To print this page, select "Print" from the File menu of your browser salon.com > Books Dec. 14, 1999 URL: http://www.salon.com/books/col/keil/1999/12/14/advice How much is too much? I can't focus on my schoolwork unless I have sex three or four times a day. Does this make me an addict? - - - - - - - - - - - - By Garrison Keillor Dec. 14, 1999 Dear Mr. Blue, Let me get right to the point. I think I am addicted to sex. I'm a healthy 20-year-old woman and I really can't focus on work and school unless I have sex at least three times a day, preferably four. I find myself waking up at 6 a.m., shaking my boyfriend awake and satisfying my desires. I find myself sometimes skipping class to work in a quickie, staying up all hours of the night ... you know the rest. I'm lucky to have a loving, affectionate, devoted boyfriend who is more than happy to help me continue my addiction. But I honestly enjoy myself! Am I just a normal 20-year-old? Or should I treat this like an addiction? Awaiting your sage advice Dear Awaiting, I don't have any sage advice, only questions of my own: How do you manage to stay in school? I assume your parents are supporting you and you don't have to work, but really, sex four times a day raises real time-management issues, unless you've got the drill down to 10 or 15 minutes. My second question is: How long has this been going on? The boyfriend is going to wear out his organ, even with the use of industrial-strength lubricants, and eventually he is going to lose interest as well and go into the priesthood and take a vow of celibacy and be darned grateful for it. Sex, my dear, as wonderful as it is, can't be wonderful four times a day. It just can't. So if you're still pursuing the quota, chasing diminishing returns, this strikes me as obsessive behavior. Perhaps you might, in between getting dressed and getting undressed, find someone with a certificate on his or her office wall -- a psychologist, a minister, a mechanical engineer, somebody -- and ask them. Dear Mr. Blue, I need to make some changes in my life. I'm 29, single and live in a midsize Midwestern city. I got my degree in French and taught in a French high school for a year. Then I came back to the U.S. and started going for an MBA, but I realized that I despised business courses and would end up zoning out during class. So I started writing theater reviews for an alternative weekly. I liked doing that a lot. I have a day job at an agribusiness corporation, which pays the bills, but I can't imagine doing this much longer. I've been yearning to move to a more international city, thinking my chances of finding what I want to do would be greater. Am I too impulsive? Why can't I seem to focus? Bored and Anxious Dear Bored, You're young, dear heart, and you're searching around for what you're meant to do. You're enterprising, and you've found something you like a lot, and you need to let these things sort themselves out. Keep the day job for a while -- say, until the end of next summer -- and start to plot your move to a bigger city. You're focusing just fine, but hey, it's a tumultuous time in a person's life. Of course, New York is the city that presents itself first. A city where theater is a major industry, a city of international trade. But consider Chicago. Or Los Angeles. Or a dozen other places. In any case, it's perfectly normal that you feel yourself drifting. It's what we do at that age, if we're lucky. Some poor people get all nice and secure in their 20s, and then they have to try to accomplish in their 40s or 50s what you're doing now. You're ahead of the game. When I was 29, I was doing an early morning radio show, spinning the disks; I was bored silly and wondered what would become of me. It's a great age. Dear Mr. Blue, I'm a 38-year-old single woman. I have a great job that allows me to travel and I feel very fulfilled except for one thing. My parents divorced when I was very young, and my father got custody of me and my two sisters. He remarried when I was 7, so I've been with my stepmother most of my life. I've had absolutely no contact with my mother all these years. I've been having thoughts of finding her. I have no memories of her whatsoever, and my father has never spoken of her in all these years. I've been thinking about this for so long, I can't be objective about it. This could hurt a lot of people, including my stepmother, whom I love very much, but a part of me feels like such a coward for not pursuing this. What in the world should I do? Confused Dear Confused, Find your mother and make contact with her. Write her a letter and tell what's happened in your life. Seek her out. Your stepmother will not be hurt by this; surely, she knows that you love her, and that's the important thing. Your curiosity about your mother will not diminish with time. The longer you think about her and about whether to find her or not, the larger she looms in your mind, and really she is simply a human being. The person who is being hurt is you. Be strong, and screw up your courage, and write the letter and make the phone call. Dear Mr. Blue, I love my husband, love my children, loathe my job and my suburban house and all I really want to do is move to the mountains, think, write fiction, finish raising my two teenage daughters and look at pretty trees. Everyone thinks I'm nuts but me. Miserable in the Midwest Dear Miserable, If your family is firmly planted there on the frozen tundra, enjoying the cheese