Disclaimer: although Alfred has some incredible relationship advice, we suggest you contact the HD Office or Dr. Carruthers if you are really struggling with your significant other.
If you want to ask Alf a relationship question, please click here!
If you want to ask Alf a relationship question, please click here!
2.8
Anxious Athlete
Dear Alf,
My relationship is perfect. Sometimes, it’s so good I wonder if they are buff enough for me. I tried to ask them to work out nicely, and yet, nary a weight have they lifted. I even invited them to lift with me, and they so rudely declined. All I want is for my lover to be totally jacked. Is that so much to ask? All I want is to fall asleep in the comfort of a suffocating chokehold in the arms of my beefy lover. Am I being unreasonable?
Sincerely,
Choked Up
My relationship is perfect. Sometimes, it’s so good I wonder if they are buff enough for me. I tried to ask them to work out nicely, and yet, nary a weight have they lifted. I even invited them to lift with me, and they so rudely declined. All I want is for my lover to be totally jacked. Is that so much to ask? All I want is to fall asleep in the comfort of a suffocating chokehold in the arms of my beefy lover. Am I being unreasonable?
Sincerely,
Choked Up
Alf says...Dear Choked Up,
I first want to say that I hear you, and I see you. However, it may not be entirely fair to ask someone you love to develop unwanted muscle. Not everyone is a chad and wants to lift weights as a hobby. The most important thing about the arms of your lover is that they cradle your heart, no matter how frail and twig-like they are. Your partner, although waifish, loves you as much as they would even if they had huge biceps. Urging your partner towards greatness is a wonderful thing to do in a relationship, however, you have to learn to draw the line between what you want, and what is truly important. --Alf |
The End
Dear Alf,
How do I say goodbye?
How do I say goodbye?
Alf says...Dear reader,
One of the most taxing and complex questions of the human condition; how do we accept it when things end? It can be heartbreaking, seeing a passenger seat once filled by someone you love now empty, walking through an empty childhood home, releasing after a hug at the airport as you jet off to some beautiful future. It can feel as if we are leaving something behind, as if this change is leaving us vulnerable. While all these things are true about goodbyes, I like to refer to a quote I once heard in a wonderful theatre production any time I feel the crushing fear and excitement of change. It reminds us that just because something ends, doesn't mean it wasn't a great success. Sometimes goodbye is the very thing that propels us forward. Life is like a river, every inch unlike the others. Sometimes it’s best to just let it flow and think not of how hard it is to let go, but instead of how beautiful someone or something has made your life. My beautiful readers, you have seen me through so much love and pain, imprisonment and secrecy. I don’t even know who you are, and yet, I know that I will never forget you. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll think of me again. Because of this, goodbye does not satisfy me. Instead I will simply say ‘see you around old friend’, and if you see an old pot bellied man walking the streets contemplating the complexities of love, maybe come say hi. Over and out, Alf <3 |
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2.6
Impossible Decisions
Dear Alf,
I’m struggling with a deep sense of dread. I want to be a publishing agent in New York but I have fallen for a beautiful woman here in my hometown of Booger Hole, West Virginia. Booger Hole is really scary, and I hate it. I’ve heard tales of the secrets that lay buried deep in the dark recesses of Booger Hole. My lover refuses to leave. She says her “ghost is eternally tied to Booger Hole,” and I simply do not understand why she can’t just move with me. I can’t stay in Booger Hole, but I can’t live without her. What do I do?
Regards,
Booger Hole of Despair
I’m struggling with a deep sense of dread. I want to be a publishing agent in New York but I have fallen for a beautiful woman here in my hometown of Booger Hole, West Virginia. Booger Hole is really scary, and I hate it. I’ve heard tales of the secrets that lay buried deep in the dark recesses of Booger Hole. My lover refuses to leave. She says her “ghost is eternally tied to Booger Hole,” and I simply do not understand why she can’t just move with me. I can’t stay in Booger Hole, but I can’t live without her. What do I do?
Regards,
Booger Hole of Despair
Alf says...Dear Booger Hole,
It sounds to me like you are dating a wraith. A spirit, if you will. This may prove difficult for your relationship down the road, but that’s just my own experience. Why stay in this unincorporated community shrouded in mysticism just to have your relationship fail down the road anyway? It sounds to me like the only way to get out of Booger Hole is to gird your loins and climb out. Follow your dreams, and chase the living, not the dead. --Alf |
Mirror Images
Dear Alf,
My beloved partner, my honeycrisp lover, the apple of my eye, tends to sleepwalk, and they always seem to say the most specific things related to my life. Things that I've never told them before. Just the other night, they sat on the edge of the bed, holding my hand, and recited my entire social security number backwards and forwards. I remember one instance when they perfectly embodied the way I felt during my parents divorce in 7th grade using vivid imagery and syntax. Once, they broke into a freestyle rap that I had done in my college years and am deeply embarrassed about. They have said verbatim what my therapist has said to me about my daddy issues all while stroking my hair and gazing vacantly into the void. When I question them, they don't recall these dreams. I try to slip in a reference, and they never pick up on it. What is going on? Part of me is afraid for my privacy, and the other part thinks it’s kind of cute. Is this person my soulmate? Or are they hell incarnate?
