Dear Coquette,

My college friends have stayed close over 10 years and we’re a solid bunch. We look out for each other. We call each other out on our bullshit. Your blog has seriously influenced half the time we’ve known each other. We’re all 32 or 33.

One of our number (we’ll call him Jim) is planning to move in with a newish girlfriend. She’s 25 but acts much, much younger. When I first met her my gut said “not today, Satan” but I persevered in being warm, welcoming and inclusive.

But now the red flags are popping up and I don’t know how to respond to her behavior or be a good friend to Jim.

After introducing herself to people as ‘a bit of a princess’ she has:

– Screamed at us. And him. A lot.
– Faked seizures and other conditions when she isn’t the centre of attention.
– Quit her job. (He’s footing the bill.)
– Cried during games. (Cards Against Humanity was messy)
– Shown an apparent lack of friends.
– Read his Facebook messages.
– Announced that they’re getting a dog. (Better than a baby, I guess)

We’re planning a big getaway as a group and she is bound to come and make a scene.

Have you ever had someone like this in your midst and is there a way we can support him without excusing her rude behavior? I’m worried if I stick my neck out I will be painted as a harpie.

Thank you in advance.

Ah, yes. Jim and Princess are very familiar to me.

I’ve had many sets of friends over the years, and inevitably there is always that one guy dating that one girl who everyone tolerates through gritted teeth. Usually she’s just an idiot or a bore, but every so often, she’s a walking red flag collection with a saucy mélange of Cluster B personality disorders. Those you should never take lightly.

In order to be a good friend to Jim, you first have to recognize that he’s blinded by the sheer intensity of the relationship. His senses are overwhelmed by chaos, fear, and the best sex he’s ever had in his life. He will likely mistake this condition for love, and it’s your duty as a friend not to reinforce that belief.

This may sound cruel, but the best way you can support Jim is to add to his suffering. Princess is his responsibility. Hold him accountable for her actions. Do not accept his apologies. Punish him for her behavior.

I know you’re worried that if you stick your neck out you’ll be painted as a harpie, but trust me, Princess is counting on you to keep your mouth shut. Fuck that. If she’s truly as awful as you make her out to be, then everyone else is sick of her shit too.

Broach the topic with your friends. Form alliances. Keep Jim’s best interests at heart, but also set some boundaries. Agree that when Princess makes a scene, he will be ordered to remove her. If she acts inappropriately, they will both be called out. Let it be clear that she is no longer welcome to ruin everyone else’s good time.

You can soften the blow by letting Jim know ahead of time that you’re done putting up with her flavor of crazy. It helps to have a group consensus, and it’s most effective if performed in the style of a classic intervention. (You know, sit him down and give him the whole “we’re here because we love you, but this behavior is unacceptable and will no longer be tolerated” speech.)

These may seem like drastic measures, but I assure you, nothing else will work. The only other solution is to hold your breath and stay miserable until the relationship implodes upon its own chaos.

Bear in mind that it’s possible to lose Jim during this process. I’ve had to let go a few of my close friends because of their poor choice of partners, but I don’t think that will happen to you. As you say, you’re a solid bunch. You look out for each other. You call each other out on your bullshit. If that’s the case, Jim will eventually come around.

In the meantime, no one else should suffer Princess but him.

I’m 26, she’s 46. We’ve known each other for several years. I asked her out a month ago pretty convinced she’d turn me down on principle, but instead she said yes and it’s been amazing (loving, supportive, attentive…). But..I think both of us are feeling like we’re taking advantage of the other one. Her as the older, “should know better/I’m getting the better deal” standpoint, and me from the “I have a whole life of other options and the ability to get away if things go south” standpoint. Maybe they’re not relationship-ruining concerns, but at least for me, I have a fairly constant fear of eventually breaking her heart and then disappearing. I guess I’m asking if we are doomed, or if I should just accept that things could always end and I should enjoy the ride.

