Code dead

I went to a friend’s wedding, a friend whom five years ago I would have called a "best friend." I don’t know how to describe our friendship now because we don’t talk or see each other much. I was reacquainted with her ex-boyfriend (she dated him for three months three years ago) at her wedding, and now I’m dating him. She’s pissed and claims that I am breaking the "code" — the unwritten code of not dating your friends’ exes. I assumed that ended if you got married. I have polled quite a few girlfriends to see what they think. Most say the code is over when you marry, but some say it isn’t. I am curious what you or your readers think.

ENDING THE CODE

Where I come from, you’re considered a model of self-restraint if you refrain from fucking your friends’ current boyfriends. Exes are entirely fair game. So maybe I’m not the best judge, ETC, but for what it’s worth, here’s my take.

If your friend had been traumatized by her relationship with this man, and if the two of you were still so close that she would be forced to interact with him if you were dating him, then you should have refused to date her ex. But she clearly wasn’t traumatized by her relationship with this man — she invited him to her wedding! — and you guys don’t hang out much anymore. Any friends-don’t-date-friends’-exes fatwa would have to be considered inoperative under these circumstances. Your buddy has no right to make you feel guilty about going after her ex.

Finally, I suspect something else is going on here. Your friendship isn’t what it used to be: she’s not making time to see you, you’re not calling. Your friend may be, consciously or subconsciously, latching on to this supposed violation of some ridiculous code as cause to officially break with you. Some people find drifting apart harder to accept than blowing apart, hence your soon-to-be-ex-friend’s manufactured outrage. She wants to make herself feel better — heck, feel superior — about the end of your friendship, and your supposed violation of this goofy code is the best she can come up with.

I’ll be blunt: I’m straight, I’m smart, I’m funny, and I’m cool. I appreciate art, I’m good at talking to people, and I’m the loneliest damn bastard I know because I refuse to tolerate people who aren’t as good as I am. Also, to my misfortune, I’m quite young — 18 years young, in fact. This brings me to my questions: Thing 1: Where do I start the search to find my dream girl? Simply waiting around has not worked for me so far. Thing 2: How do I while away the time? I’ve tried burying my troubles in the random, pretty little bubbleheads that annoyingly populate my tiny, tiny world, but it just makes me that much lonelier when they can’t talk about Foucault when we cuddle. Should I abstain until I find someone I can appreciate?

Awaiting your response with bated breath,

Studied Thoroughly Under Der Derian

I’ll be blunt: Why would I give useful advice to an insufferable little shit like you? I may not want to sleep with women, STUDD, but I don’t have anything against them as a people. And while you claim to be straight, smart, funny, and cool, I have only your word on those qualities. I have in my possession, however, absolute proof in the form of your letter that you are an unbearable twat and an intolerable dickweed. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I gave you advice that might result in you actually landing a girl.

Your saving grace, STUDD, is your age. An 18-year-old asshole is just as repulsive as a 38-year-old asshole, but there’s still a chance — a slim one — that an 18-year-old can outgrow his assholery. There’s still time for you to learn that no one is perfect, yourself included, and that we are all damaged goods. Tolerating others is the price we pay for being tolerated ourselves. If you don’t learn these things, STUDD, and learn them soon, you deserve to be utterly alone.

I am a 21-year-old single mother. I’m about 5-feet, 6-inches tall and weigh 103 pounds. I run every day and generally try to take care of my body by eating right. My problem is that I hate the way I look. I am actually repulsed by my body. I try to take very brief showers and avoid the mirror when I can. I’m not a prude. The sight of naughty bits doesn’t repulse me. But my avoidance of all nudity hinders my sexual encounters. I always want to wear a shirt or have the lights off. This is a problem with my current boyfriend because he says that if I trust him enough to sleep with him I should trust him enough to let him see me naked. He also has told me that we can’t continue seeing each other if he doesn’t get to see me naked. I have let him see every part of my nude body — just not all at once. So he knows I’m not hiding some monstrous deformity from him. I guess I thought my boyfriend would be more sensitive to my fear and let me stay covered up. Do I owe him nudity?

Wrapped Up

You see your boyfriend’s insistence on seeing you naked as evidence of his insensitivity, WU, but I see it as proof that he cares about you. Your hang-ups about your body are irrational and they’re something you need to get the fuck over. Hopefully his ultimatum will motivate you to get your ass to a shrink already. For while you don’t "owe him nudity," WU, you do owe your boyfriend a partner who isn’t a complete nutcase.