DR. ROMANCE: HELP FOR THE LOVELORN
Jack Knox will not appear today. It being Valentine’s Day, he has relinquished this space to advice columnist Dr. Romance.
Dear Dr. Romance: This morning my wife gave me a significant look and said: “It’s Feb. 14. Does that mean anything to you?”
“OMG, I forgot!” I replied, slapping my forehead. “It’s luge team relay day at the Olympics!”
She glared at me, so I reconsidered my words. “Or maybe that’s tomorrow. Today’s the women’s giant slalom. That Lindsey Vonn, she’s so hot.”
Speaking of hot, my wife stomped out and slammed the door. What gives?
Confused in Colwood
Dear Confused: She left the TV remote, right?
Dear Dr. Romance: My boyfriend — we’ll just call him Albert A. — really, really, really wants to run his pipeline into my vulnerable areas, but I don’t feel I’m ready.
“What if it’s not safe?” I asked him. “Baby, trust me,” he said. “You’re not the one who’ll be in trouble if there’s a spill,” I said.
He looked at me solemnly: “We all need to make sacrifices for our country.”
So I pointed out that he was selling oil to China, not shipping out to ’Nam, but this just made him mad. “Don’t be selfish,” he said. “It’s what’s best for us.” “Define ‘us,’ ” I said. This really set him off, and now he’s stomping around smashing wine bottles. Dr. Romance, what should I do?
Wanda Fewka-Strate Victoria
Dear Wanda: Duck.
Dear Dr. Romance: Given all that has happened in the past year, and being a feminist guy like Justin, I turned to my totally equal girlfriend and said “I should pay more attention to what you say.”
“Thanks,” she replied, “that’s really…”
“Not enough guys are like me and really willing to listen,” I continued.
She gave me a half-smile: “I guess I’m super luck…”
I grabbed her shoulders, looked into her eyes: “What you need to understand about women is they are no longer accepting things they cannot change, they are changing things they cannot accept.”
She took my hands off her shoulders: “You know you’re mansplai…”
“No need to thank me,” I said. “Men of quality do not fear equality.”
She winced. “Please stop talk…”
“You’re right,” I said. “Crushing the patriarchy shouldn’t just be up to women. No one is free when others are oppressed.”
“I want to drown you in a bucket,” she said. “You’re welcome,” I replied. Now she doesn’t say anything at all, just looks at me and shakes her head. What gives?
Feminist in Fairfield
Dear Feminist: Women, go figure.
Dear Dr. Romance: According to the 2016 census, Greater Chicktoria has 13,000 more unattached women than unattached men.
What’s more likely: Finding a decent man in Victoria or A) being struck by lightning, B) being struck by a Rachel Notley trade embargo, C) Notley enjoying a nice glass of Vancouver Island Ortega with her Valentine’s dinner, or D) the Canucks making the playoffs ever again?
Lonely in Langford
Dear Lonely: Define “decent man.”
Dear Dr. Romance: A decent man is one who is not A) married, B) in a coma*, C) wearing a mustard stained “Lock her up” T-shirt, or D) currently incarcerated/wearing an electronic ankle bracelet/featured in a Crime Stoppers ad. (*Let’s leave this door open.)
Lonely
Dear Lonely: You’re hooped.
Dear Dr. Romance: When asked whether the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, you replied: “Yes, but Mrs. Dr. Romance prefers to go straight in with a steak knife.” You were kidding, right?
Quizzical in Qualicum
Dear Quizzical: Of course I was. Mrs. Dr. Romance doesn’t eat red meat, would never pick up a steak knife. Also, we need a new fondue fork.
Dear Dr. Romance: You also wrote that Mrs. Dr. Romance wakes up each morning with tears of joy. Great, heaving sobs of joy. Isn’t this bad for her?
Nonplussed in Nanaimo
Dear Nonplussed: No, a little cry is good for your well-being. I call it “two-teared health care.” Ha! Ha! Ha! Sometimes Dr. Romance cracks himself up.
Dear Dr. Romance: You’re not a real doctor, are you?
Suspicious in Saanich
Dear Suspicious: Dr. Romance cures heartache and writes prescriptions for love.