The Accidental Bachelor
For the last month or so, besides obsessively listening to the Passe-Partout Megamix, The Accidental Bachelor and I have been debating the definition of the word “three”—I say it is “the number after two and before four,” and he claims it is “whatever the fuck I say it is.” Bloody talent. For the time being, we have settled on the compromise definition “the same as two, if one of them is pretty big.”
— The Editor
Dear Accidental Bachelor,
My fiancée and I have been together for about a year. We were introduced by a mutual friend, the guy who sells us our pot. Thing is, as I near thirty, I’m starting to slow down. I just can’t party the way I used to. My fianc’e shows no similar signs, and I’m worried we'll grow apart. What can I do to keep the spark alive?
—Mellowing Out
Dear MO,
This one hits a little close to home, MO. I myself am getting long in the tooth and slowing down a bit. The things I used to love don’t excite me the way they used to. I don’t get that surge of adrenaline anymore from nude weed-whacking. You can do one of two things here, MO: either stay with your wild party-girl, or find some octogenarian, win her trust and love, then push her down the stairs and collect her pension.
If you are new to defrauding the pension system, MO, I have good news for you. You and the rest of this week’s contributors have won a copy of my new manuscript, Bodhisattva and Pension Fraud. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted to know about pushing old ladies down stairs and Hindu mysticism.
Hey shithead!
Your column sucks. You are just a rip off of Savage Love. Like, I don’t know if you are trying to be funny, but it isn’t working, you douche. I hope your bad advice gets someone killed and you get sued and have to live the rest of your life sucking cocks in airport terminals.
—I Hate You
Dear IHY,
I’ve got to say, your critique is shocking and an eye-opener for me. I see now that this town is only big enough for one bad advice column.
I am officially calling you out, Dan Savage. You and me, hombre to hombre. Knife fight!
You pick the location.
I pick the fight music.
You bring Maria.
I bring the Sharks.
You bring the Jets.
Daaaa daaaa daaaa daaaa, do do do do do do do do
KHHHHHHAAAAANNN!!!