I have to tell y’all, in perusing the comments to this post from yesterday I noticed an awful lot of experience, commonsense and wisdom therein.
There was also snarling hostility towards Corporate America, but I would expect no less from my Reader demographic.
Well done, everybody. More like that, please.
“Dear Dr. Kim,
“I’ve been dating my girlfriend for five years now, but for four of those years we were long-distance while we both went to college in different states.
“We found a great place that was within our budgets and I was so excited to finally be together all the time after years of working around our crazy schedules and having to travel back and forth to enjoy just a couple of days together at a time.
“But now that we’ve made the move, I’m starting to think it was a huge mistake. She’s always been a control freak, but it seems to have trebled in intensity since we moved in.
“She obsessively vacuums the couch – THE COUCH! – every day, freaks out if there’s a single sock on the floor, or a towel that isn’t hung up on the right hook, and when we both get home from work, all she wants to do is clean and tidy, or talk about bills and budgets.
“I know I can be a bit messy so I’ve really tried hard to keep our place as tidy as possible. But I don’t want to live in a show home! I want to be able to come home and kick off my shoes by the door without panicking that she’ll get annoyed.
“It’s only been three weeks, but it already feels like moving in together has killed the romance in our relationship, and I’m scared that if we keep going down this path we are going to end up as resentful roommates rather than boyfriend and girlfriend.
“Dr. Kim, what’s the best thing to do?”
— Controlled, USA
Dear Pussywhipped:
Let me tell you: control freaks / obsessive neatniks / do-what-mommy-says types are incurable. All that bullshit is a great big searchlight shining away from some repressed nonsense from childhood or other serious mental issues, and it’s being directed at you.
You haven’t mentioned whether your sex life is any good. It had better be the “blow the top off your head” kind, because otherwise you need to reconsider your relationship.
Actually, forget I said that. No sex (of whatever excitement or variety) is worth putting up with control freakery. Because one day the desire for sex will diminish if not disappear, and all you’ll be left with is Nurse Ratched.
Just get out now. It’s kinda sad that it took you five years of your life to find this out — and by the way I think you’re an idiot for not having seen all the warning signs long ago — but at least you’re not married yet. If you think Miss Controller is bad now, you have no idea what awaits you on the runup to your (actually, her) wedding day.
Oh, and ignore all the bollocks that idiot Jane Green suggests, because she’s a chick and chicks think that everything can be resolved just by talking about it. You need to know that talking to your Controller will not achieve anything. She is not going to change, and if you try to talk to her, all that awaits you is misery and humiliation.
You didn’t say whether the apartment is in your name or hers, or jointly. Either way, one of you has to leave. If the apartment is in your name, it has to be her; if in her name or jointly, pack your bags and GTFO.
Once away from this minefield, find someone more agreeable, and start to enjoy your life. You have no idea how much more pleasant that is going to be.
— 
“Dear Dr. Kim,
“I have a son aged 38. He has a partner and three children. My husband and I feel as though we’ve been cut off because we haven’t seen any of them since Christmas 2019. One of his sons was born in 2021, so we haven’t even met him.
“There hasn’t been a falling out – it seems that we have just drifted into this situation. The main problem is his partner. She used to claim that we never made the effort to see them, even though we were always the ones who messaged and made plans.
“In fact they never once came to us. It always felt like we did all the running – but this wasn’t good enough for her. The longer the situation has gone on, the harder it is to see a way out.
“Our daughter and my elderly father have also heard nothing from our son. He has cut himself off from the whole family. But I know that as soon as someone dies he will want his share of any inheritance.
“Dr. Kim, I’m at a loss as to what to do.”
Dear Loose:
It sounds very much like you’ve come across the dreaded “Poontang Over Parents” situation. In these situations, it’s often a terrible thing when your son chooses the former option, but as much as I make light of the problem, it’s not at all a nice thing.
The part of your letter that bothers me is this: “I know that as soon as someone dies he will want his share of any inheritance.”
Right now, you’re being stiffed from the love and joy one should expect from grandchildren — fucking hell, it’s the only upside of having your own kids in the first place — and there’s only one way to head off this little bit of avaricious spite.
Actions have consequences, and your asshole of a son (and the bitch he’s hooked up with) will need to learn this lesson ASAP.
