I am 32 and my boyfriend is 28.  I am an actress and he is a professional poker player that works at Whole Foods. I am southern, he is from New England. I believe in a higher power, he is an atheist.  We couldn’t be more different, yet I find myself making plans with this man. I consider having a life with him and have committed myself to him in a way that I haven’t with any other partner in the past.  I am a giant commitment-phobe although I am not a cheater or dishonest.  I guess I have just never bought into the enterprise of marriage or babies or white fences.

So all this yimmeryammering leads me to my question for you—should I move in with this man? Is commitment a lie we feed to ourselves?  I have always been good about taking a leap of faith in my art, but what about in my life?  I fear being hurt or broken hearted, but I love this man and I want my life with him to move forward.  Does this mean marriage and a labradoodle?

Help me out, Coke Talk.  Or at the very least, make fun of me so I can laugh at my own idiocy and childish paranoia.

How interesting that you’ve chosen a Labradoodle to represent your crippling fear of a broken home. As metaphors go, it’s pretty good.

Your commitment issues and Labradoodles were both created in the late eighties, right around the time the relationship between your rough-and-tumble father (a Labrador Retriever) and your pretty but spoiled mother (a Poodle) began to crumble right before your very eyes.

You were only about ten years old at the time, but the unhealthy dynamic of their marriage forever warped your notion of what it meant to be in an intimate relationship.

Don’t worry, you’re not alone. One might say you’re part of an entirely new breed of bitches, and just like Labradoodles, there seem to be an awful lot of them at Runyon Canyon on the weekends.

Listen, it’s good that you’re in love. Enjoy it. Don’t be afraid to make long term plans with your boyfriend. You’re not your mother, and he’s not your father. Sure, you may end up with a broken heart one day, but that doesn’t mean you’re destined to repeat history.

Now, since you asked me to make fun of you, I figure the least I can do is give you a little shit for the “taking a leap of faith in my art” remark. You’re a thirty-two year old actress. I’m just sayin’, there’s a difference between a leap of faith and a suicide mission.

Oh, and let’s be clear about another thing, a professional earns a living at his craft. That is to say, your boyfriend is a professional grocer. He is an amateur poker player.

I believe the words you’re looking for are, “oh, snap!”

*drops the microphone and walks off stage*