Where have you been for the past six months? We miss you and need your advice.
Thanks for asking! Where I’ve been is the hell that is moving across the country with a husband and two kids and then trying to get the cable hooked up in our new home. By cable I mean all things movers, utilities, car buying and health insurance (etc., etc., etc.), but if “convoluted answers to straightforward questions” and “flushing hours of my life down the toilet” were Olympic events, [monopolistic communications conglomerate] would win the gold in both. I can’t name the company because when updating our renters’ insurance policy, I learned that writing an advice column is considered a liability risk–I could so easily get sued! Although I’m sure Heeb would cover my ass, I’m not taking any chances. It’s good to be back.
Do Jewish men cheat on their partners more than [men of] other religions? Of the five boyfriends I’ve had, the two Catholics were faithful, the three Jews (like me) were not. Not trying to stereotype, just wondering about the common experience.
Dear Had Enough,
So the Jews cheat and the Catholics are true. By any chance are you feeling pressure to marry within the tribe yet not ready to settle down because you’re still working through your issues? That’s the “common experience” here. It’s not strictly a Jewess stereotype, though. We may be predisposed to it since we excel at self-hatred, but every religion–any group identity, actually–has their version of this. Therefore the only bona fide we can extrapolate from your quirk is that it works for you: You like your altar boys corrupted by you only and your guys who don’t eat pork to pork around. Also you’d rather blame statistics then look inward.
True story: for me ’twas the goyim who cheated, while my pheromones repelled the pheromones of other Jews. Now I’m an atheist married to an agnostic, and our kids attend Hebrew school.
A childhood acquaintance on Facebook appears in her pictures to have gotten breast implants. She looks horrible, but I don’t want to secretly judge her because maybe she had breast cancer and didn’t publicize it. But every time she posts a bikini selfie from her boot camp class on the beach, I can’t help rolling my eyes. How can I learn to be less snarky?
Comfortable in My Own Skin
You can’t “sincerely” be asking me, of all people, how to be less snarky. This is about snark diplomacy: how much snark can you get away with before courting accusations of jealousy. Well, you can be snarky about your friend’s love of bikini selfies without judging her breasts. Unless the pictures are her way of making peace with her possibly post-cancer body. Hmmm. Maybe block her from your feed? Are you the kind of person who can avert her eyes from a car crash? If not, you’ll have to grow a little more comfortable in your skin. Only you know whether that entails a more rigorous exercise routine or a more empowered ownership of your snark. (RIP, Joan.)