Advice

On being pretentious.

Why do you call Lady GaGa by her birth name? Are you trying to show us all how smart and informed you are? That you did your research (or just a cursory google search)? It seemed pretentious and annoying.

You know what’s really annoying? When butthurt fangirls use words they don’t understand. For instance, addressing people by their birth name is, quite literally, unpretentious. On the other hand, it’s the very definition of pretentious to insist that everyone call you Lady Gaga when your name is just plain Stefani with an f.

Advice

On processing that shit.

I’m a young woman in my second year of university, and I consider my life fantastic. I’m more than content with my friends, my family, my studies, my drugs, my music. I’ve had shades of depression and rough patches over the years, but these days I’m just generally content. Except for the fact that I can’t have sex.

I lost my virginity at an EXTREMELY young age (you can count it on two hands) and I’m only now coming to realize what an impact that’s had on me. For years I just accepted it as part of me and didn’t think much of it. But now I’ve come to a point where I’m terrified of sexual intimacy, where I’ve tried to be intimate many times and pushed so many people away because of my fear of vulnerability. I’ve tried to be sexually intimate with close friends and complete strangers, and everything in between, but to no avail. I just freeze.

I’m so embarrassed, as I’m seen as such an accomplished and intelligent and interesting woman to all who know me (forgive the lack of humility.) I think I’m a great person, but then I see myself as defective when I think about my non-existent sex life. I’m just so lost and upset. What on earth can I do?

You’re not defective. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. There’s not much else I can say other than keep processing that shit, girl.

If you can, find a good therapist who can help you navigate your childhood sexual abuse. If therapy isn’t available, take your time and recognize that your “freezing” is a coping mechanism employed in response to the abnormal, traumatic shit that happened to you. No shame. It’s just a leftover emotional response that you have to deal with.

Like any traumatic experience, if you don’t move through it, it’s gonna keep affecting your present day relationships. Just pay attention to yourself. Start recognizing the little details about sex that trigger the fear and terror. Bring it into your conscious mind and analyze it. That’s what I mean when I say process it. Bring it up. Stare it down. Talk it out.

Don’t worry. You’ll beat it. You’re a badass. Just put in the time and effort, and one day, it will have been worth it.

Good luck.

Advice

On a skanky situation.

I have been sexually involved with a big name in the local club scene for the last four months. About two weeks ago I went to my gynecologist for a check up and was given terrible news: I have herpes. As soon as I received the diagnosis, I met up with my fuck buddy and told him the news and that if he didn’t warn the other girls he was fucking, I would.

One of these said girls used to be a close friend in high school and I know for a fact he has not said anything and is still sexually involved with him. We are no longer close, in fact we supposedly hate each other, yet I would honestly hate for this girl I once trusted with my life to get herpes from this asshole (not to mention the 3 other girls I know he is also fucking). Should I tell my ex-best friend to stop fucking him and get checked? Should I tell the other girls as well? Should I get back at the asshole and tell everybody he has herpes? I haven’t told anybody yet, I figured if anyone knew the right thing to do in this tricky situation, it would be you. HELP!!

Translation, “After getting the herp from my rancid-cocked towny DJ, I’m tempted to carpet bomb his pussy posse with the bad news that everyone’s genitalia is a biohazard. Should I exact my revenge by pretending to do the right thing, or should I protect what’s left of my reputation by not alerting the world that my vagina lights up like a christmas tree?”

Yeah, tough call. Hallmark doesn’t have a card for this kind of tacky shit, but at the very least you should probably pull a Snooki and send the bitches a homemade email or note to inform them that they may have contracted herpes. If you do, keep it private and anonymous. There’s no need to embarrass anyone, nor should you have ulterior motives of revenge.

Also, don’t go telling everybody the dude has herpes. Starting rumors is nothing but drama, and I can tell from here you’re not smart enough to spread shit without getting any on you. I promise, it won’t be worth it.

