drowning, shake hands without bending their fingers, kiss the air, talk two inches from your face and one lady who meets all physical forms of greeting with a cute little, get-the-hell-away-from-me wave. Could mean something about you, could mean something about them, could mean nothing at all.

I have no idea what Hug Lite means either - it could be much the same as Blow Job Lite, which for some announces a lack of skill, a fear of choking, exhaustion, lack of respect for the body attached to the penis, latent lesbianism, etc. Or it could be like Call You Right Back Lite, Monogamous Relationship Lite, or Safe Sex Lite.

You're just going to have to get to know her better, because there is no way in hell you're asking her what the deal is. Not because the idea of it scares you, but because it reeks of obsessive neurotic behavior and she will no doubt catapult you back into Hug Free status if you do. So knock it off. Continue to get to know her, stop wasting your precious time nitpicking at details and make sure next time you see her that you give her a big fat snugzilla of a hug. If that's the kind you give, of course.

Living In Sin: Stuck in the City

Dear Jen:
I've been married for 4 years and I am not happy. I've inwardly talked to myself about divorcing but I can't seem to do it. This is my second marriage and I'm scared.
I work full time and have 2 kids to support in the very expensive city of Manhattan. My rent is $2,300.00 per month, not to mention my other bills and I could never afford it alone. I can't move out of this city because the schools are great and my kids come first. I do love my husband, but I lost the feelings for him. He works full time, but does nothing to help me - he doesn't do any housework, never goes food shopping, has never done the laundry, never changes the light bulbs or toilet paper rolls, leaves clothes and towels on the floor, etc. He is a step-father to my children and doesn't really interact much with them. They aren't so fond of him either. He is a room mate more than a husband and is not what he seemed to be years ago, but I am not the type of gal that can get along alone. I need a man in my life. At my age who I am going to find? I know you'll say there are plenty of men out there but there really aren't. I don't want a man with tons of baggage or problems. I hate starting over. I don't have the energy. I used to be beautiful but I am now overweight and getting old. I would not feel comfortable being intimate with any man anymore.

What should I do? Sometimes I think that staying with my husband isn't so bad. At least he pays a lot of the bills, is very handsome, friends and family like him, and he works hard and IS faithful. HELP!
- Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Dear Should,
I can't remember the name of the show or which channel it was on or who was in it, but I one time saw this hilarious skit where these two hillbillies were freaking out screaming because one of them was trapped beneath a canoe. The other one was yowling for help and trying to lift it off the ground but couldn't because she was standing in it. Get it? She couldn't lift it because she was standing in it? That skit reminds me of you, not because you don't sound even remotely funny when I try to re-tell your story, but because you're standing in your own little canoe of suffering, acting like you can't lift it when you can. So before I give you my two suggestions, I am going to make one demand: get some therapy. Immediately. You've been numbed inert by depression and hopelessness and you need to tackle that before you'll be able to muster up the strength to do any sort of heavy lifting.

Once you do that, you have two choices:

#1: Convince your husband to get some couples therapy with you. If, as you say, you do still love him, why not try to salvage your relationship? Because he's changed from the brandy new, I-can't-stand-next-to-you-for-two-minutes-without-wanting-to-reach-out-and-grab-your-meat man of your dreams after four years of marriage? I'd be willing to bet that he's been leaving his dirty socks on the floor from day one - you just couldn't see the pile through your honeymoon goggles. The fact that he disregards your needs (and your children!) is not okay, and lord only knows what passive aggressive party he's throwing in his head. Having a third, uninvolved party in the room can make negotiating your problems with another person much easier. If you can drag his lazy ass to therapy, you may just be able to chip through his uncaring armor to find a viable husband beneath.

Or

#2: Unless you are the type of gal who relies on her man to provide her with oxygen, you actually can be without one. You can also lay off the fried food, move to a cheaper city with great schools, find a man who bends at the waist and can pick things up off the floor, quit complaining and stop acting like you're 99 years old. It may be hard, but how much worse can it be than living a life of quiet desperation in a filthy house? Aren't you pretty much doing everything by yourself already anyway? This whole "I can't," "I'm fat," "I'm lazy" garbage puts me in a deep sleep. People are capable of miraculous things, we've walked on the moon, cloned sheep - the drummer for Def Leppard only had one arm fer feck's sake! Heavy Metal drumming. One arm.

