Dear Dategirl,

Some time back, I wrote to you about my face-licking boyfriend. He’d taken to licking my face as a form of torture, citing it as his right. I was about to cite my right to leave him, but your response did the trick—he quit licking me. Though he was so enraged that I wrote to an advice columnist that he refused to read the article and hates you till this day.

I’ve got a new complaint. Somewhere along the way (we just passed the 3.5-year mark), he decided it was OK to pick his nose in front of me. It’s worst when we’re in the car. If he’s not trying to text-message while driving, then he’s mining for boogery gold. I gently mentioned to him that his constant nose-picking is killing my already weak sex drive. He flew into a rage, saying that “the two things have nothing to do with each other!!” I replied that the last person I want to get naked with is the guy with a fist up his nose. He accused me of looking for reasons to withhold. Am I nuts to want an iota of romance—from a guy with booger-free fingers?

The Gold Digger’s Wife

Though I don’t doubt that some freak somewhere finds the boogie-digit unspeakably hot, slimy, snotty fingers are not going to moisten most panties. And despite what your man mistakenly believes about the female sex drive, we ladies aren’t able to compartmentalize as efficiently as men seem to.

That said, a little yuck along the way seems inevitable. Along with the security and warm fuzziness a long-term relationship provides, there also often comes a slackening of certain codes of conduct. Like, for instance, I no longer hold in my gas to the point where my stomach starts to spasm. Since I’ve been known to let a few rip myself, I have to expect that my boyfriend will do the same, though he adds his own inimitable touch to the butt squeak: a little something I refer to as “the happy noise.” It’s a brief outburst—a joyous sort of sigh/giggle hybrid. It would be hypocritical to get mad at the gas; however, the happy noise is highly irritating. That he also does it after I cut one (thus alerting me to the fact that he heard!) might even be worse.

In addition to the happy noise, my man also does a nauseating hock-a-loogie. If you’ve ever dated a smoker, you know what I’m talking about, and in the interest of keeping my lunch down, I’m going to leave it at that.

I quizzed a few friends and found out we’re not alone. Ramona’s man started getting more “comfy” around the time they moved in together. “His latest thing is nose-picking,” she reports. “I beg him to do this in private. I tell him how it turns my stomach and to please not do it in front of me, but he says that he’s not in public, so it’s OK.” Dierdre’s husband skeeves her by walking around their apartment nude, save for a T-shirt that quits right before the rod and tackle, so she’s treated to a swinging nutsack over breakfast. Most every woman I spoke with bitched about her man’s massive gas attacks, but has grown to accept it as part of dating a dude.

However, we ladies aren’t always so ladylike, either. Kendra’s girlfriend no longer retreats to the bathroom when it’s ‘stache-bleaching time, while my friend Jennifer cheerfully reports, “I like to pluck my chin hair on the couch with a mirror because the light is good. I am an unrepentant nose-picker, and you will recall that [boyfriend’s name redacted] finally put his foot down about couch-flossing. I am also an unapologetic scab-picker, and when I am anxious, I pull out my eyelashes.” Oh.

Lest we forget, familiarity can also lead to discoveries of a more pleasant kind. My buddy Pedro just got back from a three-month trip with his sweet young thang, wherein he discovered that though she burped like a frat boy, she also had pretty much the same masturbatory habits. Pedro’s not complaining.

I suggest you make like Pedro and concentrate on your man’s good points. I’m sure he’s got plenty.*

*Blatant pandering to get back on his good side.

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