What would you say to someone who told you that a thing could be true and not true at the same time?

Yes, context is everything, and this question is as broad as the sword the next guy on the street keeps in his pants (just ask him), but let’s assume we’re talking on a bit grander scale than the ex who tried to back-paddle out of a premature “I love you.” Give me some premium-grade existential shit.

I’d say buy me a drink, because after a contradiction like that, anything goes.

(There are ten people on the planet who will get a joke that obscure, but fuck it. I’m home for Thanksgiving and bored out of my skull. This is what sobriety and insomnia does to me. As for whoever sent the question, I encourage that kind of ridiculousness for the next seventy-two hours.)

Mike Rowe or Ben Bailey?

Dirty Jobs or Cash Cab? Really? Even if I let those two double team me, I doubt they’d keep my interest after the first commercial break.

That square-jawed “Aw shucks, ma’am” likability is great for hosting The Discovery Channel, but trust me, sex with on-air talent gets really fucking boring unless you’re in a room full of mirrors.

On the other hand, Mike Rowe strikes me as an old-school pussy hound, and after some of the shit I’ve seen him do on Dirty Jobs, he might be the type who really puts the spit shine on your junk.

I guess I’ll go with Mike. Still, it’d be a little too much like doing one of my dad’s friends. You know, the good looking one that sells cars or some shit.

So I’ve got a mad crush on this girl who lives on my hall. We’ve been hanging out and stuff, probably to the point where she thinks I’m just her friend. And I’m bad at picking up signals, but I get the feeling that there could be something here. (This is coming from a guy with zero, zero, zero experience. But I’ve already complained about that for years. It’s time to make a change.)

We went to Harry Potter last night and blazed together. Unfortunently we were with a bigger group as well of mostly her friends so I couldn’t try anything. That sounds stupid to me because I have no idea what I’d ‘try’.

So what’s the best option for me right now as far as making the next move? Remember…I am a total loser who hasn’t had any experience with girls and somehow I made it to college a virgin, because I’m that cool. I’m not solely out for sex, though; I like her.

Dude. You’re fucking precious. I just wanna tussle your hair and pinch your cheeks and shit.

Listen up, this isn’t about “trying” anything. Don’t make this about your virginity. Nobody gives a fuck about your lack of experience except for you, and trust me, you’re surrounded by virgins.

I can’t tell you how to make a move here, kid. That shit is on you. Accept your vulnerability, accept the possibility of rejection, and then just be brave and fucking do it. Making a move is an organic, in-the-moment kinda thing, but I will say this, if you think there’s a romantic spark between you and this girl, you’re the one who’s gonna have to acknowledge it.

Be sweet about it. Be honest. Use whatever words or actions that come to you naturally in that moment of bravery, but the gist of it doesn’t have to be any more complicated than, “Hey, I like you, and I think you like me too. Here we go!”

Do it with a kiss. Do it with your own words. However you do it, get it fucking done. Don’t worry about what happens next. For better or worse, the heat of that moment will become self sustaining once you get it started, unless of course you fuck it up by overthinking shit.

Whatever. You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do.

Tell you what, though, you’re not a total loser. That much is for sure. You just need to get out of your own head. Quit complaining, and savor the experience you’re about to have.

Learning this shit is ten times more exciting than already knowing how to do it.

Fucking enjoy yourself.

My professor said something to the effect of “women are easy to pick on because they’re weaker” in class the other day. He didn’t qualify it to be within the context of the movie we were talking about. Am I a FemiNazi if I call him on that shit?

No, but you shouldn’t necessarily rise to the bait. A line like that from a male professor could easily be a setup.

He talks a little shit, waits for an emotional response from one of his female students, and then hammers her with whatever agenda he’s got in his back pocket. It’s a dick move, but professors prove points like that all the time.

I don’t know if that’s the case here, but generally speaking, calling someone on his shit requires a little strategy. Remember, whoever has something to prove in the argument is always the one at a disadvantage.

Don’t be the one with something to prove. Don’t be on the defense. The best way to do that is just turn his statement into a question and send it back to him so that he’s the one that has to prove it.

Get Socratic on his ass.

The first woman I’ve had actual feelings for in a very long time—many sex partners between—seems mutually interested in me. Her male best friend who she had me meet after a few dates, or he forced an interview, seems like a closet poof or ball-lessly into her and hasn’t made a move in years. I honestly like this girl and would like to get to know her for a while and maybe form a serious relationship with her. The male best friend seems to be either be emotionally cock-blocking me or wants to keep her as a beard. What do I do? Say fuck it and pull some creepy type 80’s romance shit to tip the scales, walk away or explain what I think they both may not see as the truth?