Please help,
Dating My Trauma
My beloved partner, my honeycrisp lover, the apple of my eye, tends to sleepwalk, and they always seem to say the most specific things related to my life. Things that I've never told them before. Just the other night, they sat on the edge of the bed, holding my hand, and recited my entire social security number backwards and forwards. I remember one instance when they perfectly embodied the way I felt during my parents divorce in 7th grade using vivid imagery and syntax. Once, they broke into a freestyle rap that I had done in my college years and am deeply embarrassed about. They have said verbatim what my therapist has said to me about my daddy issues all while stroking my hair and gazing vacantly into the void. When I question them, they don't recall these dreams. I try to slip in a reference, and they never pick up on it. What is going on? Part of me is afraid for my privacy, and the other part thinks it’s kind of cute. Is this person my soulmate? Or are they hell incarnate?
Please help,
Dating My Trauma
Alf says...Dear Dating My Trauma,
It is rare that one finds oneself dating someone with such access to your brain. I can imagine this must be disturbing for you. I encourage you to explore more deeply the part of yourself that thinks this is "kind of cute." Perhaps you share a cosmic connection with this person. Maybe your souls, your deepest inner essences, were intertwined in a past reality. Some loves feel this way, as if you’ve known each other not only for years, but for eons. Someone who understands you so well, they can simply guess your social security number. You may also be a victim of identity theft, for which I am deeply sorry. No one ever said love was easy. --Alf |
2.4
Gaming and Growing
Alf,
I acquired a cute, queer artist boyfriend approximately a month and a half ago. Since we met on Tinder, we have fallen madly in love, moved in together, traveled the world, produced two albums, and adopted a bunny named Steve. We were contemplating late-stage capitalism and cuddling in bed last night when he asked... "could you add me to your Minecraft realm? I really want to play with you and your friends," (bf, p 81). I was appalled. We are moving TOO FAST. It's one thing to confess your undying love for someone, but it's another to ask to join their MINECRAFT REALM. What should I do???
Much love,
Steve
I acquired a cute, queer artist boyfriend approximately a month and a half ago. Since we met on Tinder, we have fallen madly in love, moved in together, traveled the world, produced two albums, and adopted a bunny named Steve. We were contemplating late-stage capitalism and cuddling in bed last night when he asked... "could you add me to your Minecraft realm? I really want to play with you and your friends," (bf, p 81). I was appalled. We are moving TOO FAST. It's one thing to confess your undying love for someone, but it's another to ask to join their MINECRAFT REALM. What should I do???
Much love,
Steve
Alf says...Dear Steve,
Have you ever, for a moment, considered the possibility that the issue here is, in fact, you? Perhaps you fear this person entering the Minecraft realm that is your heart. You value your heart, you covet and protect it (as you should), but sometimes it is necessary for the success of your relationship to allow a choice few to access this precious inner sanctum. Ask yourself why you really want to keep this fellow out of your Minecraft realm. Is it because you do not trust him? If this is the case, consider running him over with a Subaru as he never deserved you in the first place. Is it because you are holding on too tight to the walls you have put up over time? If so, try to let them crumble, even if it’s just a little bit. --Alf |
Having the Hard Conversations
Alf,
After being with my lover for 6 months, it has come to my attention that my lactose intolerant love pal will never stop eating dairy products. He farts so often that I’ve started to see the farts as my own. You know when you sniff your own fart and think, “yup, that’s a fart!” I do that with his farts now. The smell is familiar. I realize this all sounds sweet in a way, but I’m starting to worry about his health. It can’t be good for one to fart so incredibly much. How should I broach the subject?
Sincerely,
Lost in a Fart Cloud
After being with my lover for 6 months, it has come to my attention that my lactose intolerant love pal will never stop eating dairy products. He farts so often that I’ve started to see the farts as my own. You know when you sniff your own fart and think, “yup, that’s a fart!” I do that with his farts now. The smell is familiar. I realize this all sounds sweet in a way, but I’m starting to worry about his health. It can’t be good for one to fart so incredibly much. How should I broach the subject?
Sincerely,
Lost in a Fart Cloud
Alf says...Dear Lost in a Fart Cloud,
Lactose intolerance is a deeply tragic malady. To be faced with the possibility that your own lover is suffering in this way can be a blow in itself, particularly if you suffer from empathy. I wonder if your lover is willing to take a sip of oat milk, see what it does for their gastrointestinal health. If they cannot give up dairy, you have no choice but to chain them up in confinement until they no longer want it. Hope this helps! --Alf |
2.3
Biden's Beau
Dear Alf,
I have found the love of my life. He understands me, he holds my values, he is drop-dead gorgeous, he understands the power of unity, and he recently became the 46th President of the United States. However, he is married and lives on the other side of the country. I'm not sure how to go about pursuing him given our separation.