You and your husband should prepare a joint Last Will & Testament now (I’ll explain the “now” in a moment). In it, make sure to specify that Loving Son will get nothing, nada, bupkes from your estate, ever, and your daughter and her family (whom you love and who loves you back) will get it all. Be sure to explain why, in as scathing or hurt tones as you can manage (your lawyer will doubtless be able to offer good advice thereon).
Then send him a copy (with receipt signature required, to prove that he actually got it). Don’t put a cover letter with the will; just let the thing stand all by itself.
Yes, this may exacerbate the situation, but let’s be honest here: how much worse can it get?
And why should you do this now? Simply put, if you do it later, the little shit may contest the will, claiming that you and your husband were “mentally impaired by advanced age” or whatever the legal term is, so it’s in your best interests to make that a non-issue.
I am truly sorry that you are being put through this, but right now there’s not much else you can do. Pleading with him to change his behavior will just give the Bitch Girlfriend satisfaction.
By the way, I’m accepting your assertion that their behavior is indeed unwarranted. If it turns out that you or your husband said or did something unpleasant to the girlfriend, then you are the ones seeing the consequences of your actions.
— 
“Dear Dr. Kim:
“I’m an elderly actor, and I’m told that I’m still quite ‘hot’ (whatever that means) and certainly, I seem to have no problem attracting women, in many cases a lot younger than myself.
“In fact, that seems to be my major problem. Many years ago I was more-or-less happily married to a woman who was also quite ‘hot’ — I certainly found her to be so, which was in no small part why I married her — and we had two sons, both now in their middle age.
“The problem really is that when I was a young man, I was quite certainly attractive to women not my wife, and I strayed quite a bit, so to speak, when opportunity presented itself.
“Anyway, when I confessed my indiscretions to my wife, she tossed me out and divorced me.
“All that’s in the distant past, and I’m happy to say that we have remained friends despite all that trouble.
“I kind of wish that I hadn’t got divorced, in fact. While I’ve had no end of willing bedmates since…
“Dr. Kim, what’s your take on all this?”
— Dancer, London UK
Dear Dancer,
Your problem is not that you strayed; hell, when faced with a plethora of warm, moist and willing female pudenda, few men are able to resist that siren call.
Your problem — a rookie mistake, in one of mature years — is that you admitted said indiscretions to your wife. Now that that bullet has passed through the church, so to speak, it remains only for your mistake to be made known to other men, and here’s the advice:
Never, ever admit to your spouse that you inserted your phallus into any extramarital orifice. Unless you are actually caught in flagrante delicto — and by that, I mean in the very act of making the beast with two backs (as a former Shakespearean actor, you are no doubt familiar with the source of the expression) — no man should ever admit to infidelity.
Of course, with modern technology, such a denial may be impossible — ask ex-President “BJ” Clinton — and if the doxy gets pregnant, the same technology may also compel an admission and doom your marriage.
But otherwise, keep shtum and deny, deny, deny. Ignore the advice of (mostly female) agony aunts that you’ll feel better after you’ve got things off your chest or “come clean” [sic]: you won’t, as you discovered. If the conscience thing is that strong in you, the time to exercise it is prior- and not post insertion.
— 
“Dear Dr. Kim,
“About six months ago, a new family moved in next door. They are a little younger than us and don’t have kids. The wife works away a lot, while her husband works from home and has been doing up the house.
“From the moment they met, he and my wife seemed to take a shine to each other. It didn’t bother me at first that he made her laugh, or that she was always popping over to take food. But lately, I’ve noticed strong sexual tension between them. He often makes crude jokes, or uses innuendo.
“Normally, my wife would find this rude or inappropriate. She doesn’t – she just laughs even louder. They do this in front of me, so they’re not hiding it.
“I think they’ve been texting each other too, although I haven’t been able to confirm this as my wife keeps her phone close at all times, and I don’t know her password.
“It feels like they’re intimate, or certainly about to become so.
“I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to confront my wife and upset her if I’m wrong.”
— Unsure, Suburbia
Dear Unsure,
My old Dad always said to listen to your gut: if it says it’s hungry, get something to eat; if it says it needs to pee, go to the toilet; if it says not to walk through Central Park at midnight, stay in your hotel room; and if it says your wife is bonking your new neighbor, she probably is. And in this case, your gut is absolutely correct — and all the evidence you’ve presented proves it.
She’s fucking him — or very close to doing so. The real question is: what are you going to do next?