Just cut your losses, take your Valtrex, and move on.

Best-Of Advice

On painting over rust

Dear Coquette,

I spent my high school years being a bitter introvert and wasting my time hating girls who had boyfriends, because nobody was attracted to me. But now in my first year of college I’m trying to start my life over. I have a new haircut and wardrobe, I lost 12 pounds, I smile at people, I joined clubs… and it isn’t working.

I don’t know, maybe there’s something I’m still doing really wrong. I thought the skirts and thinner frame and sunnier personality would make me more attractive, but of the handful of guys I’ve met here, I’ve still got no takers. It’s hard not to ask myself “Why?” and fixate on stuff like my teeth or scalp problem. Those old feelings of being ugly, smelly and undesirable are coming back, and I’m beyond done. I’m sick of being the girl who sits in the corner and really wants to say hi to the good-looking classmate, but won’t because she’s too afraid of looking awkward and being rejected. I’m tired of thinking that Man A or B is too gorgeous to get stuck with a double bagger like me, and resigning myself and giving up.

I figured if there was anybody to ask how to get some confidence and self-worth, you’d be the woman for the job.

A haircut and a diet is how you start bikini season — not a complete life change. You’re trying to mask an inner core of bitter anxiety and self hatred with cosmetic changes. That never works.

All I’m hearing from you is teeth, scalp and skirts. It’s all spray paint and a thin coat at that. Come on, kiddo. Everyone knows you can’t paint over rust. You’re fooling yourself if you think this stuff makes you sunnier. Quite the opposite. You’re still very bitter.

Do you even realize how negative you sound? No one wants to put up with that kind of attitude. You can’t fake sunny. Positive energy radiates from your core. I appreciate that you’re trying to smile at people, but I bet that’s just a coat of paint too.

You can’t smile with bitterness in your heart. Not really. Sure, your face will make the right shape, but people can tell that it’s not real. A smile is a projection of an emotional state of love, and if your conscious mind is fixated on negativity, it’s gonna come off looking awkward, or worse, fake.

You want confidence? Okay. Give this “whole new you” process one more try, but this time, start from the inside and work your way to the surface.

Those old feelings of being ugly and undesirable have been there the whole time, and you need to sandblast them off of your soul. There is no easy way to do it. You’ve got to use all your inner strength, and it has to be tougher than all that gunk to get the job done.

You have to be more sick of all this negativity than you are sick of sitting in the corner. Your desire to be friendly has to outweigh your fear of an awkward moment of rejection. I can’t tell you how to stop hating yourself, but that’s what you gotta do.

Never again referring to yourself as a “double bagger” is a good place to start.

Read “The Coquette” Sundays and Wednesdays in The Daily.

Best-Of Advice

On classy and trashy

People constantly quote you for your definition of cheating, but what are your definitions for classy and trashy? You seem classy, but you’ve had life experiences that some of the more narrow minded populace would consider quite the opposite. How do you define those things?

Classy and trashy are objective manifestations of opposing states of mind that exist across a subjective spectrum of aesthetic sophistication.

These objective manifestations aren’t classy or trashy within themselves. They require contextualization within an aesthetic framework.

For instance, Britney Spears sporting fishnets and a top hat is inevitably trashy, whereas Madonna rocking out the exact same outfit is classy as fuck.

Now, is this due to either woman’s money, talent, or beauty? No, not at all. You’re missing the point if you think like that. Those things have no direct correlation to aesthetic sophistication, and while money, talent, and beauty may make it easier to develop and express aesthetic sophistication, they also make it easier to express a blatant lack of it.

This isn’t just about fashion, by the way. The same holds true across the entire range of aesthetic endeavors — design, music, architecture, the visual and performing arts, even culinary aesthetics.

Come on, it doesn’t take much to know that Anthony Bourdain is all class and Rachael Ray is nothing but trash.

Advice

On god in philosophy class.

