I’m sure this won’t be the only response you receive regarding your advice to OBGYN, the pro-choice girl whose pro-life boy refused to have intercourse with her unless she agreed to have the baby if she got pregnant. Why? Because your advice was totally fucked-up. I take 95 percent of what could be considered liberal positions, Dan, but I happen to be pro-life. For those of us who are pro-life, a fetus is more than a political issue. It truly is a life. Obviously this is the case with OBGYN’s boyfriend. What you call his being “controlling,” I call his being honest and up-front with his beliefs.
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But there’s a point that my furious readers, both pro- and anti-choice, seemed to overlook: I was fucked-up when I wrote that column, and I said so: “I’m so hungover I can barely hold my head up. It hurts to think, and I probably shouldn’t be operating a laptop in this condition . . .”
Still, I stand by my advice, however impaired I was when I wrote it. What’s more, PSG, I specifically reject your characterization of my advice for OBGYN. I didn’t advise her to lie to her controlling boyfriend, get pregnant, and then have an abortion. Let’s go to the videotape: “So if you do stay with him, and you agree and/or pretend to agree to his conditions . . .” See? I didn’t tell her to lie. I merely laid out lying as one of her options. I then went on to tell OBGYN to use condoms, take the pill, get a diaphragm, and cross her fingers. If she takes my advice on using every available means of birth control at her disposal, she won’t have to worry about getting an abortion.
Let me get this straight. A girl loves a boy. They have a “sincere moral disagreement” about abortion. Boy adopts an arguably principled stand–i.e., I won’t fuck you unless I know it won’t lead to an abortion–a position you yourself endorsed in a previous column. Girl faces quandary, asks your advice. Your response? Fuck him, what’s he gonna do about it? What?!!
Because they’re there? Because I can? Here’s the whole truth, BABW: Our team was losing in the eighth, so we ducked out early. On our way to a cab our team tied it up, and we dashed into a bar–me, the boyfriend, the kid–where we watched the rest of the game, which went on for extra innings and extra beers.
I noticed you insulted a certain advice seeker by calling him an “unbelievable pussy.” What have you got against unbelievable pussy, anyway? –Pussy Lover