I’d suggest having a quiet word with Neighbor Boy’s wife, telling her everything you’ve just told me; let him do the ‘splaining. And when he confesses, which he might very well do, have her confront your wife.
In the meantime, let your phone’s battery run down to zero, and then ask your wife if you can use her phone to make an important call, in the next room. If she refuses, there’s your proof right there.
Oh, and talk to a lawyer soon, so you don’t lose the house and/or kids when the SHTF.
Good luck.
—
By the way: Deirdre has it precisely wrong.
Here’s an interesting situation: a letter from each side of a dispute.
Hers:
“Mon cher Médecin du Toit:
“I am the girlfriend of a famous English footballer, but mon Dieu! he gives me beaucoup de mals de tête, because he is always flirting and making the love with other women. And when I argue with him and tell him to stop the affaires, he gets tout à fait angry with me.
“Not long ago, en fait, he actually made me leave his chambre à hotel because I was réprimanding him for kissing another woman right in front of me, and showing me no respect!
“I give to him myself and everything he wants of me, yet it seems to be not enough.
“Monsieur le médecin, que faire?”
— Une femme derangée, Paris
Dear Deranged:
Let me get this straight: you get involved with a young, rich and successful footballer, and you expect him to treat you properly? You didn’t mention his ethnic group / race, but I don’t need to know that because from experience, his kind behaves more or less the same, regardless of race or background. (Your own countryman David Ginola was, in his time, no different from your guy, and he only “settled down” after he retired from football and, well, grew up.)
There is no easy answer to this problem. You were attracted to this guy for — let’s face it — his body, fame and fortune (in no specific order). If he hadn’t had any of those, you wouldn’t have given him a second glance. Unfortunately, those same attributes make it difficult for him to treat you “properly” because — let’s face it again — there are lots of women like you, and faced with that smorgasbord, very few men of that type are going to remain celibate let alone faithful for long.
You’ve made your choice, so there it is: live with it, or leave it. Jeff Bezos is already taken, so short of getting a job in telemarketing or food service, your options are to go with a less famous but equally-rich guy, but beware: the competition for them is even greater than for footballers who are, to be honest, a euro a dozen and if I may be… franc, you’re not that special.
Bonne chance.
— 
And from the other half of this relationship:
“Yo Doctor, whatever:
“My main woman is batshit crazy, and no matter how much loot ‘n jewels ‘n stuff I give her, she’s always complaining. I know I don’t always behave well, but you know? when you’re earning over fifty grand a week, you always gotta prove to the Guvnor that you’re worth it, and that’s like stressful. So yeah, sometimes I get a little outta control, but I have to do it to keep my balance going, yeah?
“Also, last season I scored like seventeen goals, and this year only three, so like people are wondering if it’s all over for me, yeah? And I’m not even an old man of thirty yet, and I might not get picked for England again because I “party too hard” or some shit. Know what that does to my head, right?
“And then when I get home or to my hotel room or whatever, my girl gets on my case because I did like twenty tequilas and kissed some bitch who stuck her mouth into my face.
“So I’m getting shit at the club, the newspapers think I’m some kind of degenerate, and my main squeeze thinks I’m seven kinds of arsehole.
“Doctor, what can I do, man?”
— Football God
Dear Godless,
If you think life is tough now, just wait until your career is over, your health has gone down the drain and the only relationship you have with women is through child support cheques.
I don’t blame you, though: I blame the fact that people with questionable skills (sportsmen, actors etc.) are overpaid and start thinking that a) the gravy train will last forever and that b) they are immortal and nobody can tell them what to do.
My advice is to read — I know, read? — something called “The Gods Of The Copybook Headings“, and have it all explained to you by someone with a little more than the O-levels you clearly missed out on.
Perhaps then you’ll stop acting like an overindulged child, but I doubt it. Oh, and don’t expect your French girlfriend to put up with you forever — Frog chicks can be pretty tough about this kind of thing, and you’re fortunate that she hasn’t shot you dead or poisoned your breakfast cereal, yet. Remember that she too has options; only they’re not footballers but rich older men who want and will pay, a lot more than you are, for whatever it is she’s selling.
I’d wish you good luck, but you’ve already had that (football talent, youth and a club scout who spotted you earlier on), and you’re pissing it all away instead of going on your knees every day and thanking God for it. So: have fun with whatever remains of your worthless life.
—