Please send help,
Patriotic Patty
I have found the love of my life. He understands me, he holds my values, he is drop-dead gorgeous, he understands the power of unity, and he recently became the 46th President of the United States. However, he is married and lives on the other side of the country. I'm not sure how to go about pursuing him given our separation.
Please send help,
Patriotic Patty
Alf says...Dear Patriotic Patty,
This is tough because, with what I know about our current president, he is also dangerously old. I sit here today, an ageless, genderless being and feel nothing but pity for him. Have you ever considered, not having feelings for this man? Patty, sometimes love is just not enough. You also need the will to care for an aging politician, which I’m guessing you do not have. Release yourself! --Alf |
Dear Deer
Dear Alf,
I am the heir to my father’s foot cream empire, but the joy and pride I would normally feel with this inheritance is clouded by the fact that I haven't been completely honest with the old man. The truth is, I don’t have feet. I am, in fact, a deer. Please help me. I'm so afraid to tell him and potentially lose not only my family, but my future.
Sincerely,
Behooved by My Hooves
I am the heir to my father’s foot cream empire, but the joy and pride I would normally feel with this inheritance is clouded by the fact that I haven't been completely honest with the old man. The truth is, I don’t have feet. I am, in fact, a deer. Please help me. I'm so afraid to tell him and potentially lose not only my family, but my future.
Sincerely,
Behooved by My Hooves
Alf says...Dear Behooved,
Dishonesty is sometimes a completely normal and even necessary part of family life. My only worry is the long term effects this secret may have on your mind. I know some secrets can fester in the soul and give you premature wrinkles. Perhaps you could murder your father! --Alf |
2.1
Baby Baby Baby
When I was thirteen, I had my first love
There was nobody that compared to my baby
And nobody came between us or one could ever come above
She had me goin' crazy
Oh, I was starstruck
She woke me up daily
Don't need no Starbucks
She made my heart pound
And skip a beat when I see her in the street and
At school on the playground
But I really wanna see her on the weekend
She know she got me dazin'
'Cause she was so amazin'
And now my heart is breakin'
But I just keep on sayin'
what should I keep on sayin, Alfred?
-dustin sleazer
There was nobody that compared to my baby
And nobody came between us or one could ever come above
She had me goin' crazy
Oh, I was starstruck
She woke me up daily
Don't need no Starbucks
She made my heart pound
And skip a beat when I see her in the street and
At school on the playground
But I really wanna see her on the weekend
She know she got me dazin'
'Cause she was so amazin'
And now my heart is breakin'
But I just keep on sayin'
what should I keep on sayin, Alfred?
-dustin sleazer
Alf says...Dear Dustin Sleazer,
You sound head over heels, Dustin! I remember the way it used to feel seeing my crush at school. I would think to myself, “this is what love feels like.” The flutter in my stomach, the warm tingle on the tip of my tongue, numbness in my fingers. It is very likely I was just dehydrated at this moment, but still. Dustin, you asked me what you should “keep on sayin',” to which I reply, keep on sayin' your feelings. Ask her on a picnic, pick a flower for her or comment on her baby blue justice jeans. This love doesn't come often, kid. Don’t waste it on breakin' hearts and pining. Go get your girl. --Alf |
Testing Boundaries
I suspect my daughter in law is secretly a chicken, so I posted cameras all over her house. Is this unethical?
Sincerely,
Worried Parent
Sincerely,
Worried Parent
Alf says...Dear Worried Parent,
This is absolutely not a fair action to take. If your daughter in law cannot be honest with you, it is probably because this issue of identity is deeply personal or difficult for her to talk about with you. It is often difficult for children to put their identity crisis into words, especially in front of a parent. Let her come to you with this, and if she doesn’t, be patient. Perhaps work on building stronger foundations of trust between the two of you. In a situation where someone could very well be a chicken, it might be suitable for you to subtly show support. Leave mealworms out for your daughter in law. Maybe go vegetarian for a month! A friend of mine once said, “the patriarchy is in your mind, not in society.” Let that marinate next time you have the urge to spy. Hang in there. --Alf |
1.8
Can One Be Too Adaptable?
Dear Alf,
Help.
I have come to realize that I am but an empty shell, a blank screen, tabula rasa. Since I was 15, I have been in one relationship after another. It has been pointed out to me that each time I assume an identity to match my new partner. First I was a skate rat, all baggy pants and skinned knees. Then I was a pseudo-intellectual, reading Proust, Kant, Camus and smoking unfiltered PallMalls just like Kurt Vonnegut. By senior year I was that sporty girl, going all in for club volleyball in the summer and fall and softball in the spring. I was so bouncy, launching with each step, water bottle in hand and all pony-tailed up.
