February 7, 2006
By: Codependent Collegian Advice Columnist, J. Randall Bellingham
Hello again, love monkeys! It is I, J. Randall Bellingham, here to assuage your broken hearts and frustrated libidos.
Let's get right to the mailbag, shall we?
I don't quite know how to say this, but my roommate crawled into bed with me and he gave me a reacharound. We had both been drinking, and it sort of just happened. The strange part - I really liked it.
I don't know what to tell my girlfriend, because I am sure she will find out - Paul (that's his name) has been making wisecracks, and even though she's kinda stupid, she's not THAT stupid.
Craig in Minneapolis
Face it - YOU'RE GAY! Now that that is out of the way, just come out of the closet and tell her you dig the hairy ass of a muscled man more than you like her. Before you know it, you'll be on your way to homo heaven, and winding up on Springer or something. She'll get over it, and find someone more worthwhile than your confused, pathetic self. Even better - give her my number, dude.
It's been three years since I went on a date, and I'm beginning to get a complex about myself. I'm 23, smart, decent-looking, and my girlfriends say I am going to meet Mr. Right any day now.
What advice can you give a girl who can't seem to get asked out?
Sharon in Laguna Beach
Some part of this story is seriously fucked up. Just the fact that you live in Laguna Beach should guarantee you at least one date a week, even if you are a cross-eyed, pock-marked, deodorant-avoiding heifer. Write me back when you can get honest, chickie.