No, no. Don’t accept that things could always end. Accept that things will always end. Embrace the inevitability. That’s the only way you’ll ever truly enjoy the ride.

(This applies to everything in your life, not just your doomed relationship.)

I used to think you were a bad bitch, but now that we’ve both gotten older and wiser I’ve come to realize you’re just a brat. Kudos on the persona you’ve managed to project, it works on the right people.

I was most definitely a brat. No question about it. Thing is, I can forgive myself for being a brat, and in another seven years, I’ll be able to forgive myself for whatever shortcomings I have today.

Now it’s your turn. Forgive the part of yourself that used to think I was a bad bitch. After all, that’s what this is really about. You may be older and wiser, but you still resent the person you used to be.

Let go of that person and forgive yourself. You were doing the best you could with the knowledge you had at the time. We all were.

Well Coke, my brother relapsed. I wrote you two months ago saying my family was giving me hell because I hadn’t yet embraced him in his recovery. Four days ago, he got his 6 month sobriety chip. Yesterday, his roommate found him with a needle in his arm and he was intermittently breathing. I found out while I was at work and cried in front of most of my coworkers, more out of frustration than actual sadness. I think. I don’t know.

I saw him in the hospital room through the door. We made eye contact and he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, as if to say “What are you gonna do? Addicts are going to relapse.” This was the first time since October 2015 that I’ve physically laid eyes on him. I hugged my dad while he cried. My brother fell asleep when I looked at him again.

I don’t know if I have a question, Coke. I’m just so…unsurprised? Frustrated? Disappointed? Mad? My friend at work gave me a hug and reminded me that addiction is a disease, but that just enraged me more. That has always seemed like such a fucking cop-out to me. Plenty of people do drugs (I sure did) and fucking stop. So why can’t he? Why does this keep happening? Why couldn’t he have just died this time and we wouldn’t have to go through this hell yet again?

Yes, I remember what you told me in your first letter. Addiction may be a disease, but your brother is a piece of shit. He really is.

I’m sorry that he’s causing you and everyone in your family so much pain. It’s okay to wish that pain would stop, and I understand why you think his death is the only way it would.

Be careful with that, though. His addiction could very easily end up killing him, especially if his new pattern becomes relapsing after several months of sobriety. (It’s a lot easier to overdose during a relapse.) If he does die, it won’t be what you’re hoping it will be.

That being said, it’s okay if he’s dead to you. When I wrote you back the first time, I told you that you didn’t have to forgive him.

You never do.

I got raped, and ever since I’ve been turned on by rape porn. The realer the better. Never fantasizing about it happening to me, but suddenly into watching it happen to others. WTF is up with that? It feels super fucked up- and I feel really, really guilty for liking it (especially because I know how horrible it feels).

Okay, here’s what’s up with the rape porn:

First, it gets you off. (After all, porn is porn.)

Second, watching rape porn normalizes your trauma and helps you process your emotions and regulate your anxiety. What you’re doing is essentially a form of self-administered exposure therapy.

Third, this pattern of behavior offers you a convenient way to blame yourself for your own rape. Everyone keeps telling you that being raped isn’t your fault, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have all sorts of complicated emotions about being raped, not the least of which are guilt and shame. You have some feelings about your rape that you don’t think you’re allowed to feel, and you’re using the porn as an outlet. In other words, watching rape porn lets you feel guilty without feeling guilty about feeling guilty. (Like I said, it’s complicated.)

Don’t worry. There will come a day when watching rape porn doesn’t do anything for you, because eventually, you’re gonna forgive yourself — not just for liking rape porn, but for all that other dark, sticky stuff you’re feeling too.

In the meantime, try not to be too hard on yourself. Healing is a fucked-up, messy process. You’re getting it done in your own way, and that’s perfectly acceptable.

