XXVII. Letters to Dickhead (ii) (first published 1-27-13)

Dear Dickhead,

My boyfriend recently told me that I should work out more. We’ve been having less sex lately, and I’m really worried about whether or not he still cares about me. I love my boyfriend a lot, and I try and make him happy, but the harder I try, the more distanced he becomes. I know that I shouldn’t try so hard, but I just obsess over him, night and day.



Dear Lovesick,

To make of yourself an object is. Marina Abramaović steels herself on a metal chair. There is a point to Chris Burden’s Shoot: the pain of a bullet is nothing next to the pain of not knowing whether one is loved or of knowing one isn’t loved. God hates whiners. Cruelty is a peony in bloom. Sex in a club knows no colors. And at a certain point, He realized that He was fat and old, and that His creation was a monstrosity. Too easy to get it wrong. Boredom borders the edge of every tragedy. Better to love and lose. No. Better to love and hate. No. Not better at all. Better not to speak.

The funny thing about John the Baptist’s head on a plate: it’s grinning.


Dear Lovesick,

The things your boyfriend tells you show that he’s not the guy for you. While I would always recommend exercise, because it is healthy, because it makes you happier and more energetic, do not do it for someone else; do it for yourself. If you are in a relationship that makes you doubt yourself constantly, it’s time to reassess your horizons. Don’t suffer simply because you feel self-doubt. In short, girlfriend, you can do better.



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