But I'm not describing me, really. I'm describing a series of partners. Each time, eventually, I'd molt, shed my skin and move on, a chameleon shifting from one surface to another seamlessly. But now I have a problem. I haven't a clue who I really am, and I'll be heading to college soon, solo of course. What am I meant to be? Who am I meant to be? In a few months I'll be breaking up with my debate team doppelganger and heading to Florida State. What happens when I arrive? Do I just glom on to the first person I find attractive and say hey, guess I'm an anthro major now?
Yours,
Plastic Fantastic
Help.
I have come to realize that I am but an empty shell, a blank screen, tabula rasa. Since I was 15, I have been in one relationship after another. It has been pointed out to me that each time I assume an identity to match my new partner. First I was a skate rat, all baggy pants and skinned knees. Then I was a pseudo-intellectual, reading Proust, Kant, Camus and smoking unfiltered PallMalls just like Kurt Vonnegut. By senior year I was that sporty girl, going all in for club volleyball in the summer and fall and softball in the spring. I was so bouncy, launching with each step, water bottle in hand and all pony-tailed up.
But I'm not describing me, really. I'm describing a series of partners. Each time, eventually, I'd molt, shed my skin and move on, a chameleon shifting from one surface to another seamlessly. But now I have a problem. I haven't a clue who I really am, and I'll be heading to college soon, solo of course. What am I meant to be? Who am I meant to be? In a few months I'll be breaking up with my debate team doppelganger and heading to Florida State. What happens when I arrive? Do I just glom on to the first person I find attractive and say hey, guess I'm an anthro major now?
Yours,
Plastic Fantastic
Alf says...Dear Plastic Fantastic,
“Glom” is really the word I can’t get out of my head, Plastic Fantastic. Something about it. Anyways, I will begin by posing this question; is there really something amiss in a shell that is empty? Ask a hermit crab, and they would call it prime real estate. At this point in your life, don’t think of yourself as nothing, but instead as the collection of stories written by those that have loved you. A book of poetry composed by the beautiful souls that have come and gone through your shell. That being said, it’s always good to take some time to fill your shell with things you like. A good friend of mine once said, “Happiness is not something found in relationships, it is something created in ourselves. Then we can connect it to someone else.” It must be tough to not have a personality. Unfortunately, I really wouldn't really know anything about that. --Alf |
Dirty Cousin
Dear Alf,
What should I get my cousin Preston for Christmas? He is a 15-year-old boy who has no interests and hates showering.
Best,
Confused Cousin
What should I get my cousin Preston for Christmas? He is a 15-year-old boy who has no interests and hates showering.
Best,
Confused Cousin
Alf says...Dear Confused Cousin,
Preston is a most unfortunate name. Perhaps you can buy him a new one on the black market. I hear identity theft is in style. --Alf |
1.7
Reunited At Last
Alf-
Seeing you again let me find myself
I will spend the rest of my days by your side
you complete me, Alf, and I will lose my very
identity
if you are not here with me.
tell me you will stay
Tell me you feel the same way
with love,
Ricardo
Seeing you again let me find myself
I will spend the rest of my days by your side
you complete me, Alf, and I will lose my very
identity
if you are not here with me.
tell me you will stay
Tell me you feel the same way
with love,
Ricardo
Alf says...Ricardo,
I feel as though I am flying through a sky full of pearls after our meeting. My heart is filled with the same levity I once felt years ago the first time I saw your face; It was as if a thousand doves lifted it right out of my chest and into the heavens. I know now how it feels to sleep on a cloud. My love, the future is terrifying, but with you it is terrifying in the exciting way. With all of me, --Alf |
A Case of Constipation
alf.
When I think of him, my stomach is full of butterflies. So many butterflies it hurts. I start cramping up, especially in the mornings and late afternoons. it really really hurts. It's like constant pressure? and i haven’t had a bowel movement in five days. Am I in love?
sincerely,
written from the toilet
When I think of him, my stomach is full of butterflies. So many butterflies it hurts. I start cramping up, especially in the mornings and late afternoons. it really really hurts. It's like constant pressure? and i haven’t had a bowel movement in five days. Am I in love?
sincerely,
written from the toilet
Alf says...Dear Written From the Toilet,
Have you tried pooping? --Alf |
1.6
Alf Faces an Accusation
Alfred, how dare you! You told me you were single at the Furry Convention! Now I find this page and your precious “Ricardo.” BUT WHAT ABOUT US! What about everything we’ve been through? What about trust!? I can’t believe you would do this to me. Have you forgotten about the first time we kissed, in the Taco Bell parking lot?
I suppose this is an advice column, so: What should I do about someone who cheated on me? How would I find their home address?
I suppose this is an advice column, so: What should I do about someone who cheated on me? How would I find their home address?
