Christy Fantz has relationship advice and she’s not afraid to dish it out. Send your questions to firstname.lastname@example.org .
I have a little crush on a bartender at my local watering hole. He goes out of his way to chat with me, and doesn’t pay that kind of attention to my friends. Maybe he’s just nice because I’m paying his rent. It seems unwise to hit on him because if it backfires, I have to find a new bar. But it also seems lame to wait — since maybe he can’t hit on me while he’s working. WTF should I do? I’d just move on, but this guy seems to have the hang of washing himself regularly and he can read.
–Tears in My Beer
Reading and washing are key. If he drinks and curses like a Fantz in Your Pants, then claw those paws into this gem.
Plus, he’s a bartender. Free drinks. What’s the quandary?
Right. New watering hole.
It appears he’s interested. So flirt.
(Sure, he could just be flirting because every time you get shitfaced, you tip him 53 percent. That’ll happen.)
The fact that he hits on solely you is a plus. (And hopefully ensues in a plus-sized extra-spicy beverage.)
Plan: Hit on him when you’re tanked.
If said plan spins awry, shake that hot ass back in there the next night — or morning, lush, just don’t stray from routine — and complain about an amnesiac roofie-filled evening.
Slate = clean.
Now he knows you have a crush on him. (True feelings slur freely when imbibing occurs.) But, he doesn’t know you know he knows. You know?
If the Fantz genius strategy works, it’s an inebriated match made in bar purgatory. Aw.
However, if he still acts awkward after the situation, bolt.
At least the bartender at your liver’s other living room washes his hair semi-frequently. Caution: I will not speak for his balls.
I am considering taking racy pictures for my boyfriend, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea. My job is kind of high-profile, and the pics I want to take are a little fetishy. My boyfriend has a thing for latex. I think there might be a way to take the pics tastefully, but I am wondering if I should even go there at all. How do I know what is the right thing to do?
I assume you haven’t read the recent literature on celebrity gossip?
Sex tapes? Nip slips? Blow-brimmed bathtubs?
I smell disaster. (It could be the wilted spinach in my lunch bag.)
If you cover your parts, I see no problem.
If you break up with him, worst scenario: He sells the pics to Westword. (You’re not that high-profile, lady.)
Said move will solely enhance that so-called fame. (Fantz: Note to self.)
Now, if your lady junk is flashing, abort mission. We don’t need to see that ungroomed shit.