I do understand that what you're facing is hard and scary, I really do, but if you're at the point where you're reaching out for help, you're at the point where you can start changing things. So get ye to therapy, and either hunker down and work things out with Mr. Sloppypants, or get your kids a house in a cheaper part of the country complete with a yard, good schools, a happy, healthy mom and a step dad who doesn't treat them like furniture.

Living In Sin: Straight From the Groin

Dear Jen:
I'm a twenty-six-year-old lesbian who has a feckin' huge crush on a straight girl -- the losing your appetite, writing stupid poetry, going-wobbly-at-the-knees-at-the-mere-sight-of-her kind of crush. She knows all about it (although I don't know if she knows how serious I am), and we laugh about it even though it's a little awkward.

Recently she's been hinting that she wouldn't mind experimenting with me, even though she's pretty sure that she's not attracted to me emotionally and might just be in it for the sex. I'm totally lost. I'd love to sleep with her, but I also have an annoying tendency to attach to the people who share my bed, and I'm afraid that if we had sex, I'd fall (more) in love with her and things would become a real mess. Meanwhile, the other half of my brain is screaming "Go for it!" because she makes me hotter than anyone I've ever known and I'd have to be a total idiot not to take what I can get. What should I do?
- Can't See Straight

Dear Straight,
Ain't life cruel? It's constantly wagging stuff in our faces like hot married people, Vicodin, fast cars, hot crazy people, corndogs, $700 shoes, casinos, cigarettes, two-for-one corndogs and countless other things that can provide a serious rush of instant gratification but which wind up costing us dearly down the road.

This morning my cat woke me up at 5:45 with his "gotta poop, gotta poop right now" little circle dance that he does on my chest when he needs to be let out/scare the hell out of me (I'd rather be jumped in my sleep than have a litterbox, you see.) I'd had a pretty late night, but when I opened the door and saw the full moon still high in the sky and that golden, other-worldly light from the sunrise starting to take over I so wanted to go out in it. But I was really really tired, a little hungy wungy and it was chilly out there. Luckily, not only did I have very little time to negotiate with the come-hitherings of my bed due to the quickly rising sun, but all my clothes from the night before were conveniently laid out on the floor so all I had to do was put them back on. Which I did. And I soon found myself on my bike, riding alongside an ocean that looked like it was on another planet with a big, cheese-eatin grin on my face.

For me, this is Thrillsville, yet I can count on one hand the number of times I've dragged my ass out of bed early enough to do this. Which brings me to the topic of self-discipline. I feel like self-discipline has a torturous, fun-free, anti beer-for-breakfast type of reputation. Meanwhile, every time you practice it you're basically doing something good for yourself. You are a disciple of yourself, if I may be so bold. You love your own flowing robes and will do whatever it takes to support and honor your journey through this life. I'm still gonna have a Bud with my cereal every once in a while, but I know the more I do what makes me happiest and healthiest, the better off I'll be.

I salute you for admitting that if you sleep with this chick you're setting yourself up for months, maybe even years, of torture, depending on how hot she thinks the sex is. Especially when it's so tempting to pretend you could handle it. But remember, they're called "crushes" for a reason. If you want to live through this one without getting totally flattened, I suggest you start limiting your hang time, refrain from drinking alcohol in her presence and date as many hot lesbians as you can get your hands on. Immediately. But it's really up to you. You have to decide if the thrill of nailing the object of your desire outweighs the straight-girl "I'm Into You, I'm Into You Not" back and forths you'll no doubt be setting yourself up for fer fek only knows how long. Yes, there is that chance that once she gets a taste she'll trade in her straight ways for more curvacious ones, but she doesn't sound as open to that idea as I'd like her to be. I say forgo the corndog and have a salad. It's not as tasty in the moment, but you won't be doubled over in pain down the road. May the force be with you! I'monna go pick my clothes up off the floor now....