Johnny, Are You Queer?

Then why share Chap Stick?

For the last four months or so, I've been dating a guy who recently separated from his wife and then moved to another state for work and so he could be closer to his best friend.

The problem isn't the wife, or the fact that he now lives 3,000+ miles away from me, but it's his best friend; a guy who he can't seem to be away from for more than five minutes. They're both in their thirties, outdoorsy and do everything—every single day—together. From working to going out to bars; even sharing each other's Chap Stick! It's rare that I talk to him on the phone when his friend isn't sitting right there, at which time my guy will sound distant.

I've never known two men that are this attached to each other without romance being involved. Should I suspect that these two might have a little Brokeback Mountain thing going on, or is this normal?

—e

I have no way of knowing if your boyfriend is gay, but this relationship is definitely not normal, even if they are sleeping together. Especially the part where they share the same Chap Stick. (Um, gross!)

The other night I was enjoying some Japanese food with my friend Francesca and discussing our various relationship woes; her woes being much worse than mine as she just broke up with her long-term boyfriend.

At one point she told me about an obnoxious thing the now-ex did when they first started dating. "I should've known then," she said sadly. I nodded and agreed that the behavior in question was an obvious red flag and should've prepared her for the dolt he'd eventually show himself to be. For a split second I wondered how such a smart girl could've ignored such an obvious sign of asshole-itude to come.

I quickly checked myself. The thing is, I've never dated anyone without a few red flags—including my current boyfriend. In fact, some of them have been so obscured by screaming crimson bits of fabric, you could barely make out their faces! (In a purely metaphorical sense, of course.)

My point is that sometimes there's a sign that comes early on in a relationship (and four months is early) that tells you perhaps this person isn't the one for you. Some of these warnings are easy to overlook—maybe he drinks too much at parties or is bad with money. You tell yourself, hey, sometimes I get drunk, and the only IRA I'm acquainted with is the one over in Ireland—and that's only because of that cute Irish bartender . . . 

Not that you should ignore them, but these are issues that are easy to rationalize and push out of your mind because you're having great sex and he's so nice to your mom.

Your situation is completely different though. Your man is still married to someone else, lives on the opposite end of the country, and is overly attached to his BFF, with whom he may or may not be wrestling naked. Any of these on their own would be enough to give a gal pause, but combined? Stop. Collect your toys and go home.

Even putting aside the Potentially Special Naked Friend, this is a no-win situation for you for one big fat reason: You're not even getting laid! What is it with this recent spate of sexually deprived people writing to me—it's spring! You're supposed to be rutting like rabbits out there!

Oh, lord, the indignity of it all.

I fail to see what you're getting out of this relationship, besides a hefty long-distance bill. It'd be one thing if you'd been together for years, or if his job was a temporary thing or if he wasn't married to someone else!!!!!

So I did you the favor of running an unscientific cost/benefit analysis on your relationship. By crunching numbers both real and fabricated, I've determined that you're hopelessly mired in the red. What I prescribe is that you terminate this sad and lonely excuse for a relationship and find yourself a new one. No blubbering about how lovely he is; the longer you stay with him the more miserable you'll become. You've only invested four months—120 days—in this futile cause. Get out while the gittin's good. Save yourself!

Sharing lip balm? Write Dategirl at dategirl@seattleweekly.com or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western Ave., Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.

 
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