PRIVACY NOTICE
TORMENTED? DRIVEN WITLESS? FEAR NOT, HELP IS JUST A SHORT LETTER AWAY
NAKED AMBITION
How does a female entrepreneur handle being slut-shamed? I’m 29 and in the process of establishing my own company, and there’s a possibility of some nude photos coming to light (unfortunately, from several sources). Ideally, the men will never post anything at all. But I’m in tears writing this because I’m afraid my poor choice of boyfriends (complete and utter losers, I’m ashamed to say) will destroy any ounce of credibility I have before my business even has a chance. How can I neutralise this threat? Do I make a video like Eminem’s MTV confessional and put my insecurities out there first so the haters know they have no power over me? – HAUNTED ENTREPRENEUR
Haunted, my honey bunch: Forget Eminem. I love him, but we have better examples to look to. With the greatest respect, I mention adult-film star Stormy Daniels, who handles slut-shamers as brilliantly as Catherine the Great. The woman who allegedly had an affair with the president of the United States has outsmarted her shamers with such élan, she’s now America’s honorary prom queen. You’re worried about nude photos, Miss Haunted? Miss Stormy (aka Stephanie Clifford) makes her living taking her clothes off. Her method of shutting down the lowlifes who smear her is to discredit them. Her Twitter replies are so hilarious and disparaging, many of her foes just give up and remove their tweets. So, the best actions, should these photos see daylight: (1) Publicly condemn the privacy breach. (2) Discredit the slut-shamer. (3) Work harder, and get on with it. It’s good to be prepared, Miss Haunted, but stop worrying about what can go wrong with your new company, and start getting fired up about what can go right. Every minute you worry about the assholes from your past is a minute you could be building your future.
UGLY DUCKLING
I’m probably just shallow, but here goes: my friend looks like a supermodel. I struggle with my looks. I’m not a troll, but because I’m comparing myself with her, I feel like the ugliest person on the planet. Wherever we go, everyone stares at her, every guy is in love with her, and I’m left standing there, feeling invisible. She’s actually an amazing person, but this friendship is ruining my self-esteem. Will I ever be okay? – THE BAD FRIEND
Bad, my begonia: You didn’t ask me if you should mention it to your friend, but I predict that within three minutes of you confessing your jealousy, you’ll be listening in stunned amazement as she flings her arms heavenward and hoots joyful cries that she’s jealous of all sorts of things about you.
DESPERATE (AND DATELESS)
What’s the best way to move past rejection, whether it’s job rejection or romantic rejection? The conventional wisdom is to “try, try again”, but I’ve been doing that with no luck. What should I do? – HUMAN REPELLENT
Human, my heliotrope: I know more about rejection than any advice columnist. I’ve jolly well been rejected about 95 per cent of the time. Why so often? I sulked not a second. Instead, I’d yodel hogwash like “rejection makes me stronger”, totter out, and try again. This is stupid. The key to turning around a brush-off (professional or amatory) is to work out how you made an ass of yourself, then avoid doing the same dumb things again. This is where the sulk comes in. A sulk heightens negative emotions. Negativity brings critical thinking. Critical thinking improves results. Do it!
FEELING SEASICK
My boyfriend goes sailing every year. This year, there were six people on board, including him – three men and three women. Two couples. Everyone knows he’s dating me. One night, the single woman asked if she could sleep with him. He said no. How can another woman find it okay to sleep with a man knowing he has a girlfriend? What about the Woman Code? – CONFUSED
Confused, my kumquat: There are good women. There are bad women. And there are women who fall so short of the ideal they will steal your man, even when you’ve duct-taped him to your fridge. But there’s no such thing as the Woman Code.