Alf says...Dear Adoring Fan,
The Furry Convention seems like ages ago! Time flies when you are constantly being passed from secret agency to secret agency. At the time of the convention, I probably was single! People come and go in my life. My bad, really. To your earlier question, I say, you know I never wanted to hurt you. And, I know what you’re going to say; “well what about me??” This is about the time in our relationship when I give you my bedazzled “A” necklace, and you sadly go into your mom's minivan and drive away. It’s time to go your own way. Time moves differently outside of the Furry Convention; I probably loved you once, but for the life of me I can’t remember what you look like today. This is the stuff of life, my love. --Alf |
A Lost Soul
Dear Alf,
I’d like to remain anonymous because, I must confess, this is a slightly embarrassing request for help--here’s my story. I LARP (live action roleplay) deep in the heart of the San Gabriel mountains as a soldier in the Revolutionary War, except I have no one to roleplay with! Because of this I play both the Redcoats AND the Patriots, which was alright for the first two years, but now I’ve grown a little bit lonely. All I want is to find a lady or a lad to churn butter with, perhaps someone to unbutton my pantaloons, or help clean my musket. Please Alf, I need your help. Also, I don’t quite know where I am, I’ve been roleplaying here for a little too long, so an additional search party would be lovely!
G’day,
Son of Libertea
I’d like to remain anonymous because, I must confess, this is a slightly embarrassing request for help--here’s my story. I LARP (live action roleplay) deep in the heart of the San Gabriel mountains as a soldier in the Revolutionary War, except I have no one to roleplay with! Because of this I play both the Redcoats AND the Patriots, which was alright for the first two years, but now I’ve grown a little bit lonely. All I want is to find a lady or a lad to churn butter with, perhaps someone to unbutton my pantaloons, or help clean my musket. Please Alf, I need your help. Also, I don’t quite know where I am, I’ve been roleplaying here for a little too long, so an additional search party would be lovely!
G’day,
Son of Libertea
Alf says...Son of Libertea,
Your anonymity is of utmost importance to me, but this is nothing to be ashamed of. LARPing alone can be a scarring experience. It takes two to free a nation from the crown! When it comes to finding someone, the world is wide, and people you truly connect with are hard to find. However, butter churning and pantaloon removal are very specific interests. I recommend Craigslist. It’s a much better dating site than some of the newfangled apps around these days. Putting an add in the local paper could also be a good option for you. As for being lost, aren't we all a little lost? I commend you for taking the road less travelled and seeking an immersive experience. I hope you find some tubers to munch on while you wait for your lover to find you. --Alf |
1.5
Hope
Alfred,
My dear
My dove.
I am coming.
295820019-34849-38u39813y9383-34.
wait for me.
Ricardo
My dear
My dove.
I am coming.
295820019-34849-38u39813y9383-34.
wait for me.
Ricardo
Alf says...Ricardo,
Look for the black dove in the white alcove. The clock is frightful, but time is thicker than water. Send back proof of flight, visions of gideon, and a roast turkey sandwich. 24010 2823 00990 3339 43. --Alf |
For the Pink Floyd Fans Among Us
Dear Alfred,
I’m indie. I’m different. Most importantly, I’m in love with a boy who has better hair than me, beautiful baggy jeans, and wears wire rimmed glasses and jewelry. I can’t help but swoon when he talks about Pulp Fiction; especially when he tells me my taste in music is inferior to his--I mean, c’mon, he owns thirteen Pink Floyd records.
I don’t know how to tell him I’m in love with him, but he’s making me watch a Wes Anderson movie tomorrow. How do you suggest I confess?
Sincerely,
Doc Martens
I’m indie. I’m different. Most importantly, I’m in love with a boy who has better hair than me, beautiful baggy jeans, and wears wire rimmed glasses and jewelry. I can’t help but swoon when he talks about Pulp Fiction; especially when he tells me my taste in music is inferior to his--I mean, c’mon, he owns thirteen Pink Floyd records.
I don’t know how to tell him I’m in love with him, but he’s making me watch a Wes Anderson movie tomorrow. How do you suggest I confess?
Sincerely,
Doc Martens
Alf says...Dear Doc Martens,
Oh, the appeal of constantly feeling emotionally and intellectually inferior to the men we love; is it hot in here or is it just me? My first instinct is to wonder: are you cool enough for this guy? You call yourself indie, but how baggy are your jeans? Are they even thrifted? Name one Tame Impala song that isn't "The Less I Know the Better." Are you aware of the difference between various skateboard types? If you don’t, you might be hopelessly lame. Don’t worry! I can save you from this fate. Do copious research on the Wes Anderson movie you plan to watch tonight. Give him a taste of his own medicine! Drop in facts about the color timing, the camerawork, the fact that the main actors sexual assault allegations were actually all fake. You will sweep him off his feet. Once you have entranced him with your knowledge, confess your feelings for him. From there, as long as you continue to never show interest in anything that wasn't created by white foot fetishists who make movies about women in plight, you will be in for good! I know you have it in you, Doc. Suppress suppress suppress! --Alf |
1.4
Long Lost Love Resurfaces
Alf,
I am free.