Huh. So, your options as you see them are to either be a douche, a coward, or a wedge. How about none of the above?

Skip the cheeseball romance. It’s an act. It’s bullshit. You’d be doing it for all the wrong reasons anyway. Don’t walk away either. Running for the hills when you’ve got actual feeling is a recipe for regret. As for the “explain what I think they both may not see as the truth” maneuver, that’s just awkward manipulation that’s bound to blow up in your face. Here, lemme break it down for you.

The sexual orientation of the male best friend is immaterial, and quite frankly, none of your damn business. Regardless of his motives, he perceives you as a threat, and he’s got his eye on you for good reason.

If his motives are pure and he’s just looking out for the best interests of his favorite girl, then he’s gonna make sure you aren’t a douchebag. What you interpret as emotional cock-blocking is either an integrity test or evidence that he’s already deemed you unworthy. If his motives are selfish and he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, then the emotional cock-blocking is exactly that. Either way, you gain nothing by confronting them and trying to wedge the relationship. If you’re wrong, you lose. If you’re right, you’ve shown your hand, and he easily outflanks you.

Here’s the thing. Just because he perceives you as a threat, that doesn’t mean you have to engage him as one. In fact, that’s the true position of strength. Come at him with legitimate respect.

I know that will be hard for you, because in all honesty, you sound like a bit of an asshole. Trust me though, treating him like a brother will win the day. This is about courtship after all, and part of winning a girl over is making an effort to get to know her friends.

If his motives are pure, your respect will in turn earn his. If his motives are selfish, the respect gives him no ammunition and leaves him toothless.

He’s the friend. You’re the romantic interest. Never forget that. He is no threat to you as long as you don’t treat him as one.

In the meantime, just do your thing. Actually, no. You strike me as the type who’s been kind of a dick in the past. Be good to this girl. Treat her better than the others, okay?

i’ve spent a lot of my day thinking about what i want to say about this, since i saw it on my dash earlier.

here is where this argument goes spectacularly, blindingly, gloriously flamingly wrong:

words are actions.

there is no such thing as the thought police in the real world, because nobody can possibly know what you’re thinking, or control it. in fact, i’m a big proponent of not condemning people for what’s inside their head; my thoughts are pretty fucking impure and judgmental a lot of the time.

where you go wrong is when you open your mouth and turn your hurtful thoughts into words.

using the word “retard” to mean stupid or bad or wrong is A SLUR. there is no way around it. you are equating a word that means “a person with mental handicaps” with “something that sucks.” if you take away the idea that a mentally disabled person is stupid, the word simply has no punch: it relies on this assumption, however buried.

and when you use it so casually, someone else comes along and reads it and unconsciously absorbs it into the acceptable vocabulary of their world, too. and then they casually repeat it again later, in part because they saw you use it and it was okay. and then it’s repeated again. and again. it becomes part of our lexicon as a culture by insidious, subtle, unthinking repetition. nobody thinks that “my words rang forth across the internet, and now somewhere there’s a classroom full of special ed kids crying into their helmets because I used the word retarded.” that’s patently absurd.

and words like cunt, nigger, faggot, and retard do not have power when somebody who is not marginalized by them uses them to mean something negative. unless you are, respectively, a woman, a Black person, a queer person, or a mentally disabled person — AND USING THEM TO REFER TO YOURSELF ALONE — you are not giving these words power by using them. you are reinforcing the exact fucking reasons that they are harmful. you are part of the problem. you are actively working against the solution. i reject your claim that “not one of us cunts, niggers, faggots, or retards is ever above catching a little shit.” without identifying with these words and using them to self-identify, you are not part of the ‘us.’

hate speech can be insidious. it does not have to be somebody screaming at you on the street. it can be hearing someone casually call a guy a faggot just because they don’t like him. it can be hearing somebody call their friend retarded for making a small mistake. it’s hearing a word that refers to you used to insult somebody else.

you do not act in a vacuum. your words are powerful. they are your actions. and you may “know your heart” and you may be “putting pen to paper with a pure heart,” and guess what? that gay man still isn’t going to feel better because your intentions were pure. that mentally disabled person isn’t going to feel more accepted because you were fine with what you said.

fuck you too. fuck you right in the face.

