The Advice Goddess Amy Alkon

Write each guyís name in catsup on your kitchen counter. Find a pregnant iguana. Clip its toenails and scatter them in a circular pattern around each name. Walk outside and ask the first person you see their name. More than eight letters? Go with the older guy. Fewer than eight? The young dude. Or . . . just dump both, leave the iguana to lick up the catsup, and throw yourself at the next guy who asks you the time.

No, Iím not kidding. At this stage in your life, this is as good a method as any for deciding who will stay and who will go.

The truth is, nobody is particularly right or wrong for you because there isnít a whole lot of you to be right or wrong for. In fact, if youíre like a lot of people in their early 20s, youíre a larva in shoes. With boobs and a job, you probably look the part of an adult, but at best, youíre the test market for Smirnoff Ice and probably have a hard time with existential questions deeper than ìBleu cheese or ranch?î

Yet, chances are, pretty much all you have are questions ó big, looming ones like ìWho am I?î ó which you canít duck by answering ìWho am I with?î Do yourself a favor; admit you arenít sure who you are, and start trying on selves like day-of-the-week underwear. So, Saturday morning, youíre a blank slate, tabula rasa, but after a weekend matting your hair into dreads, you slouch into work all tabula Rasta. Tuesday, maybe you throw on a Che Guevara T-shirt and march to your cubicle as girl revolutionary. Oops, the office know-it-all tells you the guy was actually a mass murderer. You slink to the bathroom, turn your shirt inside out, and vow to sneak out early to celebrate capitalism at the mall.

Your real problem isnít choosing between the two guys, but the fact that you seem to approach life like a contestant on ìThe Price Is Right,î glancing nervously at your 12 inbred relatives in the audience for hints at the answers. Take your biggest fear, for example. It isnít that your relationship wonít meet your needs, but that it wonít meet your parentsí. Ma-ma! Thatís exactly why you shouldnít get serious with any guy right now, especially a much older one. Since you donít know who you are, itís easy to fall into being who you think he wants. And instead of looking for your own answers, youíre prone to lean over and, essentially, cheat off his SAT.

To figure out whatís right for you, have the guts to throw yourself into what could be wrong for you. Take risks. Make mistakes. Date mistakes. Live it up. Just not so much that you end up maimed, pregnant or dead. In the wise words of the ancient philosopher Sir Mick Jagger, ìItís okay letting yourself go as long as you can let yourself back.î

Tough lovelorn
A guy wrote you, furious that women never ask him out. I think he was crying for help, and you just hammered him. Why

not tell him, ìTalk to women you like. If one responds positively, ask for her numberî? Give the guy a break!
ó Play Nice

If my goal in life were being mean, Iíd go to a mall and yell ìHey, ugly!î as people walk by. I could also drop nice big slabs of generic advice on people who write me rather than going to the muss and fuss of solving their actual problems. This guy was angry and hated women, so much so that heíd not only given up on dating but planned to launch a boycott of female-owned businesses. Do you really think the answer for a guy like this is hitting on more of the ladies? ìI hate you, will you go out with me?î (ìOoh, Monica, look at that sexy bulging vein in his neck!î) The absolute last thing this guy needs is ìa break.î Heís been giving himself breaks for years: ìWomen should ask me out!î Yes, and Scarlett Johanssen should stalk you, and the surgeon general should issue an advisory that lying on the couch sucking down Doritos and beer is the single best way to prevent heart disease.
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Got a problem? Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave, No. 280, Santa Monica, CA 90405, or e-mail This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it (www.advicegoddess.com).