You answered my question months ago (existential FOMO), and it was incredibly helpful, but something has recently changed in my relationship. I’m planning on moving to the other side of the country, and my boyfriend wants to come with me. I really want him to come, but he has the expectation that we will “probably” get married in a few years. He also let slip that he would get married tomorrow if I wanted to. Even though I don’t want to break up with him, I still can’t see myself marrying him. I’m completely torn up over this- I’m bawling my eyes out every day- but I don’t want to lead him on, or make him uproot his entire life for me if I can’t live up to his expectations. I’ve also never been single in my adult life, or with anyone else, and the idea of starting completely over is scary, but appealing. I haven’t talked to him about this yet because I think I should make a decision first. How can I decide if it’s over?

You’re not deciding whether it’s over. You’re deciding whether to end it. There’s a subtle difference, but you need to understand it.

Deciding whether it’s over is a passive process of realization. It requires that you come to terms with an inevitability. Deciding whether to end it is an active process of determination. It requires that you come to terms with a choice.

For you, this is a choice that requires determination, not an inevitability that requires realization.

You’ve been with this guy for over half a decade, and you’ve said repeatedly that you can’t see yourself marrying him. It’s obvious that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with this guy, yet he clearly expects to marry you. That understandably freaks you the fuck out, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, deep down you know that this cross-country move is your last best chance to parachute out of this relationship before you wake up a bored housewife in your mid-thirties still wondering about all that strange dick you never had.

If I can take the hint, then you can too. Trust me, this move is happening for more reasons than you think it is. It may not have been deliberate. It may not even have been conscious, but there’s a part of you that desperately wants out of this relationship, and that part of you is strong enough to have manifested a move to the other side of the country.

Thing is, you have to actually make the choice. You have to say it in your head. You have to say it out loud, and then finally you have to say it to his face, “We’re done. Our relationship was wonderful, but it’s over now. It’s time to move on to the next chapter in our lives, and it’s best for both of us that we aren’t together.”

You have to make the choice. You. Not him. Not me. You, and no one else. You also have to live with the consequences. Either way, it will be difficult. Either way, you will be lonely. Either way, you will never know whether you made the right decision.

Still, you have to make the choice.

My best friend is a lesbian. I’m a bisexual female in a heterosexual relationship. I got really drunk the other night with my best friend and we cuddled together in our underwear. There was this strange moment where she kind of held my hand. I’ve cuddled with other friends before so I’m trying to validate myself with that. Is this cheating?

It’s not for me to say whether it was cheating. That’s up to you and your romantic partners to decide. You’re the ones who should define the terms of your relationship.

Obviously, your drunken cuddling was in what you consider to be a grey area, and somewhere in all that grey, there is a line that you can’t quite see. The problem with not being able to see it is that you can’t know whether you crossed it.

I’m willing to bet that if you two had swapped any fluids, you probably would have been sure that it was cheating. Instead, there was a strange moment of hand holding. It was intimate, and it was loving, but she’s also your best friend. You can be intimate and loving with your best friend without it being sexual or romantic, regardless of either of your sexual orientations.

Was it sexual or romantic, though? Can you say for sure? And even if it was, would your boyfriend consider that infidelity? Again, there’s so much grey area.

Perhaps you should talk to your boyfriend about it. Find out how he feels. Hell, just telling your story might help firm up your own thoughts about how you feel yourself. This is one of those times where a healthy, open, and mature conversation could go a long way in strengthening your relationship.

In light of the baby name discussion–what are your thoughts on baby names with no link to the parent(s)’s cultural/linguistic background? Like, is a white, non-Hindu couple naming their white, non-Hindu baby Krishna (because they like the name, the meaning, etc.) crossing a cultural appropriation line?

I know all you social justice warriors have been trained to salivate at the slightest whiff of cultural appropriation, but please, have some chill.

Not all cultural appropriation is bad. Some of it’s just worthy of a shoulder shrug, and some of it is actually good. There’s a trick here that I want you all to learn, and it involves a deep understanding of context. It requires that you analyze cultural appropriation from a situation based rather than a rules based perspective.