You make a strong argument, quite noble in its intentions, and I respect you for being one of the few people to take the time to respond with such eloquence to what I knew would ultimately be a very controversial post.

In fact, I would right now at your request be fucking myself in the face if it weren’t for one very important thing:

Words are not actions.

It’s clear that you spectacularly, blindingly, gloriously, and flamingly disagree, but I must insist. Words are not actions. They are not even intentions. Words are merely symbols, ones that have no inherent meaning until they are imbued with definition by both the writer and her reader.

My point here isn’t to shift the argument from sociology to semiotics, not at all. It’s just that your entire argument is based on that simple premise, and I’m sorry, but you’ve built a castle on sand.

A lot of your anger and rage is based on the assumption that powerful and loaded words like nigger and faggot can only be used for harm unless they are being “taken back” by those they marginalize. I couldn’t disagree more.

That kind of thinking is short-sighted and self-limiting, and of course, it’s reinforced by your mistaken belief that words are actions when really they are beautiful and dangerous symbols with a rich history, a unique etymology, and a potential for poetry that people like you ignore for the sake of politics.

I’m not going to deny how inflammatory those words can be. Only an idiot would suggest that those words don’t come with the power to inflict a great deal of emotional damage, but come on, man. Fire is hot. Knives are sharp. A great many things in this world can inflict pain, but not all of us are arsonists and slashers. Some of us are just chefs at Benihana.

It’s not that I don’t understand where you’re coming from. You and those like you have been trained by every liberal arts professor from here to Boston to pounce on these hot-button words in the name of ending oppression. Shit, it’s practically a Pavlovian response, but the words themselves are not the problem. They are not the action. The underlying intent is what’s important. How and why was the symbol used? Did it inflict harm? Was it deliberate? Accidental? And of course, this is where things get sticky.

Now, did I get letters from people with mentally retarded siblings who were offended? Absolutely. Did I also get letters from people with mentally retarded siblings who were overwhelmed with joy that I finally put into words how they felt about this kind of shit? Quite a few more, actually.

That’s the sticky part, because who among us ultimately gets to determine what’s offensive?

Had I used the phrase “are you a fucking moron” instead of “are you fucking retarded,” no one would have said shit in the first place. Here’s the thing, though. Both of those words define the exact the same mental condition, and by your logic, both of them are therefore slurs. Clearly then, we live in a world where some words are deemed more acceptable than others.

So I ask you again, who gets to determine the acceptable vocabulary? This is where I draw my line in the sand. I refuse to allow anyone else to determine for me what is acceptable language. I won’t ever let anyone ban words. Call it the thought police. Call it private censorship. Call it whatever you like, but nobody gets to chip away at my lexicon.

Everyone is entitled to their opinion, and everyone may freely choose for themselves what they deem to be acceptable language. Yeah, I know. This is where all you ethnic and gender studies majors start screaming about privilege, but I’m sorry, a lot of you twits are confusing privilege and freedom. When I say everyone is entitled, I mean everyone. Equally.

When I say I have a pure heart, it’s because I do. I’m not a hateful person, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fully aware of how much shit I talk. I know damn well my language is offensive to some, but I fully understand both the implications and the consequences.

In other words, tough shit. I’m okay with it. Does that make me an asshole? For some, yes. The worst kind. If you are one of those people, so be it. Like I said, you are entitled to your opinion.

I will say this though, to all the people who sent crazy hate mail, it is my sincerest hope that you eventually learn to chill the fuck out. After all, I’m a ridiculous target for your anger.

Nobody wants to be around someone who’s constantly offended.

Lighten the fuck up.

I have been close friends with a married man for almost two years and we’ve never slept together.  I really care about him though, and him about me.  Is it ever ok to have a sexual relationship with a man who is married to someone else?

Sure. Just get the thumbs up from his wife, and you’re all good to fuck.

Infidelity isn’t about the sex. It’s about the breach of integrity. If his wife doesn’t mind sharing, and all three of you are open and honest about your intentions and desires, then whatever sex you have won’t be a breach of integrity.

Short of that, don’t do it. Trust me. Married people are a package deal, and it’s always better to be open with a couple than to have an affair with just the one, because either way, you’ll end up fucking them both.

It’s been months and I can’t get her out of my head. I think about her in everything I see on television, books, and just out on the street. We were together a long time and now she’s very happy with someone else. How do I put this out of my mind for once and all? I feel so unhappy all the time, and worthless. She was such a big part of my life and now she’s someone else’s.

