Part Two: Some Great Advice

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It's an almost weekly event with one particular friend of mine. The IM window pops open and one of two messages comes across.

1. Boys are stoopid.
2. I've got it bad.

Granted, the actual text of the messages my be different, but underlying whatever prattling is happening in IM is one of those sentiments.

And why does this person come to me? The same reason we all go to other friends, be they the cheerleader or scientist type. Because she likes to wallow publicly in her own filth. Because she likes to revel publicly in her new-found love of the week.

And because, when it comes to relationships, I'm the guy that girls go to for advice. Guys? Not so much. Because, oddly enough, with my guy friends I tend to slip into the cheerleader role, telling them what they want to hear. Hey, it's hard enough being a guy without hearing from a friend that, no, you ain't got a shot and yeah, she is a raging bitch who's using you for attention until something better comes along, at which point she'll reach into your ribcage, rip out your heart and present as a gift to the man she really loves.

Besides, even if I said such things, they wouldn't listen.

And neither do the girls, as a matter of fact. With the ladies, no matter how much the scientist I play, no matter how much evidence I marshall pro or con for the current beau, no matter how honest I am about the motives of men, they're not going to listen either.

And neither would I.

A few weeks ago, I found myself telling my IM buddy to take it easy, to quit overreacting, to cease the obsessing, to halt the over-analyzation, to stop with the self-editing of emails to make herself appear always witty, to give it a little time.

Anyone who's seen me in the first stages of a crush would find that advice perhaps the mosty hypocritical pile of hogwash ever to be set in pixels. I'd be best served in such situations by having my keyboard taken away from me and my cellphone duct-taped shut.

But there I was doling out advice I'm completely incapable of taking.

That's not to say the advice should be discounted--every psych major, psychiatrist and psychologist I've ever known has had a personal life fucked up far beyond anything I've ever experienced. But there they are, raking in the bucks for telling someone else how to get his shit together. And usually doing a fairly good job.

But the advice will be discounted. You don't go to your friends and ask for advice with any intention of following it. You know damn well you've made up your mind in the first nanosecond your current issue presented itself. You're just going to your friend hoping they'll tell you what you want to hear. And if they don't? If, for example, I told you that your current crush is a complete flake, an obvious mama's boy who's obviously been pampered his whole life by women and expects the same from you, a boy who has no respect for you, your time or your sweet, sweet body needs. If I point to example after example--that you've provided me, no less--you're going to say this: "I know. I know. You're right. But..."

But, indeed.

Because you've made up your mind. You just wanted to include someone else in your drama. Why? I can't say with certainty, but I wasn't exactly joking about the wallowing in our own filth comment above. After all, part of the "fun" of a relationship is bragging or bitching about it. So of course you'll go seeking advice.

I'd tell you not to do it, to just leave your friends (and me) alone, to go with that first decision you made and save everyone the time and trouble. But hey, I already told you people not to bother with dating in the first place and if you already went and broke that rule, might as well chuck the other on the compost pile.

Besides, I like giving advice. I like hearing myself talk.

And on that note, I'm taking the suggestion (not advice) of someone else and opening the Nondating Life series to questions. Yes, you too, can email me your problems and I will solve them in full view of the As I Please readers. But you might want to shade the details some, because I think we all know each other personally by this point.

Don't worry, though. The bulk of the series will still be me ranting and raving and preaching, rather than scribbling notes in a pad and asking you to tell me about your mother. (Even though I bet she's really hot.)

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