There are instances where a white, non-Hindu couple naming their white, non-Hindu baby Krishna isn’t as culturally appropriative as you might think. They could be Buddhist or Bahai, or if they’re Californians with super hippy parents, Krishna could very easily be a family name. Again, context is key.

Of course, they could also be thoughtless white trash fruitcakes with no personal connection to the name Krishna who simply couldn’t decide between Kesha and Kristy, so they decided to split the difference.

Odds are, a couple like the one you’re describing fall somewhere in the middle of this culturally appropriative spectrum. Maybe they’re assholes. Maybe they’re not. You have to look at each situation and make that call rather than apply a hard and fast set of rules.

Sometimes it’s easy. All those ignorant dirt squirrels who still wear native headdresses to Coachella are privileged little shits showing blatant disrespect for a culture that suffered a forgotten genocide. They’re fair game. The various on-stage appropriations of African-American and Asian culture by Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry are also fair game. That shit is exploitation, pure and simple.

Then again, sometimes it’s hard. I recently had a woman write to me privately about a dress she wanted to buy that was made in Nigeria and featured a fabric with a bold African print. She literally wanted me to give her permission to buy the dress for fear she was being culturally appropriate. I told her to chill, that yes, it was a skirt from Africa, but that it wasn’t traditional African dress. (I also fell in love with this piece from the same designer.) I mean, come on you guys. Blending of cultures is often a good thing, and that’s clearly one of those times.

When it comes to cultural appropriation, analyze the situation. Look for willful ignorance, thoughtless disrespect, or exploitation for profit. Those are the litmus tests for the ugly stuff that deserves to be called out. On the other hand, if what you’re seeing is a blending of cultures based on understanding, respect, and mutual benefit, then get your ‘one love’ on and let that shit go.

He broke our engagement, then moved her in and gave her my ring. They’re very happy together. I moved cities, got a masters and a bangin job, but my romantic life has been in shambles ever since. How do I let the past go and tell my biological clock to shut the fuck up?

It wasn’t your fucking ring. Say it with me now, “It wasn’t my fucking ring.” Say it again, “IT WASN’T MY FUCKING RING.” Keep saying it over and over until you realize that she and that ring have nothing to do with you whatsoever.

You got your heart broken. Big fucking deal. It was years ago, and he was obviously a douchebag. Still, it’s not his fault that your romantic life is a shambles. It’s yours. You’re a wallowing wallower who likes to wallow. Get your shit together and quit being so pathetic.

This guy isn’t the one who got away. He’s just an ex who treated you like shit and dumped you for another woman. Fuck ’em both. While you’re at it, quit writing happy endings that don’t exist. They’re not all that blissful together. They’ve just got an Instagram account, and you can’t see past the filters.

Trust me, they’re just another boring couple who haven’t had sex in weeks and are tired of smelling each other’s farts, and I’d bet a thousand dollars right now that at least one of them (probably both) has cheated on the other.

Fuck letting go of the past. You need to let go of these two in the present. Delete, delete, delete. There is no reason you should have the slightest clue what’s going on in their lives. Unfriend, unfollow, and block. Make it so he won’t even know how to reach you when they get divorced. (That’ll happen in 2019, by the way.)

In the meantime, move the fuck on. Leave your biological clock out of it. You’re not that old. (I can tell.) You’ve just got a mother who likes to remind you that she was younger than you are now when she had you. (I can also tell.)

Enough with the bitterness already. No more wallowing. Fuck the past, and fuck your consistently shitty romantic choices. Get it together, woman. You can do better than this.

What should we name our son? He’s due in August, we like classic names that aren’t too common. We just can’t settle on one and I think you’d be great at this.

Off the top of my head, I’m feeling Gabriel, Rowan, Oliver, or Winston. If I think of more names that I like, I’ll let you know.

(Everyone feel free to jump into the comments section with your suggestions. Let’s name this little dude.)