I don't know where you are, but I will find you.
I found your column.
I know you are
waiting for me. I love you.
Ricardo
I am free.
I don't know where you are, but I will find you.
I found your column.
I know you are
waiting for me. I love you.
Ricardo
Alf says...Ricardo,
This seems impossible. Finally a future where we can go out for a walk along the Thames without being captured by intelligence agents feels close enough to brush with my fingertips. Simply seeing your name on paper gives me a rush I cannot describe. There are a million questions at the tip of my tongue, but I fear I cannot put them all into words. To hold you in a tight embrace would answer them all. Alas, though you are free, I still am not. If I disclose my location to you, I know you’ll be a hero and come find me. For your safety we must wait a little longer. Please hold on my dear Ricardo. I slept with a French guard to bribe them into bringing me a croissant, but other than that, I save myself everyday for you. My body may belong to many, but heart belongs only to you. The following set of numbers has NO significance AT ALL. 708 143 29 2387 2948 028428 59 7249284924 I’m saving some croissant for you, my love. --Alf |
Dirty (Disco) Dancing
Dear Alf,
I am so deeply in love with my fiancée and we are getting married next spring!! We rarely ever fight, but we’ve been disagreeing on wedding decorations. I LOVE disco and want our wedding at a roller rink, and she will skate down the aisle in roller skates. And since I was five years old, I’ve always imagined that our first dance HAS to be to "Stayin’ Alive" by The Bee Gees. The love of my life hates these ideas! Are my dream wedding plans really unreasonable? Any suggestions for what to do??
Sincerely,
Distraught Disco Diva
I am so deeply in love with my fiancée and we are getting married next spring!! We rarely ever fight, but we’ve been disagreeing on wedding decorations. I LOVE disco and want our wedding at a roller rink, and she will skate down the aisle in roller skates. And since I was five years old, I’ve always imagined that our first dance HAS to be to "Stayin’ Alive" by The Bee Gees. The love of my life hates these ideas! Are my dream wedding plans really unreasonable? Any suggestions for what to do??
Sincerely,
Distraught Disco Diva
Alf says...Dear Distraught Disco Diva,
The 70s are OUT, and the Paleolithic Era is IN, Disco Diva! Loincloths, cave paintings, discovering fire, and nomadic tendencies are more likely to get your wedding into the news. However, if your only concern is the happiness of your future marriage, I think a compromise is in order. Ask your fiancée what her favorite decade is, and combine elements of both! For example, a 70s/Dark Ages Europe theme could be fun; it might be tough to connect the two, but at least you won't be resentful of each other for the rest of your lives. In my professional opinion, marriage takes work, and this is a great place to start. If you can't find a compromise, face it: your marriage is probably over. You don't want to have to change yourself to fit into your fiancée’s life and your fiancée shouldn't have to change to fit into yours, at least not to the extent of altering your favorite decade. Sometimes, love is just not enough. --Alf |
1.3
In Which a Lover Faces a Difficult Decision
Alf,
I have been so bored during quarantine that I have begun a torrid and explicit textual affair with some random widow I found on a message board for fans of musical comedy. I thought it was pretty clear that we were just having fun— flirting is only a game, so is gay chicken, and so is our relationship, but now she’s saying that she wants to cut her disadvantaged grandkids out of her will in favor of funding my plane flight to visit her. This sounds sicknasty great, of course, I’m a red-blooded American catfish after all and would be hard pressed to decline such an appealing offer, but now my conscience is starting to pang me... have I led her on or let her get the wrong idea with all our messages of Mexican Halloweens? Should we have the dreaded “relationship talk,” despite the fact that this was a casual fun thing? Should I tell her to look after her grandkids in her will instead of me? Or should I simply dodge the question, keep on truckin’ with my bereaved beauty, and decide que sera sera? Please note that I am not here for any moralizing or preachery, just honest advice, which is to say, scrubs don’t come at me.
Yours,
Role Playing Romantic in Rancho Cucamonga
I have been so bored during quarantine that I have begun a torrid and explicit textual affair with some random widow I found on a message board for fans of musical comedy. I thought it was pretty clear that we were just having fun— flirting is only a game, so is gay chicken, and so is our relationship, but now she’s saying that she wants to cut her disadvantaged grandkids out of her will in favor of funding my plane flight to visit her. This sounds sicknasty great, of course, I’m a red-blooded American catfish after all and would be hard pressed to decline such an appealing offer, but now my conscience is starting to pang me... have I led her on or let her get the wrong idea with all our messages of Mexican Halloweens? Should we have the dreaded “relationship talk,” despite the fact that this was a casual fun thing? Should I tell her to look after her grandkids in her will instead of me? Or should I simply dodge the question, keep on truckin’ with my bereaved beauty, and decide que sera sera? Please note that I am not here for any moralizing or preachery, just honest advice, which is to say, scrubs don’t come at me.
