Hopelessly devoted

Dear Jen,

For the past five years, I've been in a relationship with a man 11 years my senior. We started dating when I was 19 and he was 30.

I use the term "dating" which means sex without commitment.

I'm in love with him.

He tells me he cares about me, but never uses the "L word." He insists that we don't define our relationship in conventional terms. But I'd love to shout from the rooftops that he's my guy. 

Do commitment-phobes ever turn around?

I've built a life around this man, and I wonder if he'll ever settle down with me. I've gone through several boyfriends and even came very close to moving in with one. But I always go back to my "Mr. Wonderful."

Will he ever come through or should I give up?

Waiting and Wondering


Dear Waiting,

When I first moved to Los Angeles seven years ago I was a train wreck. I was paralyzed by a broken heart, knew no one, was totally broke and had zero idea what the hell to do with my life.

At the time, my morning routine included 30 seconds on the rear bumper of my car hopping up and down like an ape. Apparently the fuel pump on my beloved '87 VW Golf had bitten the big one.

In order to get it to start, I had to "slosh the gas around to somehow to help push it into the engine."

My car had no grill (the automotive equivalent of no front teeth), one working door handle, two hubcaps and 198,000 miles. Even though I loved my car more than I loved most people, it seemed a little high-falutin to go out and buy it a new fuel pump.

It wasn't until it began stalling out in traffic that I decided to do something. A rush hour's worth of drivers screaming at me to move my car while I performed sexual acts on its rear end in flip flops, in my 30s was my rock bottom.

Finally my hippie friends the kind who re-use the same plastic bag 47 times took one look at my car, shook their heads and said, "Jen, it's time."

Nobody likes hearing that it's time to get rid of the thing they love. But if it's not working, it's not working.

You deserve someone who's going to scream your name from the rooftops, not some dude who's going to constantly validate your feelings of unworthiness.

If this guy wanted to be with you, he'd be with you. Otherwise, why didn't he come and steal your hand away when you almost moved in with someone else?

Humping him until he comes to and realizes you're the one for him may work. But it may not.

Since you can't predict what someone else is going to do, you can only give them the heave ho when they're not doing what you want.

Cut the brother loose. Get on with it.

Life's too precious to live it on someone else's terms. And life's too short to be humping the wrong guy.


Flirting with disaster

Dear Jen,

I'm a 26-year-old lesbian who has a huge crush on a straight girl. A crush that makes you lose your appetite, write stupid poetry and go wobbly at the knees.

She knows all about it although I don't know if she knows how serious I am. And even though it's a awkward, we even laugh about it.

She's recently hinted that she wouldn't mind experimenting with me, even though she's sure that she's not emotionally attracted to me and might just be in it for the sex.

I'm lost.

I'd love to sleep with her, but I also have an annoying tendency to attach to the people who share my bed, and I'm afraid that if we had sex, I'd fall more in love with her and things would become a real mess.

Meanwhile, the other half of my brain is screaming, "Go for it!" She makes me hotter than anyone I've ever known.

What should I do?

Can't See Straight


Dear Straight, Ain't life cruel?

It's constantly wagging rushes of instant gratification in our faces: hot married people, Vicodin, fast cars, corndogs, $700 shoes, cigarettes ...

But down the road, they all wind up costing us.

Self-discipline has a torturous, fun-free, anti-beer-for-breakfast reputation. Every time you practice it, you're being good to yourself. You are a disciple of yourself. You love your own flowing robes and will do whatever it takes to support and honor your journey through this life.

I salute you for admitting that if you sleep with this chick, you're setting yourself up for months maybe years of torture, depending on how hot she thinks the sex is. But remember, they're called "crushes" for a reason.

If you want to live through this one without getting flattened, start limiting your hang time. Refrain from drinking alcohol in her presence and date as many hot lesbians as you can get your hands on. Immediately.

But it's up to you. You have to decide if the thrill of nailing the object of your desire outweighs the Anne Heche syndrome.

Yes, there is the chance that once she gets a taste, she'll trade her straight ways for a more curvaceous journey. But she doesn't sound as open to that idea.

Forgo the corndog have a salad.

Sure, it's not as tasty. But down the road, you won't be doubled over in pain.

Jen Sincero lives in Venice Beach district of Los Angeles. She's a syndicated columnist and the author of "Don't Sleep with Your Drummer" (MTV Books) and "The Straight Girls Guide to Sleeping with Chicks" (Fireside).

E-mail: advice@jensincero.com



This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition September 14, 2007