Has sex become a big fucking bore? Are you considering drastic measures to reinvigorate your libido as it suffers from pre-millennial stress? Lydia understands. You need an injection of Tough Love.
Dear Lydia,
I am a HPSPW - high-powered, successful professional woman. At my age, 38, I've seen almost every variety of romance -- from one night stands with punk gutter boys to grad school couplings who quoted Foucault in French while fucking, to my Harvard-lawyer-from-the-heartland ex. Two years ago I U-Hauled to San Francisco, and found profit toiling in various hope-to-IPO trenches. I had decided to renounce the Y chromosome forever, when lo and behold -- out of some foggy goth ether appeared an adorable, chubby Brit. The bomp has been fun, but now, frankly, I'm petrified. I make twice as much money as he does. He drinks like a pub-crawling fish. He doesn't even drive -- no less own a car!
One virtue: He's well-read. But how can I tell if this guy is sincere when he lays on the Rumi while rubbing my feet? I'd like to believe it, but I've seen too many middle-aged women throw themselves away on a loser in the hope of grabbing a few last pre-menopausal orgasms. And when it comes down to it, I'm looking for a life partner, someone who can pay their half of the mortgage -- not an aging boy toy. If he's not the one, is it better to crone it alone?
Signed,
Aelita
Dear Aelita,
What's to be petrified of? At 38, you're in your sexual prime. You've probably got a good 12 years left before menopause hits. So don't panic yet -- besides, KY is making a new vaginal lubricant for those untimely dry spells, just in case.
But you're answering your own questions here. What good is an aging boy toy when every city is littered with teenage hormones just bursting with the desire to satisfy your every salty need? Hire 'em by the hour -- in the long run it'll be cheaper and you won't have to wipe the pond scum off your sleeve as you watch an old fish drink itself to death.
So he quotes Rumi? So what? Sure it beats bragging about his Nintendo skills, but after two years of vague poetic ramblings -- and I quote "To change, a person must face the dragon of his appetites with another dragon" -- it's time to move on.
If your deepest desire is to find a financial equal -- good luck. Just because their wallets are deep doesn't mean their intellect is. In every relationship, there is some compromise. But in your present situation, it appears you're making the most of them. Kick the bum out and start hunting for a sugar daddy with a Masters in Fine Arts.
Dear Lydia,
My girlfriend complains my spunk tastes like mothballs. What's up with that?
Signed,
Furry Critter
Dear Critter,
In this day and age, she shouldn't be swallowing. And don't feed me any bullshit about the protein content of sperm. Play it safe. Try a mint-flavored condom. If you both foolishly insist on going at it bareback, try changing your diet. Eat more parsley, or try an edible flavored body rub, although I can't even imagine what could possibly compliment mothballs. Cedar?
Lydia Lunch is a confrontational media-manipulator who has explored and exploited the written and spoken word, music, film, video, theatre, photography and sculpture. She is notorious for practicing public psycho therapy for the past two decades in an attempt to dissect the origin of obsessions.