Your commentary on the letter from “Confused” [Dategirl, Oct. 29] was more than a little cynical, and for that matter, pretty damn insulting. Sure, I’ll grant you that a lot of guys don’t like going down on women, but a lot of guys are petty, immature assholes, too. Saying “I fully believe that men go on about how much they love munching the rug because they think it’s what you want to hear” and implying that men only perform oral sex to get something in return is a slap in the face to those of us who just really fucking enjoy it because it’s really fucking hot. There may not be a ton of us out there, but we do exist. If “Confused” isn’t happy with the quality of the head she’s getting, she should just keep looking.

I made a mistake, and I apologize. What I meant to say is that some men lie about loving the muff dive. Just like some women fib about having a passion for football, blow jobs, and domestic beer. Many of us actually do enjoy a refreshing Miller High Life followed by a knobber (I even know one or two who watch football voluntarily), but there are also plenty of dames who’ll tell you only what they think you want to hear. Believe me, I know firsthand that there are many, many men who’ll gladly dive for pearls. I did not mean to imply that all of you guys were cooze-hating liars. I hate it when I make mistakes! Again, please accept my near-humble apology.

I am saying this with all the love and warmth e-mail can convey, not trying to be snotty about it, but the woman who was researching her boyfriend’s sexual hang-ups [Dategirl, Oct. 22] has a big problem herselfwhich is why she would want to be with any guy who is so fucked up. She needs to run, not walk, away from this guy. Your advice was good, but really, she needs to look at why she would even take time to use Google on a guy like this. That was the only missing piece in what you said.

I look at it this way: Men are in our lives to please us, just as we are in their lives to please them. And if the pleasing ain’t pleasing, don’t worry about why, just stop doing it.

Once again, said with love by one of the older women who read you regularly: I don’t like seeing women waste their time in untenable situations, and I know you don’t, either.

I’m being corrected all over the place here! Thank you for being all sensitive to my feelings and shit. That was very kind of you. Your letter was way nicer than this one dude who wrote in calling me a “dumb, sick, slut bitch.” You’re right I don’t like to see anybody waste their time in hopeless situations. I think I went a little soft on that reader because I was sitting in the chair right next to hers at the Dum Dum Club. See, in going easy on her, I was also being nice to me, when probably what she and I both need is a nice hard smack upside the head.

It’s hard when you meet someone you really like and feel connected to and, in spite of how much you care for them, it doesn’t work out. Sometimes you just need to find an answer. After my mom died, I got very impatient. I was so sick of being miserable that I went to the bookstore and emptied out the death and dying section. Sixty or so bucks later, all I learned was that having someone close to you die bites and you’re going to feel like ass for a while. (OK, none of the books puts it exactly like that, but you get my point.)

So yeah, she wasted too much time trying to diagnose her boyfriend’s nastiness, while I spent far too many hours trying to decipher my freak’s neuroses. When really, that reader and I should’ve been out having cocktails with nice, new, sane men . . . men who actually like going down on women and would never ever consider lying about it.

Don’t waste another minute: Write Dategirl at dategirl@seattleweekly.com or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western Ave., Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.