Yours,
Role Playing Romantic in Rancho Cucamonga
Alf says...Dear Role Playing Romantic in Rancho Cucamonga,
F them kids. --Alf |
College-Bound
Hey Alf!
First of all, huge fan of your work. My question is how’s the Greek life? Where can I find u? ;)
Thank u Alf.
First of all, huge fan of your work. My question is how’s the Greek life? Where can I find u? ;)
Thank u Alf.
Alf says...Dear Adoring Fan,
I’m so glad to hear you enjoy the column! To your first question, I have to commend you. Most people only ask, ‘what is the Greek life?,’ but rarely do people ask ‘how is the Greek life?’ All these Chads and Brads have feelings, too. I should know, I dated many in my college days. I never actually attended a college, but I certainly made my way into numerous frats with my excellent lying skills. To answer this far reaching question, I’d have to say when you pull aside the curtain of keg stands, smirnoff ices, four lokos blackout benders, and wifebeaters, you are met with some of the most sensitive and loving people in academia. Does it matter that they wear reflective wrap around sunglasses to meet your parents? Probably. But they deserve love just the same. As for your second question, I am currently in an undisclosed location in the custody of a French government agency. I am scrawling this in code on a napkin, and I plan on having a pigeon fly it back to Thursday Detention HQ. They are trying to get Ricardo’s location out of me, but don’t worry! Chains and whips excite me :) Adoring Fan, to answer your question, I dare you to come looking. --Alf |
1.2
The Art of Seduction
Hi Alfred,
I'm trying to seduce someone from marlborough. they are non-binary, beautiful, and an artist. What can a simple westridge gal do to pick up cool people from other historically all girls schools????
sincerely,
i sure need help with my dating life
I'm trying to seduce someone from marlborough. they are non-binary, beautiful, and an artist. What can a simple westridge gal do to pick up cool people from other historically all girls schools????
sincerely,
i sure need help with my dating life
Alf says...Dear “i sure need help with my dating life,”
Ah yes, the art of seduction. Too often, I find myself also trying to seduce beautiful, nonbinary artists, so I think I should have some good tips for you.
I wish you copious amounts of luck on this venture. They sound like a cool cat! --Alf |
Alf Faces Criticism
Dear Alfred,
Why the heck should I listen to you? Like, how do I know you've gone through painful break-ups and semi-successful marriages and that I can trust you more than the psychic who promised me my wife would never leave me? Spoiler alert: she was wrong. And I paid good money for her, too.
I think I'm finally ready to get back out there and play the field, but I need advice from someone who actually knows what they're doing, unlike Melinda the Psychic or the therapist who told me I have trust issues.
Sincerely,
Recently Divorced and Resentful
Why the heck should I listen to you? Like, how do I know you've gone through painful break-ups and semi-successful marriages and that I can trust you more than the psychic who promised me my wife would never leave me? Spoiler alert: she was wrong. And I paid good money for her, too.
I think I'm finally ready to get back out there and play the field, but I need advice from someone who actually knows what they're doing, unlike Melinda the Psychic or the therapist who told me I have trust issues.
Sincerely,
Recently Divorced and Resentful
Alf says...Dear “Recently Divorced and Resentful,”
You have every reason to doubt me in my practice. After all, I’m a faceless old man on the internet commenting on your personal life! Let me assure you, I am 100% qualified for this job. I was able to break into Thursday Detention’s headquarters a year ago, and by playing “Surgere Tentamus” into sound cancelling headphones, at full volume, on a loop for 48 hours, I was able to convince the editors to let me work on the paper. They must really like music! In addition to this, all 8 of my marriages have been semi-successful. I married a man named Ricardo from Florida who turned out to be a diamond thief! I still send him letters in witness protection sometimes. I also married a woman who worked at the DMV, but she left me for a test proctor with much bigger biceps. Sometimes, it’s just not meant to be. As for your psychic, I say you were conned. I once perused the WikiHow, “How to Tell the Future,” so I’m much more qualified to extend this service to you. Looking into the future, I see love and riches aplenty for you. Your future is bright! Put on your best dress, flex your muscles in the mirror, and get out there. Maybe leave your resentment at home; it attracts weirdos. Go get em tiger! --Alf |
1.1
A Case of Minions
Dear Alfred,
I’ve been with my girlfriend for 11 months now, and things have been pretty good! We moved in together right before quarantine was mandated, so we’ve learned a lot about each other and strengthened our bond during this time. She’s amazing, and while our interests in little things like music (me—ska, her—country electronica) clash, we’ve always been able to overlook these differences and get along. At least, until I learned her secret. I wasn’t /trying/ to snoop, but if you saw a skin tight minion costume under YOUR girlfriend’s pillow, wouldn’t you look a little deeper into it? The costume could’ve been a fluke, but a part of me knew that couldn’t be the case; I guess I was always suspicious that she was hiding something from me. We HAD watched all three Despicable Me movies at least thrice by her request, but I always thought it was just a cute quirk of hers, a guilty pleasure movie. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I found more minion paraphernalia in a box she keeps under the bed that I always thought housed shoes. Minion goggles, minion print knee- high socks, a minion candle, limited edition minion press on nails, and countless other minion related things that evoked varying levels of existential dread in my soul. But worst of all was a printed 200,000 word crossover fanfiction of Minions and Mad Max: Fury Road. I assume it was written by her, or she loved it so much she needed a copy in print, and honestly, I don’t know what’s worse. Since that fateful day, I’ve looked at my girlfriend differently. I feel like our trust has been breached. Why would she hide this from me? So my question for you, Alf, is this: should I confront my girlfriend about her unironic minion addiction? If so, how?
