I'm pretty well-versed in womenspeak, so allow me to translate. I'm not in love with you actually means I met a hot stranger in the Dulles International Airport Bennigan's last trip and wound up fucking him in the baby changing station near gate 15C. Whereas she said I don't think I can love again she actually meant I love the attention I get from you and will string you along for company when I'm lonely but I just discovered how to ejaculate during orgasm and have stocked up on condoms and birth control pills for my next trip. It's a subtle difference, so I can see how you might have thought you heard something else.

Women love attention, and you slowly falling for her, finding her jokes funny, seeing her physical imperfections as sexy, being charmed by her every little flaw and neurosis is like crack to a crackhead. However, while you might think her body's a wonderland, for her it's more like Six Flags — sister is definitely getting laid elsewhere. We all want our toast buttered on both sides, honey, so either enjoy the ride while it lasts (and get tested regularly) or move on.

Bravo to you for having sense of self enough to know you're still in love with your ex. And double bravo to them for managing to dump your ass and still get your goodies whenever they want.

Here's something novel for you both to try. Seeing as you've been just about everything else to one another — friends, fuck buddies, lovers, intimates, bitter exes — why don't you try being the one thing you haven't been yet? Namely, strangers. Stay the hell out of each others' lives for five seconds. This isn't fucking "Will & Grace", honey.

Farting on your friend's pillow is always a good one. Or signing them up to the Lillian Vernon catalogathon. Or you could always send them a grim STD card in this slut enemy's name.

But if you really want to make your friend pay — I mean really make them rue the day they were born — then just continue being the vengeful, petty, controlling, shrill, venomous, nagging, insecure, vituperous shrew you so obviously are. That's punishment enough for anyone.

Let me see if I've got this straight. You've been with this guy for two years now and the best way you can think of describing your relationship is that it keeps you relatively happy? Your problem isn't with crushes, honey — it's with listening. Hold on; I've got call-waiting. Yeah, it's your body on the other line and it wants to you to FUCKING DUMP HIM ALREADY. Either that or get married. You already make each other miserable and have horrible, painful sex together; you might as well get a toaster oven out of it.

Sure Mr. Man is all hot and suave and ass-friendly right now. But take it from me, honey — it never lasts. And memories of how concerned you were with unpleasant odors during sex will be small consolation when he's knuckle-deep in his secretary's Choco-Taco. Now imagine that earlier, back before it all went south — oops! — you took a huge, steaming, jalapeño-inspired dump in his lap. Nobody can take that away from you. The sad truth about relationships is that one person invariably ends up shitting all over the other — better him than you, I say.

She shot you down, didn't she? Quelle surprise. You might consider easing up on that whole "FUCK YOU FOR REJECTING ME YOU FUCKING STUCK-UP CUNTLESS WHORE-BITCH" thing you've got going on. You know, work the "non-homicidal" angle the ladies all seem to fancy.

Think of this as a blessing in disguise. Dating your boss is always tricky territory, so much more so when you're frothing with sexual rage. Turn your sights instead toward someone who won't make you feel quite so inadequate, someone who wants the best for you, who'll always be on your side. And if your mom isn't interested maybe she has a sister.

Honey, please. In this rarified age of the internet and its myriad wonders (Jeff Stryker singing his country classic Pop You in the Pooper, for example) your little "first-date-with-the-parents-at-a-tittie-bar" story is downright quaint. Except for the part where you ate oysters at fucking Hooters. Holy Christ. On sale no less. I think I saw that once on Fear Factor. Just so you know, properly-prepared raw oysters have neither hair nor teeth nor fingers, nor should they smell like crotch.

Lesbians always want to "try you out", huh? Let me guess: they're blonde, beautiful, and could suffocate a sasquatch with their double-Ds. And they have a twin sister they like to fuck. While you watch and jerk off. Right. Honey, if the lesbians actually do want to fuck you, it's because a) you look like a lesbian, b) they're using you to get to your sister, or c) they want to remind themselves why they stopped sleeping with men in the first place. As for why the non-sapphic gals are avoiding you, that is a mystery. Next time you meet a nice straight girl you'd like to "try out", give her a reference from someone who's had sexual experiences with you. You know, like your hand.

Oh, sweetie. You already have a baby. Why are you dating another? Feelings fade. Fuck guilt. Dump that loser and get the hell on with your life already. Trust me — that magical future? You're living it. And if you think it's grim now, just imagine it in ten years, when he's fat and bald and can't get it up for anything except golf. And that mu'fucking check still hasn't come in. By then your only option will be to get a job teaching health class at the local high school so you can sexually brainwash one of your students into shooting him in his fat little face. Which is going to be that much harder with sagging boobs.

Because you've fallen asleep and are dreaming, honey. Wake up or you'll be late for homeroom.

Patience, honey. Patience. While a frothing, accusatory confrontation might seem like a great idea at the time, there's always that danger of going in for the face-slap, missing, and winding up having the best sex of your life. Better to sit and fester somewhere quiet and let opportunity find you, which — sooner or later — it will. They say that living well is the best revenge but I'd argue that “accidentally” spilling a cup of hot coffee on the crotch of someone who really deserves it has its charms too.

There are several ways to deal with that problem. You could watch one of his recent movies — Gigli, for instance — which should solve the problem immediately. Or here's another idea. In obedience school they teach something called aversion therapy, which reinforces positive behavior and discourages negative or unhealthy behavior. Every time you catch yourself being attracted to Ben Affleck immediately smack a bag of doorknobs against your head. Repeat as necessary. Simple. Painful. Effective.

Some women just aren’t satisfied if you can’t fulfill their childish rebellious fantasies. So the next time your girlfriend tells you she wants to date a “bad boy” you should immediately walk to the kitchen and select the sharpest knife she owns. Go to her living room and violently slash her sofa to shreds. Pick up her television; hurl it at her cat. Tear up her designer clothes. Smear your feces on her bed and walls. I gave the same advice to Guy Ritchie years ago and look where he is now.

According to a study conducted (appropriately enough) by the Centers for Disease Control, nearly half of all first marriages end in separation or divorce. Let’s face it: Despite all the TV shows and movies and sappy songs to the contrary, the institution of marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. So my advice to your parents is to worry a little less about your raving delusions and a little more about the fact that you’re banking on a venture that has a 50 percent chance of ending in heartbreak, ruin, and misery. As for you, honey, don't concern yourself so much with your parents’ opinions of your lovelife. Especially when you can ponder your father’s secret obsession with dirty toilet seats and the on-going tryst between your mother and brother.

If you’re hot and really, really good in bed then it pretty much doesn’t matter how you treat people. So go crazy!

That depends on the sentiment you’re attempting to convey. While dead flowers suggest you may be a psychotic stalker, nothing says “somewhere a goth loves you” better than black flowers. However, if you really want to send the proper Valentine message, there’s just no substitute for sleeping with one of their siblings.