I am an affectionate person, but my boyfriend isn’t. I don’t like PDAs, but even at home he’s standoffish. I deal by getting upset and ignoring him.
What do I do?
— Needs a Hug
I’m a hugger.
Possibly to the point of pure acquaintance discomfort. Especially when I get that syrup in me. I get all kinds of squeezy. Oh, get over it. Your collective hearts leap when I hug you.
I grew up in a family that constantly embraced, slapped asses and pinched cheeks (both sets). If I could spoon the world, you bastards would be in trouble. And by trouble I mean damn fortunate.
Hence, I get it. You and I crave human flesh — a little groping or heavy petting. Um. Or just human touch.
But there are those who haven’t been exposed to this intimacy and it may make them ill at ease.
However, he’s your boyfriend, so that bastard must meet your desires, too.
Don’t be a brat about it. Talk to him.
Christy Fantz has relationship advice and she’s not afraid to dish it out. Send your questions to firstname.lastname@example.org .
Don’t you dare hide from me. I see you. Sitting a foot away from him on the couch. Arms folded. Legs crossed opposite him. Glaring at the flatscreen with hostility.
Back off, bitch. That’s my move.
Through time, I’ve learned that — contrary to popular* belief — boys aren’t superheroes. (Well, except for my dog Ezra. He’s from the future.)
Boys can’t see the crazy shit that swirls through our stunning, unhinged heads.
They don’t catch the “I’m hurt” signals. They just think we’re PMSing — which merely causes grounds for our super-sized fuming.
Have a chat and give him time to work up to snuggly. He won’t change overnight.
In the meantime, pacify with a Midol.
*Survey conducted by 43 popped-collared douchebags.
Holiday parties are approaching and I’m a desperate single girl in need of a date on my arm. What are your thoughts on finding love on Craigslist?
Let’s get one thing straight: The only thing you are “in need” of is a fifth of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes to get over your self-loathing.
Holy shit, somebody pass me an upper.
If you are so desperate for alien arm candy for the holidays… wait. I’ve been there. Last year.
Craigslist. Oh boy. I have friends who have found soulmates, life partners and best friends.
Me? Um. Right.
Here was my post seeking a plus one to a New Year’s Eve DeVotchKa show: “If you don’t like both DeVotchKa and whiskey, do not respond. If you send me a picture with your shirt off, deleted.”
I may have been tanked.
It was indeed an adventure. Let’s just say I’m glad I don’t have to do it again.
You should go for it. It’s free and you don’t have to meet them.
Advice: Demand a recent picture. If it looks scanned, it’s from the ’90s. The lying bastard is 12 years older than you think.
Christy Fantz’s Fantz In Your Pants runs every Thursday in the Colorado Daily.