sandwiches and the hockey, you'll have to conspire pretty hard to pry them loose and trundle them out to the mountains, and do you really want to be responsible for everyone's happiness? Do you want teenage daughters looking at the snow-capped peaks and mourning their lost happiness in the cornfields? A husband who subscribes to the old hometown newspaper and drives a hundred miles to a liquor store where he can buy Leinenkugel beer? And who is going to pay you to look at pretty trees, my dear? You'd better write your big commercial novel first, and meanwhile settle for hills and dales. You're not nuts, just jumping the gun. First you write the novel, in which two teenage girls escape from their nutty mother and run off to the mountains where loathesome suburban men lure them to a house surrounded by beautiful trees and where, in the last chapter, their mother arrives to rescue them. This novel becomes an Oprah Book Club selection and Dreamworks buys the movie rights and you and your lovely husband take the proceeds and purchase that big A- frame in the Grand Tetons. The girls will be at Mount Holyoke, but they'll visit in the summer. Dear Mr. Blue, I am a 30-year-old copy editor languishing in the Bay Area, who has just seen her 24-year-old ex-boyfriend off to his home in New York after a lovely visit. I broke up with him a year ago because I felt odd about the age difference -- he was young and bouncy, I was old and crotchety -- and because he was moving East. We had a lovely visit -- he took a cab 20 miles to my house in the wee hours of his last night in San Francisco so we could drink champagne and snuggle and he could play me some of his new music. We've both mellowed a bit in the time we've been apart, and now I am besieged by thoughts of music and dog walking and, well, possibly Brooklyn. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, but I think I am just plain fond of him. I mean, how can one not be fond of a gorgeous and brilliant man playing cello naked in one's kitchen? I ask you. Is this my heart talking, or my biological clock? Tick-a-Boom Dear Tick, Sounds like your heart talking. Your clock doesn't talk for five or six more years, and your clock doesn't care about the cello or the brilliance, just the nakedness. This is your heart. Invent a reason to visit New York and then purchase the ticket and call him and tell him you're coming and see if he invites you to come stay with him. And I hope you've already written him a long letter telling him how fond you are of him and his cello and his dog and his nakedness. And copy edited it and mailed it. Brooklyn is a fine place. It's like the Bay Area, but with 85 percent less civic narcissism. The book publishers are in constant need of copy editors. Manhattan is 15 minutes away by train, if you should ever need to go see "The Nutcracker" or look at the Temple of Dendur or see André Watts play the Beethoven "Appassionata," but with a naked cellist in the kitchen, you'd have all the appassionata a person could wish for. Dear Mr. Blue, I'm in my late 20s and suddenly find myself pregnant and on my own. I'm going to have the baby and keep it. I'm in college pursuing my bachelor's degree with a 4.0 GPA. The father is a casual friend with whom I had a drunken one-night stand. Although he is a gentle and good-natured person, I'm not attracted to him and I'm not interested in spending time with him in the future. We just don't have much in common. I understand that my life of youth and pleasure is definitively over, and that it's very unlikely that any other man would volunteer for a life of helping me baby-sit. So, I'm willing to go it alone, although I spend nights awake thinking of the terrifying aspects of this situation. I'm trying to decide whether to tell my casual friend what we've done. I'd really prefer not to. He is an honorable person and will probably feel obliged to help me out, but I don't want to be linked financially or otherwise to him and I don't want to share parenting with him, and I sure don't want to be involved with his family. He may move away from the area before things become obvious, and I don't see him much anyway, but if he happens to see me with a burgeoning belly or toting an infant, I think he could count backward from nine. Knocked Up Dear Knocked, You're brave and good, as well as brilliant, and if you prefer not to tell Mr. Casual that you're having his baby, then don't. Your reasons are perfectly valid. But do read up on the legal aspects of paternity and paternity rights, so you know where you stand. Don't give up on youth and pleasure, though, and don't be too terrified. But do start to put together some (I hate to use this word but here it comes) network of pals and relatives who can help you out for a few years. Single mothers need good friends. Even more, they need good mothers. Where's Grandma? Close by, I hope. Dear Mr. Blue, My girlfriend and I have always had a significant religious schism. I have a very skeptical, anti-clerical view of religion, and she leans toward a more Calvinistic Christian view. All of this rather scares me, though she is pretty casual about it. My parents had a similar difference and they divorced. I fear a future problem with my girlfriend. It's been three and a half years of best friendship and I would like to ask for her hand, but this looming problem scares me. Any thoughts on the matter? Befuddled in Michigan Dear Befuddled, The tone of your letter suggests