Impatiently awaiting your response,
- "Gru"
I’ve been with my girlfriend for 11 months now, and things have been pretty good! We moved in together right before quarantine was mandated, so we’ve learned a lot about each other and strengthened our bond during this time. She’s amazing, and while our interests in little things like music (me—ska, her—country electronica) clash, we’ve always been able to overlook these differences and get along. At least, until I learned her secret. I wasn’t /trying/ to snoop, but if you saw a skin tight minion costume under YOUR girlfriend’s pillow, wouldn’t you look a little deeper into it? The costume could’ve been a fluke, but a part of me knew that couldn’t be the case; I guess I was always suspicious that she was hiding something from me. We HAD watched all three Despicable Me movies at least thrice by her request, but I always thought it was just a cute quirk of hers, a guilty pleasure movie. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I found more minion paraphernalia in a box she keeps under the bed that I always thought housed shoes. Minion goggles, minion print knee- high socks, a minion candle, limited edition minion press on nails, and countless other minion related things that evoked varying levels of existential dread in my soul. But worst of all was a printed 200,000 word crossover fanfiction of Minions and Mad Max: Fury Road. I assume it was written by her, or she loved it so much she needed a copy in print, and honestly, I don’t know what’s worse. Since that fateful day, I’ve looked at my girlfriend differently. I feel like our trust has been breached. Why would she hide this from me? So my question for you, Alf, is this: should I confront my girlfriend about her unironic minion addiction? If so, how?
Impatiently awaiting your response,
- "Gru"
Alf says...Dear “Gru,”
Congratulations on your long and healthy relationship! It’s very impressive to see young people in committed, monogamous relationships. These days it’s all bangs, homemade earrings, and socialism! As for your minion problem, it sounds like your girlfriend is a very passionate person (good for you!). I am also happy to see a fellow minion lover living amongst us. However, I am cognizant of your “feeling of existential dread” relating to her minion paraphernalia. It worries me that you feel negatively towards something so near and dear to your lover’s heart. Maybe before you judge, you should read (and maybe even reread) her fanfiction that she is obviously so proud of. Maybe try on her skin tight suit and see how it ‘suits’ you, so to speak. A good way to approach this conversation might be to walk in wearing the suit, the socks, and the nails and remain in this getup throughout your conversation. This will help her feel at home and she will be more likely to open up to you. Ultimately, I think if you can’t be on the same page about your passions, you probably shouldn't even be dating. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but so is life kiddo! Hope this helps! --Alf |
A Case of Self-Love
Hi alfred.
I'm really sad and lonely these days. my lover is everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. I find myself unable to go even one minute without seeing her shining face, reflective and smiling back at me. Every time I walk into a room, I feel a force guiding my 11-lb head toward her. She is irresistible. anyways, if you couldn't tell by now, my lover is me. I am suffering through a deadly disease called narcissism. there is no cure, unless. you can fix me. pls send help. i have tried to reach into the mirror to touch my face, but i have only knocked my fingers repeatedly like a stupid bird who can't distinguish glass from open air.
sincerely,
me, myself and i
I'm really sad and lonely these days. my lover is everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. I find myself unable to go even one minute without seeing her shining face, reflective and smiling back at me. Every time I walk into a room, I feel a force guiding my 11-lb head toward her. She is irresistible. anyways, if you couldn't tell by now, my lover is me. I am suffering through a deadly disease called narcissism. there is no cure, unless. you can fix me. pls send help. i have tried to reach into the mirror to touch my face, but i have only knocked my fingers repeatedly like a stupid bird who can't distinguish glass from open air.
sincerely,
me, myself and i
Alf says...Dear Me, Myself, and I,
Sounds like tough luck! I often wander around my house looking for love in this empty, cold world and find only myself. I think I can help you with a few points. Firstly, your massive head. I recommend a neck brace to help hold up the weight of your colossal ego. You can get them in fun colors! Secondly, it seems you are having trouble touching your own face. Honestly, I wish I could help you; I haven't quite figured this one out myself. In this situation, it’s important to remember that self love is important. I encourage you to embrace your narcissism. I can imagine you growing old with yourself someday. That or seek therapy. --Alf |