Dear Mr. Man-ners:
I have a question I’m hoping you can answer. My husband wants to have sex—in an unsavory way. I don’t want to have him stick that thing anywhere but where God intended it—that is, back in his underpants. And I don’t think he should stick it anywhere else—or even where the Bible says it should go—because we already have two kids. That’s enough. Still, he insists upon asking. “Can I do this? Can I do that?” And then he begs—I want to do this to you and that. Always promising “You will like it.” Well, I know I won’t like it. How do I avoid having sex anymore?
One in a Million
Dear One in a Million:
I’d say to give your man excuses like you’re having your womanly time. Or that you have a headache, but I’m sure you already used all these excuses up by now. Plus, well, though I’m no Bible thumper (just like you're not a husband thumper), I agree that a man should be able to have sex with his wife. If you’re really sure you don’t want him to “stick that thing anywhere” perhaps you're a lesbian. And if sex is just not your cup of tea (do you like it black or with cream?), well ,you’re only option is to get thee to a nunnery.
Mr. Man-ners
Dear Mr. Man-ners:
Didn’t you get it before? The reason I signed my name as "One in a Million" is that I’m not the only woman who feels this way. I have many girlfriends who feel the same way. And no, we are not part of some covert lesbian society. What a sick mind you have.
One in a Million
Dear One in a Million:
Okay, so maybe you’re not part of some covert lesbian society. But are you a part of some overt lesbian outreach group? Perhaps not. Perhaps you and your girlfriends are nuns. Ain’t got nun that was good enough yet. That’s what I have to say. Next!
Mr. Man-ners
Dear Mr. Man-ners:
How could you respond that way to One in a Million? She had a real problem. She was obviously going through menopause. Whenever she saw a man, she paused. If you get my drift.
One of the Men
Dear One of the Men:
That was just plain stupid. If she paused when she saw men, she wouldn’t be so quick to want to keep them fully clothed. Maybe she was going through naked menopause. But that’s another story.
Mr. Man-ners
Dear Mr. Man-ners:
Shame on you. Shame. Shame. Shame. One in a Million might have a real problem. And I’m not talking about lesbianism or her faith in God. She might be frigid. This problem can be treated with drugs and therapy. You’re supposed to help people, not make fun of them.
Disappointed in You
Dear Disappointed in You:
I’m disappointed in you, too. What would you have me do? Tell her to seek drug therapy? I’m no pusher.
Mr. Man-ners
Dear Mr. Man-ners:
You’re just another man. You don’t understand women? The only head you think with is the one below the belt. How did you get this job? Did you win it in a poker game? One in a Million
Dear One in a Million:
I got the job in a Cracker Jacks box. I was soooo lucky. So lucky, in fact, that I have to deal with women like you. All you want is for me to agree with your lame reasoning behind not having sex with your husband. Now if you’d said he beat you or cheated on you, well I might have had a different answer. Well probably not, especially if you wouldn’t give him any sex. I say “Give him sex, or give him the liberty to find sex wherever he wants.”
Mr. Man-ners
Dear Mr. Man-ners:
This is One in a Millions husband here. You made my wife cry. While I must admit, it’s frustrating not to get what I want—well I still don’t think you should offer mean advice.
One of the Men who Loves One in a Million
Dear One of the Men:
You are certainly not one of the men in my book. How many men actually love your wife (not too many is she's penis-shy)? And what does love have to do with sex? Your wife has you whipped. And it’s with something other than her sexual parts, because obviously you’re not getting any. My intent was not to make her cry—I was trying to make her change. All for you. If I’d known you were such a wuss, I would have told YOU to join the covert lesbian secret society.
Mr. Man-ners
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