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JUST A JEALOUS
GUY
THERE'S
SOMETHING SUSPICIOUS
ABOUT A SUSPICIOUS FELLA
DEAR KEN &
ARIEL: I've been dating my new guy for two months. We
see each other quite a bit. Lately, he's been leaving me on my own for one
of the weekend nights to fend for myself. I go to a local hang-out (of mine)
and chill. I'll be damned if I'm sitting home alone on a Saturday night! So,
he does his thing and I do mine. The day after, he interrogates me as to my
activities the night before. Regardless of how insistent I am that nothing
happened between me and anyone else, he refuses to believe me. I have told
him repeatedly that I HAVE never, and WILL never cheat on anyone. He still
doesn't believe me. HELP!!! What can I say or do that might help him believe
me? BTW...I really have told him the truth. I haven't hidden anything.
 ARIEL
SAYS: Sounds like you got one of those walking anachronisms—a forward thinking, modern homo
sapien until you have the audacity to be the 21st century babe you were born
to be. Then, wham! Neanderthal Ned bops you on the noggin with his club and
drags you by your highlighted locks back to the cave.
First of all, bravo to you for going out solo—that's right, you needn't join the ranks of loyal
Walker, Texas Ranger fans (who generally go to bed at 9:07 PM). You're a social
creature! However, it pains me deeply
that you feel obligated -- compelled even -- to give your man a play-by-play commentary of your evening's exploits. Indeed, a better question would be, "How the hell do I tell this bloke politely to fuck off and mind his bidness?" Because,
unfortunately for you, this has nothing to do with your behavior and everything to do with
his. You could spend all night at the local cathedral,
drench yourself with holy water (although I wouldn't recommend this; think of how many dirty, grubby hands have been in
there. Ugh.), bring the priest,
the parish bulletin, and the Holy Ghost and he'd still be suspicious.
Personally, to teach him a lesson, I'd videotape my every move from Saturday night on, then make him watch it the next day. Remember
how when some kids were caught smoking their parents would punish them by
making
them smoke an entire pack? He has to be locked in a room and watch a
videotape of your previous evening all day long. We could even put toothpicks in
his eyelids, like they did in that movie, A Clockwork Orange. Yeah! I promise you, he'll never ask
again.
Er, what the hell was my point? Oh yeah—he has no right to interrogate
you. You don't have to answer without a lawyer, or a really good girlfriend,
present. Then she can tell him to "fuck off" for you. As one of our great
leaders said, "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can
do for your country" -- quick, call up your local recruitment office and
get his interrogatin' ass to Guantanamo
 KEN
SAYS: There's a reason most guys wanna make like Spider-Man and slap a
tracer on their girlfriends' backs whenever said ladies -- particularly in
packs -- are hitting the town. And that reason is that we, as men, hit the
town. And we know what we do when we hit the town, and that is mentally
undress everything with breasts and a heartbeat that happens within our
field of vision. After a few beers, it only gets worse, as we start
imagining what it would be like to 69 the hat-rack in the corner of the
bar.
Actually, I'm only half-joking. But the bottom line is that when guys head
out on the town, the punch list of activities usually looks something like
this:
1) Look at women
2) Consume massive quantities of alcohol
3) Shift from "Looking at" to "Interacting With" mode
4) Attempt to sell women on the virtues of letting us in their trousers
5) Absorb slap, continue drinking, continue ogling
6) Repeat until arrested, broke, shot, etc.
So, you get the point. Guys go out because that's where the women are.
So when our ladies tell us that they're going out, we figure that
unless they're heading to "2-for-1 dyke night" at the local Pizza
Hut, they will most likely be in some establishment where there will be men
for them to look at, and men looking back at them. And this bothers us to no
end.
For inexplicable chromosomal reasons, women seem perfectly capable of going
out with their friends, having some drinks, dancing and flirting innocently,
and actually heading back home without the need to blow the bartender. Guys
have never been able to get our arms around this concept, and the amount of
suspicion our bodies can hold is usually directly proportionate to the
amount of guilt we're carrying.
In other words, as a guy, I'd suggest that your man is out sampling other
items off the dessert menu, and figures you're likely doing the same. The
real red flag is that he's looking for "me time" only two months
into your relationship. Hell, this is the point where guys usually figure,
"Okay, I've put in the hours. Time to ask her to dress up like Batgirl
and do that thing with the trapeze." This is the time you two should be
drifting through that warm, fuzzy "getting to know you" stage
[typically followed by the "I think I need my space" and the
"I'm getting a restraining order, Motherfucker" stages].
Yet he wants to be out and about with the lads. So I'd ask him straight up
if he's got a chippie*. And if he does, damned if you can't go out and get
one all your own.
*"Chippie" = obscure Prohibition-era slang for
"mistress," typically used by guys who are in their 80s or who
listen to way too much Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.
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