Agony Aunt

I wish I could understand myself; I have two bad days and I think the world’s gonna end. I feel like there’s so little to tie me to anything – to a place, to people, to the past or the future – that when something comes to cut those strings, I just go floating off into space. Listen: I’ve no job, no desire for a job, few friends in my immediate vicinity, barely any possessions or memories, no real hobbies or things I do on a regular basis, and I live in the house of my girlfriend’s mum, and when my girlfriend and/or her mum act like they don’t like me, I realise just how unbounded I am, and I feel like the loneliest and most unloved person alive. Imagine if they were to say, we don’t want you here anymore. Suddenly I’d be a bloke alone with a bad full of things and nowhere to go; that would pretty much be that. Strange, innit?

Still, things could be worse. What about this guy here…

Dear Rory,

My lovely sexy girlfriend has suddenly stopped giving me blow jobs, I don’t know why. She used to be all for it, and made me feel so good, but it’s been months now and I just feel so unloved. I do loads for her, and she’s forever sticking my hands down her knickers, but I hardly get anything in return. What am I doing wrong? Has she gone off me? Or is she seeing someone else? I feel so desperately unhappy!

Yours, desperately unhappy,

Desperately Unhappy

Dear Desperately Unhappy,

Hm, that’s a tricky one, ‘cos usually I’d say that one’s girl goes off sex because of some problems in her own life, maybe stress at work, self-esteem issues – but if she’s still liking sex, just not doing things for you, then it must be something else. Are you clean? Do you take regular showers? If it’s not that, maybe she’s just selfish? Maybe she doesn’t really understand about give and take, just wants and doesn’t want to give. Or maybe now that she’s got you hooked she feels like she doesn’t have to do anything, and if she can get away with it, why not? Or perhaps she doesn’t really love you – I mean, if she did, surely she’d want to please you as much as you want to please her? Of course, I could be totally wrong about all of it…

Dear Rory,

I’ve been feeling lately that I’d like a new lover, and I’ve drawn up a list of things that I want. Please note, they’re not necessarily needs, just qualities that I prefer. Do have a read through and let me know if you feel you might be able to do a job for me; I’ve been reading your words and I sort of think you’re hot. Here’s what I’m after: someone who derives joy when someone else succeeds; someone who doesn’t play dirty when engaged in competition; someone who has a big intellectual capacity but knows that it alone does not equate wisdom; someone who sees everything as an illusion but enjoys it even though they are not of it; someone who is both masculine and feminine; someone who is politically aware; someone who doesn’t believe in capital punishment; someone who derives joy from diving in and seeing that loving someone can actually feel like freedom; someone funny, self-deprecating and adventurous, with many formed opinions; someone uninhibited in bed, who wants it more than three times a week, and up for being experimental; someone athletic; someone thriving in a job that helps their brother; someone not addicted, curious and communicative.

Do let me know.

Yours sincerely,

A.M., Toronto

Dear Alanis,

Many thanks for your flattering note. It is with great pleasure that I can confirm that I am able to fulfil – on a good day – seventeen of these twenty-one preferences, which I hope will more than suffice for your purpose. I should let you know, however, that on a bad day this figure drops to about eight or nine (and three of those are about sex). A more realistic number might therefore be somewhere in between, somewhere around the 60% mark. Will that do for you?

Regards,

Rory

Dear Rory,

I feel so all alone sometimes: I feel like I could just float away and nobody would care or give a damn, and I’d just be this bearded wandering tramp, and maybe that’s how all tramps started. Other times, though, I feel really trapped, that I can’t get away from the people or situation I’m in, and that I should but just don’t know how too; maybe I’m scared that I’ll lose them or they won’t want me back, so I just stick around even though I’m crying out for some breathing space, and even though I know that it’s making it worse by being here. Other times again I feel quite happy, like I’m the king of the goddamned world, one of the greatest people there ever was – though I’ve then got to wonder why nobody wants to be my friend. Sometimes I feel like the world is such a strange and scary and confusing place, and when I look around me I see others who don’t seem as nice or together or whatever, but who seem to be prospering, who have mates, who have the things that I don’t have and want. Other times I wish I was away from it all, because it seems like I’ll never ever make it work trying to be normal, trying to be materialistic and sociable and whatever. Sometimes I can’t think of a damned thing to say – and sometimes I can’t shut up. Sometimes I can be funny and happy and child-like. And sometimes I can be so serious and dour and dull and it bothers me so much I can barely stand myself. Sometimes I’m so lazy, and just can’t be arsed, and sometimes I just feel like crying all the time, but the tears don’t come and eventually I get better, and then I’m back to laughing and larking about again. Sometimes I’m such a disappointment to myself and I can’t stand the way I am, so critical and judgmental and scheming and bitter, and so inadequate when compared to the others I see around me. And then sometimes, like I said, I just think I’m totally awesome. I’m confused.

Can you shed some light?

Yours, bewilderingingly,

Jonty

Well Jonty, all I can say is: join the club. And, sheesh, I know just how you feel.

Dear Rory,

When I poo - and I do good, easy poos - I seem to have to wipe loads more than other people. Not that I really know how many wipes other people do. But I seem to do lots, and I don't think it's normal. Can you tell me what is normal? It usually takes me about twenty.

Frustratingly,

Shitty Arse

Dear Shitty Arse,

I do believe there's no such thing as normal. However, in your case, I'd recommend going to see a doctor.

Love,

Rory

Dear Rory,

I seem to have problems getting jealous over my girlfriend, who it turns out is a really trustworthy and decent type. Sure, she likes a flirt, and has her own 'father issues' that sort of keep her wanting stuff from guys, and maintains friendships with her exes, but having investigated all that she's come up roses - you know, reading her texts, spying on her emails, etc - so there's no real reason why it should bother me - but it still does. I'd love for it not to: it just seems to make me less pleasant and fun to be around, plus less happy than usual. Any advice?

Hand wringingingly yours,

Cecil

Dear Cecil - if that is your real name,

Do you have any history of being cheated on? If your girlfriend really is as honest and trustworthy as you've said then it's probably just your own fear and insecurity playing on your mind. You can tell her when you need reassurance, if it's that bad - but this might soon get old for her, and won't really take you anywhere. I'd recommend shutting up and trying to ignore the part of your mind that wants you to believe there's something to worry about. Plus, have some therapy or something.

Fondest regards,

Rory

Dear Rory, I'm bored.

Get a job.

Dear Rory, I'm putting on weight.

Do some exercise, play some sports - and stop eating things that are bad for you. Plus, don't sit around on your arse so much, ya lazy.

Dear Rory, I don't have any friends.

Join a club, do some volunteering, make an effort. Invite people to stuff. Tell people to invite you to stuff. Smile and listen and make them think you're a nice girl/guy. Have some fun. Also, adapting yourself so that you can easily fit in with and become one of the lowest common denominators is a really great way of ensuring that you'll never be alone for very long.

Dear Rory, I'm ugly.

Wait for your next birth.

Dear Rory, I'm well good looking.

Wait for your next birth.

Dear Rory, I don't have any money.

Yes you do.

Dear Rory, I think I'm addicted to tapping on a computer keyboard and staring at a screen; it's almost become a compulsion. It's strange but, in many ways it seems preferable to real life, to actual interaction with other humans. Is this a problem? Am I normal? And should I do something about it?

Yes, yes, and yes.