Slow your roll, Phil Collins.

It’s never easy dealing with a broken heart, but you’re dangerously close to entering a pathetic, self-absorbed fugue state where every thought that escapes your lips comes out in the form of shitty adult contemporary song lyrics.

Get a fucking grip.

Falling out of love takes time and a sense of perspective. You can’t necessarily control how long it takes, but you sure as hell can pull your head out of your own ass long enough to look around and realize that one day soon you’ll have to quit wallowing in the stink of your own self-pity. Nobody can do it but you.

Good luck, ya’ sorry bastard. Not that you’d believe me right now, but I promise, not only will you get over this girl, but you will also fall in love again.

Is it ridiculous to feel that in this day and age, I should second guess my dreams because of how fast the world changes, and, ugh, the economy? I hate to be one of those people that do it for the money and not follow a passion of mine. But I also want to be smart and financially secure for my future. Is it stupid that I want to own a record shop?

Dude, put down the joint and back away from the Nick Hornby novel.

If you haven’t noticed, they aren’t selling little round pieces of plastic anymore, so unless you’ve developed a revolutionary new business plan for the retail distribution of promotional and alternative merchandise for music and entertainment industry lifestyle brands, it’s probably best that you don’t own a record shop.

Good luck, though.

(Oh, and to all you angry vinyl fanatics who went apeshit for thinking I just took a dump in this guy’s Cheerios, are you fucking kidding me?

Did I miss the memo where bankers were suddenly eager to hand out new business loans to any bright-eyed hipster who walks in off the street with a pocket full of dreams about leasing prime retail frontage to cater to a micro-niche analog technology market on the ass-end of a bursted-bubble industry in the shittiest economy since the great depression?

This guy wants to start a business in the real world, so unless one of you pretentious audiophiles is offering up venture capital out of your trust fund, I suggest you recognize the difference between bashing someone’s dream and shooting them straight.)

In response to your response to the “guys as the key and girls as the lock thing”. I think your response was really brilliant, but I want to bring up one problem I caught. Using the word “retarded” is damaging. I understand that you were trying to state that the person who said this “simile” was being ignorant and a jack ass (as well as his friend for thinking it was “cute”) but using such a word is really demeaning to persons that are actually mentally handicapped. It’s ironic because you talk so strongly about how wrong this statement is but then use a mental condition as an insult. Please don’t take my comment as trying to be rude or down-play you; I respect your post but I don’t think using language like “retarded” (or “lame” or “gay”, as other examples) is really effective in getting your point across.

Yeah. Shame on me. I used the word retarded, and because of that, right now up in heaven a little angel with down syndrome won’t be getting its wings.

Fuck you. I mean it. Fuck you right in the face.

You are a member of the thought police, and you are the fucking enemy. Well guess what? I won’t let you shape my language. I won’t let you shape my thoughts.

I know myself. I know my heart. I know my language. I know all the delicious and powerful words that scare pathetic and weak-minded fucks like you.

Words like cunt, nigger, faggot, and retard.

Dangerous words. Loaded words. Beautiful words that the easily offended would ban and burn like books if you could. You realize that’s what you are, right? A hypervigilant book burner. Except you’re worse. You do it on the linguistic level, one word at a time in the name of someone else’s hurt feelings because you’re too warped to tell the difference between an ameliorated pejorative and actual hate speech.

Well fuck that and fuck you. You don’t get to set the standards. You don’t get to deem appropriateness. As long as I’m putting pen to paper with a pure heart, you don’t get to say shit.

How dare you accuse me of damage? As if my words rang forth across the internet, and now somewhere there’s a classroom full of special ed kids crying into their helmets because I used the word retarded. Oh, please.

You know what’s really damaging? Having someone rush to their defense demanding special treatment for their delicate sensibilities. Fuck that shit. I’m not the one making a big deal about being mentally handicapped. You are.

You’re the one who’s being demeaning, not me. You’re the one acting out of fear, not me. You’re the problem, not me. I love my language — all of it — and I won’t let easily offended, self appointed thought police tell me how to use it.

I strongly suggest you lighten the fuck up, because it’s not political correctness that’s ultimately going to bring us all together. It’s having the good sense to recognize actual hate speech when we hear it, and having the good sense of humor to recognize that not one of us cunts, niggers, faggots, or retards is ever above catching a little shit.