I think questions about God in a freshman philosophy course are completely irrelevant. I know that my professor warps the subject and her lectures are shit, so maybe if someone put a better spin on it, they would at least be more interesting.

Wrong, shithead. Philosophy classes are exactly where questions about god are relevant. That’s the whole fucking point of philosophy.

Debate and discussion about the existence, definition, and value of god are vital to your development as a free-thinking individual, and there’s no better place to work that shit out than within an academic discipline devoted to systematic reason and rational argument.

Sharpen your critical thinking. Develop your logic. Send your rational mind into battle against the unanswerable questions of the human condition.

This isn’t about what you believe. It’s about advancing the level of sophistication of your beliefs.

Good luck.

Fun-Sized Advice

On more fun sized advice

Loving the nail polish on your latest tumblr post. What’s it called?
Chanel Le Vernis Khaki Vert Limited Edition

Do you think abortion should be covered by basic healthcare?
Of course it should. We’re insane not to make that shit safe, free, and readily available to every last woman in the country.

I am a young man who wants to toughen the fuck up. Any ideas?
Um, I dunno, prison? The Marines?

To buy an iPad or not to buy, that is the question. I want it to have a camera, should I wait?
Yes. One more week. Trust me.

Why would a guy that likes a girl ignore her over the phone, yet, clearly show that he’s head over heels in person?
Proximity to your pussy.

Why does being thin mean you have good genes? Can I not have awesomely curvy, Christina Hendricks-like genes? Bitch.
Sure, you can have awesomely curvy genes. You can also have inappropriately personal reactions to things that have nothing to do with you. Get the chip off your shoulder. Bitch.

Do you think your life would be different if you didn’t have those good genes?
Yeah, and if my grandmother had balls she’d be my grandfather.

The man I’m fucking is in love with my best friend. He treats her with respect, and he treats me like nothing. Guess this is what I get for fucking him, right?
No, this is what you get for thinking your vagina is a hole through which respect passes.

I would admire you so much more if you weren’t so damn materialistic. I mean in all honestly, how much of your life can you base off of designer clothes and drugs until you get bored with yourself?
I’m not materialistic. I like pretty things. There’s a difference.

Would you do Hank Moody?
Are you kidding me? Fuck yes. I would do things to David Duchovny that would send him crying all the way back to sex rehab.

Does a greater satisfaction to you come from helping others, or being internet famous?
Dude, I’m anonymous for a reason. I loathe fame.

What do you recommend as a stylish alternative to the pacifier when you’re on a massive ecstasy bender? I chain smoked all night last night and I want a way to control my grinding teeth without waking up with vocal chords that feel like breaded, fried spaghetti.
Higher quality drugs and some chewing gum, you numnard.

What do YOU think happens when we die?
We rot in the ground for a hot minute. That’s it, dude. Our consciousness simply ceases to exist. Don’t worry. It’s no big deal. You didn’t exist for the first fourteen billion years, and you won’t exist for the next fourteen billion either.

Advice

On planned parenthood.

Can you write something about the House’s vote to pull funding from Planned Parenthood? As one of the millions of people in this country who have taken advantage of Planned Parenthood’s amazing services, I am outraged. Planned Parenthood spreads awareness across the nation and provides many with life-saving health care that they couldn’t access anywhere else. I, for one, don’t want an STD epidemic…or worse, a teen pregnancy epidemic that will put Gloucester High and MTV reality shows to shame. Hopefully your fantastically sassy self has some insight here.

Insight? Yeah, vote. While you’re at it, don’t ever vote Republican. It’s pretty obvious they’re all a bunch of anti-woman, anti-choice, anti-science assholes pandering to a base of semi-retarded Nascar fans.

Better yet, openly shame your religious friends for their belief system’s intrusion into the political sphere. That malignant “the bible says” bullshit is the primary source of humanity’s willful ignorance on the topic of female reproductive health.

