Sex Advice Columnist Judy,

Three weeks ago, I started seeing this girl who lives here in Seattle. I’m worried because I think she likes me a lot more than I like her. The sex is fantastic (really, really, really), but outside of the bedroom I don’t have much to talk about with her. Meanwhile, my living-in-Paris impossible flame just embarked on an affair with a young British woman, and I find myself having horrible pangs of jealousy. Bwwaaaa! Should I jettison the sex thing because I’m obsessed with someone who lives in Paris who probably doesn’t care for me the way I care for her? But if I continue the thing with Sexbomb, she’ll want to get serious (I can totally see it coming already), and it could ruin all my hopes with the Parisian. I’m going to Paris for a week next month, by the way.

In angst,

Baffled in Belltown

Dearest Baffled,

Thank you so much for writing. I haven’t gotten any letters from girls who love girls in forever! Of course, a man would have never asked this question, which is probably why I find it so endearing. But I must set you straight (so to speak): You don’t give up good local booty on the off chance that some other broad who lives thousands upon thousands of miles away might someday reciprocate your feelings of love/lust/ obsession/whatnot. Aren’t you familiar with the old adage “A bush in the hand is worth two birds in Paris”?

So you keep banging the close-to-home honey. Next, then, and more importantly: Why have you chosen to fall for someone who resides on the other side of the planet? If you ask me, you’re lucky if you don’t rock Froggy’s world. Think of the phone bills! The tears every time you eat French fries! The sudden inexplicable affection for that most hideous of headgear, the beret!

This is gonna sound like Dr. Phil bullshit psychobabble, but maybe you’re focusing on Faraway Frenchie because you, like the rest of us, are afraid to get involved in a real relationship. You say you don’t have anything to talk to Seattle Sexbomb about, but how’d she charm her way into your bed in the first place? Perhaps you’re being too hasty in your dismissal. Relationships are rarely even-Steven in the who-likes-who-better department—why not enjoy being adored for a while? You’re on the road to fretting your way right out of this girlie’s bed, and that would be a shame. Amazing, hot sex is all too rare. You should enjoy the hell out of it while you’ve got it.

Dear Judy,

I just read your latest column— I wonder what people think as I attempt to stifle open laughter at the counter of the bakery where I get my coffee. Do you respond to the letters you receive in different ways? I picture you sitting, typing away, with a serious crease across your brow for some responses; then you just have to be laughing near hysterically as you write others. You must gather some of your fellow workers around the computer for those.

Just enjoying your stuff. Thank you.

H.H.H.

Thank you, H.H.H.

The life of an advice columnist is a glamorous one indeed. Far from having co-workers to gather around anything, I write this column from home. Right now I’m perched on my sofa, laptop balanced on lap, shifting about in extreme discomfort. My brow is not furrowed, nor am I laughing hysterically. I am not laughing, H.H.H., because for the last four days, I have not had plumbing in my building. This has meant no showers, no dishwashing, and, worst of all, no flushing. So unless I want my apartment to smell like a giant, festering turd, I’ve got to either hold it in or dump it elsewhere. I’m aware that most people have no problem strolling into a public bathroom, magazine in hand, and laying down some cable. Others, like myself, consider the act of defecation a more private matter. We are the few, the uncomfortable, the poo shy. Now what was your question?

What’s your question? Write Dategirl at dategirl@seattleweekly.com or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.