that you are standing on the edge looking down into the schism, that it's a large fact in your life, and you have large forebodings about a future with her, but where's the evidence? You don't say you've discussed this with her, and silence does make these differences appear larger and more threatening. If your girlfriend takes a casual view of your differences, then why shouldn't you? A Calvinist is brought up to be leery of being yoked with unbelievers, and if she isn't, well, maybe you should relax. What bothers me about your letter is the fact that your first sentence is not "I am in love with the most wonderful woman in the world and for three and a half years life has been sweet indeed," but you didn't ask me about that, so I'll shut my mouth. Dear Mr. Blue, Almost a year ago, I stopped returning calls from a friend I've had for 10 years, a very unhappy, needy, clingy person with a martyr complex. For the past few years, any time I've spent with her I have dreaded beforehand and regretted later. It is tiring and depressing to deal with her. I have decided not to continue this friendship and have been tapering off our contact. My question is, do I need to tell her this explicitly? She has been leaving odd messages designed to inspire guilt. It feels cowardly and cruel to not respond at all, but if I were to come right out and say that I don't want to see her anymore, it will be ugly. My gut tells me she has seen this coming for a while; she is not a stupid woman, but she seems to be getting more and more desperate for my attention. Why won't she take the hint? Do I have to spell it out? What do you advise? Feeling Trapped Dear Trapped, She won't take the hint because she is desperate. You would do her a favor if you could tell her why you can't continue with her, that she has worn out your friendship and you have no more to offer. A 10-year friendship deserves at least a decent burial. I suggest that you put the words down on paper, where you can look at them and weigh them and make sure they aren't caustic or snide or belittling, just very, very clear. And then take the letter to her and give it to her in person. Let her read it, and say you're sorry, and turn and go. Friendships are not carved in stone. Most of them dwindle, or ebb, or crash in flames, and this one probably has run its course, though sometimes a beautiful bird does rise up from the crash site. You never know. But nothing is gained by not telling her the plain truth. And you feel like a coward if you don't tell her, so do. Dear Mr. Blue, My wife and I were each married before and had children by those earlier relationships. We have three daughters. Each of our former spouses has remarried and has a child in their new relationship. Their new spouses had children in earlier relationships. We all live in the same area and the children know each other. They mostly think it a great joke: One child introduced another as her half-brother's half-sister's half-sister's half-sister's half-sister's half-brother's brother. Is there an etiquette for this feature of a modern world? Stepdad Dear Stepdad, The etiquette is simplicity and kindness. You put your arm around your half-brother's half sister's half-sister and you say, "This is my sister." The basic principle is: In friendly company, people get to say who they are, and they don't need to delineate and define. If your mother's father was black, and you consider yourself to be black, then you call yourself a black person, even if your dad's family was pure Norwegian. Or, if you prefer, you call yourself African-American. If you're three-eighths Ojibway, you can dispense with the fraction and simply be an Indian. My stepdaughter has a son and I have decided that I will be his uncle. You got a problem with that? Dear Mr. Blue, Well, it's the old story: I am a 45-year-old woman, divorced. He is a 49-year-old man, married. It started as a friendship and then went further. He has asked me to wait until his life gets resolved, and though no promises are being made, I think we both want to see what the future holds. I love and care for him deeply and know he cares as much for me. The problem is my own self-doubt and insecurities. Sometimes I feel I'd wait a lifetime for him; other times, I feel I'm probably just fooling myself. We see each other rarely while he works things out. So, an opinion based on sketchy information: Am I nuts? Squirrel Dear Squirrel, If you're nuts, then so are most of the rest of us squirrels. Sit tight, don't push and don't work too hard on self-doubt. Time will provide you with all the self-doubt you need. Dear Mr. Blue, I'm 24 and living in the big city, a small-town boy at heart, and I've been dating a small-town girl for over a year now. She is not as educated as I am but is nonetheless smart, beautiful and has a successful career as a hairstylist. For some reason she doesn't communicate well with me. I miss the deep conversations I used to have with my friends from college. She's a super listener, but she doesn't speak much. I ask her questions three times before she answers and the answers I get are never more than a few words. Do I need a more educated girl who can have a discussion with me? Or should I take the plunge? Wet Socks Dear Wet Socks, Conversation is crucial in any long-running relationship, absolutely crucial. Don't leave home without it. Don't marry anybody who doesn't occasionally make you laugh. Every love affair runs into rocky stretches