Dear Dategirl,

Recently, I walked up to a bus stop in the U District and saw a gal. She's the kind of gal that makes

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Who's the boss?

Dear Dategirl,

Recently, I walked up to a bus stop in the U District and saw a gal. She's the kind of gal that makes a guy catch his breath and feel kinda funny down there. Well, I had noticed her before, some time ago, and had felt the same rush of wanting. At any rate, I didn't speak to her then, and even though I wanted to (or at least my fellow wanted to), I didn't approach her this time either. I did, however, sneak a peek once in a while. Damn those animal instincts to attack!

You may be wondering why I didn't. It's quite simple: I'm engaged to be married. If you've ever seen the film High Fidelity, you know what I'm talking about. I'm referring to the fantasy of being with that gal, that very girl who taunts your fellow. You may in some way think that your present relationship has become boring, but if you listen to your fellow and move in for the attack, you might just be ruining the best thing that ever happened to you.

Imagine, if you follow through, that your fellow finds itself deeply satisfied, and then your fellow is tired but temporarily happy. The question is were you completely satisfied? It may not have even been the kind of sex you were imagining. And sakes alive, we've all experienced bad sex from time to time. Furthermore, if you were stupid and failed to place a helmet on your fellow, you may just as well have given your fellow something worse. And that's baaad! Finally, you live with the guilt of knowing what you did. Was all this worth it?

In my present situation, absolutely not. Some may wonder why I was even thinking of this girl much less even looking at her if I'm so happy. Tough question to answer without sounding like a hypocrite. For now, however, I'll blame it on my stupid-ass fellow who thinks he has control. Simply put, I'm happy, in love, and I'm not interested in the fantasy anymore. This may not be a question, but I felt like writing this.

Monogamous Mike & His Member

Hey, boys!

Thanks so much for your enlightening letter, and ain't that the truth! The Twins—Stella and Mitzi—are always causing me trouble along those lines. There I'll be, sitting on the bus, innocently perusing the business section, when suddenly out of nowhere Stella perks up and jolts me in the direction of some handsome commuter I hadn't even noticed. The friskier of the two (it's usually the left one!), Stella will do her damnedest to get me to ditch the current events and go chat this stranger up. And boy, is she hardheaded, if you catch my drift! So then I'm forced to coax her back into her cup—not the easiest thing to do on public transport—and remind her that she is my breast, not my boss.

It doesn't help matters that the two of them have completely different taste in men. Mitzi likes swarthy, brooding bony types who look like they could do with a scrubbing and a meal, while Stella prefers a more clean-cut collegiate type. You should see me at parties: I'm constantly being jerked in different directions. "No Mitzi, I am not going to sidle up to that bass player. He may be cute, but he's picking his nose."

Lucky for me, I'm once again a single gal on the go so I don't have to deal with the infidelity issue, but I can see where that might be a biiig problem! What to do with body parts that just won't behave?! It's simple: You just have to show them who's in charge. Because my gals have wills of steel, I've been forced to encase my modest B cups in foundation garments that could probably restrain a pair of rabid rutting bunnies. I suggest you purchase a suitable pair of heavy-duty trouser snake restraints.

There is nothing wrong with finding other people attractive when you're in love. You're not dead from the waist down just because you're in a monogamous relationship, but you're a dumbass if you listen to any organs other than your brain and heart. I've noticed that the guys I think hottest right off the bat turn out to be the biggest assholes, and I often find myself wishing I'd just kept their faces on file for fodder when me and the G-2 Mini-Massager are going at it. Then I don't have to try to forget their droning on about Charles Bukowski or (far worse) their hackneyed attempts at poetry. Another thing you might consider is that, believe it or not, your fianc饠is probably struggling with the same demons you, your fellow, Mitzi, Stella, and I are. Down, boy!

Standing at attention? At ease? Write dategirl@seattleweekly.com or Dategirl, c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste 300, Seattle, WA 98104.

 
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