Yes, that’s right. This all comes back to religion. This is about abortion, people. This is about a bunch of delusional pro-lifers so blind in their faith that they can’t even properly interpret the artificial will of an imaginary lawmaker in the sky.

Here in America, only the creepy Jesus freaks think their religious doctrine supercedes a woman’s reproductive rights, and now that they can’t openly legislate their way into your uterus, they’re gonna find whatever bureaucratic back door they can to defund and dismantle the safe and legal family planning services that currently exist.

So I say again, don’t ever vote Republican, and if you really wanna do you civic duty, call up your congressman and make sure the bastard is on the right side of this. At the very least, sign this petition.

Advice

On madonna and gaga

What are your views on Madonna because it seems that you don’t care for lady gaga?

I love Madge, and actually, I think Stefani is incredibly talented. I just wish she’d spend more time crafting quality music instead of grooming her persona. She’s too much sizzle and not enough steak. Madonna earned her icon status over decades. Gaga seems to think it can be done in a year.

Advice

On a hug and a swift kick in the ass.

Dear Coquette,

My husband starting seeing someone else without my knowledge. A few weeks later, his deceit and manipulation led to the decision of divorce. I didn’t know about the girl then — he just started withholding information, being less open, etc. I found out much later that they were seeing each other well before he left. Things didn’t work out between them, to say the least. Cheating is just a symptom of a problem; I realize that it wasn’t anything special about her really but more about the problems that we had.

He and I stayed friends even after I found out about her, and got closer again when they broke up. But I can’t seem to shake the pain. I’m harboring it, the pain, the expectations. I think of this girl and I feel like I can never compare to the way he idealized her. I need to let go and let things be. I can’t wait around for him to come back to me. But when we talk, that’s all I want to know. Is there hope? Is there a chance? Will we get back together? What is he thinking, where is he currently, as far as his expectations? I want a play-by-play so that I can plan accordingly. But all this does is push him away and prevent me from really being present as an individual with thoughts outside of us. I can’t contribute anything except my anxiety.

I don’t really know what I’m asking. I guess I just want a hug or a swift kick in the ass. Both maybe.

Don’t worry, I know what you’re asking. The long-form version of the question is “Why her and not me?” That’s the one your rational mind likes to spin on like a little hamster wheel of anxiety and confusion. The short-form version of the question is “Why her?” That’s the one your ego saves for moments of weakness and rage. Of course, the existential version of the question is simply “Why?” That’s the one that keeps you up at night and prevents you from moving on in any meaningful way.

I’m sorry to say, neither a hug nor a swift kick in the ass is gonna help get answers for you. Playing 20 questions with your emotionally stunted ex-husband isn’t gonna get you anywhere either. In fact, nothing is.

Sure, there are easily identifiable root causes and valid reasons for your divorce, but those are just the who, what, when and where. It’s healthy to analyze and process all that stuff, but it’s never going to churn into a fundamental and satisfying explanation. It sucks, but you need to get cozy with the brutal truth that there is no answer to why. You have to let go of that question. Until you do, the anxiety is gonna own you, and you’ll never really be able to move on.

That’s right. You have to move on — and yes, that really means what you think it means. It’s time to detach yourself emotionally from your ex. No more friendship. No more anger. No more holding out hope. You have to start listening to the stronger parts of your soul and ignoring the desperate little girl inside of you still clinging to the fantasy of reconciliation and some sort of happily-ever-after ending.

Get some distance. Quit making excuses for your ex-husband’s lack of integrity and emotional immaturity. Stop asking your ex-husband all those questions that you should be answering for yourself. For that matter, start referring to him as your ex-husband.

You don’t need a play-by-play from him to plan accordingly. You don’t need a damn thing from anyone other than yourself to confirm what you should already know. You can do better than a man who will always cheat on you. You can do better than a man who’s always halfway out the door. You can do better than a man who manipulates you with your own insecurities.

You can do better.

Read “The Coquette” Sundays and Wednesdays in The Daily.