Miss Information

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Dear Miss Information,
I’m taking medication for depression and panic disorder and lately I’ve been having trouble getting erect. I haven’t told my girlfriend. She’s very into homeopathic medicine and would probably look down on me. I know it’s a mental illness and I shouldn’t be ashamed. Every time I go to tell her I lose my nerve. The other day she asked if I was cheating. Any advice? — It’s The Pills


Dear It’s The Pills,
Yes. Tell Sugar Magnolia Rainbow Tits that your dick doesn’t work because you’re on meds. Put the blame where it belongs — on the overpaid chemists at Pfizer — not your one-eyed buddy who’s been there for you for life.
There’s a certain amount of paranoia associated with being in a relationship with someone with ongoing dick problems. No matter how many times he says, "It’s not you, it’s me," you can’t help but wonder if you have really bad technique or your pussy is as roomy as two airplane hangars. Your girlfriend’s going to feel a certain degree of relief knowing that your performance issues aren’t directly related to her, and that they may, in fact, be curable.
On to the exact phrasing. I wouldn’t use the term "mental illness," even though depression qualifies as such, and so do panic attacks. The overwhelming feeling that something sinister is afoot at Kmart and you must now back out of line and abandon your cart full of tampons, bottled water, saline solution, and this really trashy-but-cute pair of earrings goes way beyond a bad mood. Anyone who’s ever had one knows it takes a little more than rose petal tincture to knock it out of the park.
However. I assume you hold down a job. You’re in a relationship. You own a computer. You know how to send an email. You haven’t sent me any pictures of your dog’s penis via cellphone. You’re a normal fucked-up guy with issues, like everybody else. So get over yourself and stop being so lame. Wait until you’re in a non-sexual situation, then tell her what’s up. Tell her what specific drug you are taking, what the side effects are, how long you’ve been on it, whether you’re seeing a shrink, and so on.
She’s probably going to want to know if you ever plan on getting off the drug or switching to one with different side effects. Legitimate questions. Just as you have a right not to feel cuckoopants, she has a right to want to be penetrated. Try to keep the conversation centered on problem-solving, not a political debate. Even if she does change your mind, don’t go making any major changes without consulting your doctor. Girlfriends are not shrinks. Unless they happen to be shrinks. In which case, well — that’s really convenient, isn’t it?


Dear Erin,
I am not your typical lovelorn case. At forty-eight and brimming with sexuality and good health, I still believe I will find that ever-elusive Mr. Right. I realize that at this point in my life, I may have to tone down my idealism and don reality glasses. So, with this in mind, I started dating a sweet, overweight man three-and-a-half years younger, who was recently widowed. He has more charm and soulfulness than all the men I’ve known put together. But he has sexual dysfunction issues brought on by his antidepressant. Although he has started exercising for the first time in his life, he is not very aggressive about his workout program, nor is he being proactive about his erection issues, both of which he knows bother me. He won’t see a therapist, as he says he’s dealt with the passing of his wife of twenty years. To compound matters, he also has two dogs who sleep in bed with him every night. I tried sleeping over once and had a bad asthma attack. I eat well, exercise, and care about my physical and mental well-being. Am I compromising too much? Does he care, or is he still in mourning, but in denial? He says every relationship has issues and these are not the worst.
Unhappy in Compromise Land

Dear Unhappy in Compromise Land,
"Care about your physical and mental well-being," huh? Well, one out of two ain’t bad. Reality glasses are great, UCL. I just got fitted for a pair of tri-anyone-without-an-active-warrant-focals myself. But what you’ve got here is a real fixer-upper — recently widowed, resistant to therapy, prone to equipment failure, keeps allergenic pets with boundary issues. If this guy were a house, he’d have a family of cobras in the foundation.
I’m sure he cares about you, but he’s really messed up. He probably will be — for a long, long time. It’s great he’s on crazy pills, but he should really be talking to a shrink. The fact that he’s not, and doesn’t feel he needs to, doesn’t give me a lot of hope.
I agree with your boyfriend. These are not the worst issues. But it doesn’t sound to me like you are interested in waiting around while this person grows and changes. And why would you? You haven’t known each other that long, you don’t have children, the sex is sub-par and you’re not living together or married.
There may be a guy that you’re willing to be Dr. Ruth/Freud/Mother Theresa for, and you’ll know when you find him. Keep looking. Your letter doesn’t read like someone who’s found her slightly imperfect Mr. Right, but rather someone who’s grown increasingly rigid, tired and frustrated. I’m not hearing a lot of empathy or positivity. Granted, that’s easy for me to say — I’m not covered in Irish Setter fur and sucking on an inhaler. Separate yourself as kindly as you can and find someone who’s in an emotional state more in line with yours, more capable of giving you what you need.

Dear Miss Information,
My wife and I are looking for some new ways to keep it interesting. We’re open to anything that doesn’t involve extra people. Ideas?

Go to the dollar store. Buy a couple economy-size bottles of baby oil and several of those cheapo shower curtains. Strip down, put on some theme music, and turn your bedroom into an amateur wrestling arena.
Readers, want to try and top this? Feedback is now open for any and all kinky suggestions.


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