now and then, moods shift, the skies darken, snakes come up out of the toilet, and it helps a lot to be with someone with a quick mind who is good to talk to, whose take on things you want to know, and who has a sense of humor. Marriage to a silent person is harrowing, to be avoided at all costs. It doesn't have to do with her education, it has to do with her herself and how she feels around you. Maybe she's scared of you, probably she's full of self-doubt, but she simply isn't making contact, and you'd be terribly foolish to plunge into a life with her. Dear Mr. Blue, About a year before my mother died, she and my father separated after 48 years of marriage. It was about time. She was a deeply troubled woman, alcoholic, and my father was a good reason for her to be that way. As soon as she died, he moved back into her house and made all traces of her disappear. Two months later he announced that an old woman friend of theirs had stopped by to visit, a woman my mother had broken off with when she found out that the friend and my father were carrying on. The friend's offering of condolences to my father was generous indeed: She spent the night. They've been carrying on ever since. Now he wants my sister and me to accept his new arrangement as the wonderful thing he says it is. Frankly, I didn't like this woman 25 years ago. I like her even less now. I don't like the way my father treated my mother, nor do I like the reappearance of the girlfriend. Is there any reason I should be gracious to these people? Disgusted Son Dear Disgusted, Yes, there is. Be gracious for your own sake. You needn't affect big feelings that are false, but there is an all-purpose pleasant easiness that can be brought to bear, which will make things easier for you. Your mother is gone. You should remember her kindly, but you needn't seek justice now in her behalf. Consider the possibility that you don't have all the facts and never will, and ease up on the old man a little. Of course we'd all prefer that a geezer behave in a stately manner and sit in the park and beam and chuckle, but the old erotic urge doesn't necessarily fade with age, and old goats get horny too. Avert your eyes and be gracious. Dear Mr. Blue, I'm madly in love with a beautiful man who sold his home in the Midwest to live in California with me. He has friends here and loves the California lifestyle. We're happy. The problem is this: He loves to get together with a few guy friends, most of them single, a couple times a week in a bar. I'm not used to this and find it unnerving. I get suspicious and feel left behind. I trust him, but there is a lot of temptation in these bars. Will he outgrow this? (He is 38, I'm 44, for heaven's sake.) Or am I the one who needs to grow up? I do try to keep busy with my own friends, family and pursuits, but it still gets under my skin. Your thoughts on this would be greatly appreciated. Trying to Understand Dear Trying, You are being left behind. This happens to us all the time if we're not a Siamese twin. Sorry you're unnerved by it. If you trust him, then trust him. If you don't, then say so and try to deal with that. But it is quite normal for a man to go off to meet his friends a couple times a week. Dear Mr. Blue, I am 23 and have been with the same wonderful guy for the past two years. We met at college six months before my graduation and fell quickly and deeply in love. He introduced me to love and sex, gives kind but honest critiques of my writing and has helped me through all my post-graduation blues. He's altogether wonderful, plans to graduate this spring and will move back to our home city, where I am, come May. For the past year and a half, we have lived away from each other. When we are together, I know exactly why I hold on to him, but those times seem to be getting fewer and farther between. I find myself getting incredibly lonely, and not always for him. Time and distance are making my mind wander from him and it scares me. There is a part of me that wants to be free (I've met many great guys here). There is another part that wants to cling to him and never hurt him for the world. I love him and we have talked about the future together (although the realist in me says 23- and 21-year-olds have no place talking about marriage). I feel there is a world that I want to experience, good or bad. I don't know what to do. I feel mean and selfish, but justified in my feelings. Restless Dear Restless, I agree that you shouldn't talk about marriage. So don't. Be purposefully vague about the future, and no matter how sweet his company is, don't let yourself be maneuvered into making a commitment that is less than heartfelt. Make your own plans and tell him whatever you decide but don't negotiate with him about the future, not when you have such ambivalent feelings. Sometimes it's good for lovers to leave the future untouched, blank, a door that one does not try to see beyond. Don't cling to him. Clinging isn't natural for a 23-year-old woman. You're strong, you have a sense of yourself, you don't need this man for an anchor. Don't stifle your curiosity about the big world out there, and don't feel selfish about your need to experience life and be on your own. He may be altogether wonderful, he may be Frank of Assisi, but it's your life, dear, and the part of you that wants to be free deserves to be paid attention to. Let the relationship find its own way. You're not the author of it. salon.com | Dec. 14, 1999