Dear Bitter Becky,
I need your assistance to a very sticky situation; it has to potential to become even stickier, so a response is needed ASAP!
My life partner “Quinn” and I have been together for about 18 years now. I own a business and support the both of us. He doesn’t do anything at all, since getting fired from his job as a high school biology teacher several years ago (which is a whole separate letter). All he ever does is watches TV, spends his afternoons drinking alone at home, and is always well-sloshed when I get home.
Neither one of us is getting any younger, and while I work hard to keep myself together and fighting the age monster, he has just let himself go. He looks nothing like that hot guy I met at a pool party back in the early ’90s.
I’m just afraid to leave because I own a business; we have our townhouse, and have also invested in the apartment building next door way back when. We are tied together in so many other ways.
I am also frightened of what he might do if I get the courage to leave. And now he’s hired this 20something house boy named “Jake” that I cannot afford to pay for. However, “Jake” is young and sweet, and very good looking, SO good looking, like staring at the middle of the sun HOT. But I try not to think about him like that. I just don’t want to put the kid out, or leave him alone with my aging, drunken lover.
I feel trapped! Help!!!
Thanks for listening,
Oh boo frickin’ hoo. Waah, waah, waah…I have two men in my life. Girl, I’d be happy with one…that I didn’t have to pay to come over to my apartment to rub my bunions for a quarter. But, it is the literal price of beauty now, ain’t it? Suck on that, Jessica Simpson. So, you’re situation is one of the sticky variety, eh?
That reminds me…the air conditioning just plumb and went out in my spacious studio rental…guess, I’ll have to dig up another quarter from my couch cushions and have Jean-Paul either hose me off or fan me, either or is fine by me.
But, rummaging through all the discarded Cheetos and Snowball wrappers is just so time consuming. Tick tock, tick tock, whatever. I don’t see why J.P. can’t just dig through those damn cushions himself, since I am the one who pays, quarters don’t grow on trees you know!
Oh yes, back to your petty problem…and you ain’t the only one with houseboy troubles, now are ya?
As I see it, you need to adopt the old adage of “Dump that zero and get yourself a hero,” I think that came from the Bible or something…maybe it was a Will Ferrell movie? That reminds me, I’ve had Talladega Nights for six months from Netflix…can you believe that? Six. Months. It’s not like my phone is ringing off the hook with dates. I don’t even have a phone, as that is a luxury item, if ever I heard of one. Hand to Heaven, or Hell, is more like it for me, I’ve had a hard knock life, harder than that little no pupil-eyed beeyatch Annie – don’t get me started on her.
Ok, oh “Trapped” one, I see the stickiness of the situation at hand.
GROW A PAIR!
Dump the lazy-no-goodnick for Jake, he sounds like a slice of angel food cake (ooh, I could go for a piece right about now), and if things work out between the two of you – maybe we could go on a double date.
I can see it now – you, me, Jake, J.P., all noshing on an intimate supper at Taco Bell. Well that is if you don’t mind the constant odor of bad feet. His, not mine, surprisingly! It probably won’t happen, he don’t want nobody to know he even comes over to my place, things NEVER go my way. Oh, if the plan does pan, remember I ain’t got a phone; I have your address from the letter you sent, so I know how to find you. And, you’d better respond, or I will hunt you down!
Hope this helped you, I know that I feel better, and really, isn’t that the more important thing?
Worst Wishes (why should you have a good life, if I don’t?),
P.S. Make sure you get half of whatever “Quinn” (thank goodness that’s a fake name, ’cause it sounds like a cologne or somethin’) is worth in your apartment complex. He’ll be so drunk, he probably won’t even notice that you’re gone! And remember, you have your little business, which I imagine involves dressing up Chihuahuas in little costumes and then photographing them! You sicko!
Bitter Becky (real name withheld for legal reasons) received her counseling degree online, and was previously seen giving her “unique” brand of advice to audience members on “The Maury Povich Show.” Thus, the withholding of her identity, as several studio guests have pooled their resources and taken out a hit on her life. She currently lives alone in her “spacious” studio apartment, with her cat “Mr. Sprinkles,” and is a self-described “giver.” If you have any questions for Bitter Becky to answer, please send them to us.