Sep 16 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: Should I accept a job offer that I’m not qualified for?

(Column originally published here.)

In this increasingly status-driven world, the measure of a man (or a woman, for that matter) is often his (or her) professional life. The pressure to find the perfect gig bears down early — if they can hold a pencil, kids can take career assessments. For the remainder of their educational lives, our impressionable youth are steered in a direction— to put it politely —  that was determined when they probably still wet the bed.

But what happens when your mortarboard barely has a chance to collect dust, and that dream job comes along — and you’re not ready?

Career counselor’s cap? On.

 

Dear Fayza,

I’m a very recent college grad with a degree in software engineering. I worked at an internship at a pretty legit company that gave me a good recommendation.

So I went off to find a job. I interviewed at a few places. The job I really wanted extended an offer to me.

But the problem is, at my internship, I didn’t do any actual software engineering. In fact, I was more of a secretary. So I don’t have as much experience as it seems.

After the interview, even though I did well, I realized that I’m underqualified for the job. My internship looks good on paper (good company, good recommendation), but it didn’t give me any experience. I interviewed well, but looking into the job position, I’m unsure about whether or not I can actually handle the tasks that go with the role.

It’s not about me not knowing if I can handle the tasks of the role. I’m not exactly able to fulfill all of the job requirements listed.

I didn’t lie on my resume or anything. It’s not like the job description said, “Be good with people,” and I’m thinking, “Oh geez, I’m socially retarded.”

But those more defined, software engineer skills that I have to have to get the job — I don’t have them.

Do I take the job or not?

- All Systems Go?

 

Dear Systems,

You certainly are a very recent college graduate, aren’t you? Well, you’re thinking just like one, at least.

Lucky for you, I’m thinking like the wizened and sage thirtysomething that I am, and I’m channeling a news flash for your benefit.

Ready?

Buck up, enginerd-in-training. You’re in for a bumpy ride. But hold on tight, because you’re going to weather this storm.

I’m not going to soak you with, “You can do it! Believe in yourself! You don’t know until you try!” rah-rahs. I’m not into that many exclamation points in row, I hung up my pom-poms in 1997, and thankfully, I’m too young to be your mother.

But I do want to shake you vigorously. Don’t downplay your accomplishments so quickly, young Padawan.

You got the chance to associate your name and your skills with the likes of a prestigious company in your field. They liked you enough to put nice things about you down on paper. You found the position of your dreams, knocked the interview out of the park, and you got that damn job.

Meanwhile, your peers are still probably trying to make Plan D happen.

But it’s yours. You’ve got it.

Keeping the gig, on the other hand, is another matter — and with your current defeatist attitude, you’re sure to lose it.

You see, the nature of some internships isn’t to give you any substantive duties. It’s to familiarize you with the work, the flow, the environment, and the overall professional life in your field. You’re likely not entrusted to move mountains as an intern; sometimes, which coffee to brew that day is the biggest decision you’ll make.

But rest assured, those corporate overlords are watching you. They’re assessing you. They’re sizing you up. They want to make sure you’re someone they want in their field. Because if you suck, they’re going to be dealing with your whippersnapper ass for at least 25 years to come.

The same thing happened in your interview. Your new company reviewed your résumé and your recommendation, saw your potential, knows you’re greener than fresh grass — and still extended you the offer.

And yet you still don’t think you have the skills to do this job?

(You obviously didn’t wear your insecurities on your sleeve at the interview.)

Look, kid, you really don’t know until you try. But like I said, this cheerleader’s retired. So if you think you need to beef up those software engineering skills to do the job you’ve been offered, just do it.

Knowledge isn’t confined to the hallowed halls of educational institutions, or we’d all be stuck with twentysomething brains like yours. The School of Hard Knocks teaches us far more than we ever learned between the covers of books — like going after something if you really, really want it, and doing everything you can to keep it.

Whether you realize it or not (and you don’t realize it, that’s clear), youare qualified. Leaders in your industry think you’re qualified. Former supervisors think you’re qualified. Your degree-granting university thinks you’re qualified.

But you don’t, and that’s all that matters. So go out there and figure out what it is that you don’t know, and know it, dammit. Take an online course. Read a few books. Schedule mentoring time with experienced software engineers. Peruse websites. Ask questions on forums. Be aggressive. Do you want it? Prove it, mister.

Yes, there might be a steep learning curve, but it’s all accessible. No one’s asking you to be a stuntman or a motivational speaker. It’s concrete knowledge that you can find, learn, sink your teeth into, and digest.

College isn’t the end of learning, buddy. It’s only the beginning.

You’ve worked this hard. You’ve gotten this far. Are you seriously going to drop the ball now?

I didn’t think so.

Cheers,
Fayza

 

With my advice, you’ll never need a Plan B (or C or D). Just ask. Send an e-mail to advice@culturemap.com, message me on Facebook or Twitter,or leave a question in the comments below. I’m qualified, and I’m for hire.

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Sep 02 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: Should I tell my friend to stop dating a married man or silently wait for disaster?

(Column originally published here.)

Can you believe it’s already September? Not that it feels that way or anything. It’s still very much summer in my neck of God’s country(for readers of my nationally syndicated column that unfortunately find themselves outside the great state of Texas).

I’m theorizing that this go-go-gadget heat is seeping through your windows, under your doors, and into your bedrooms, too.

Why do I say that? Because I also have cause to wonder whether the outlandish temperatures have dried out your brains — causing you to make some ill-advised choices.

At least that’s what the the letter writer below is positing. Let’s see for ourselves.

 

Dear Fayza,

My friend is dating a married guy. Not in a mistress sort of way, but in a not-quite-divorced, maybe-even-trial-separation kind of way.

I want the best for her, and I’m happy if she’s happy, but I don’t think it’s a good sign about a guy’s commitments if he drops his wife and picks up a new girlfriend before the ink is even dry on the divorce papers.

Do I tell her what I think, or just be supportive and there for her when and if the shit hits the fan?

- Don’t Give Your Lifey to a Man With a Wifey

 

Dear Don’t,

Before we begin, I’d like to award you a shiny gold star for what, I assume, must be a life lived according to convictions, values and end games. You know what you want, you’ve got your destinations plotted in ink on your life map, and your eyes never leave that prize. Congratulations. You are a success!

Now for the good news: We all don’t operate the way you do.

Let’s get real here. You’re not happy if she’s happy. Because if you were, you wouldn’t have written this letter.

So your friend is dating a man that may or may not exactly be divorced — facts of which your friend is fully aware. Her paramour is also not fully committed to his attenuated marriage, either. I’ll admit, it’s a situation that ups the squirm factor for those that prefer black and white when it comes to matrimony — those that see marital bonds as a contractual agreement that must be rescinded by a legal entity to be null and void.

But some people are more at home in gray areas than you might be.

While dating might be a step toward 2.5 kids and a white picket fence for you, for others, it’s the company of another interesting human along the journey that fuels the fire. The experience of simply enjoying someone else in the here and now may be all your friend is looking for out of this relationship. He may be a stop along the way to her — and nothing more.

There’s no script when it comes to amorousness, and it’d be foolish to structure affections by presuming what your friend’s life goals — past, present, or future — might be.

And what if it did develop into something more serious? Then what? Mr. Not-So-Married wouldn’t be the first person in the world to meet the love of his life at the worst possible time.

As long as he’s always on the up and up with her and treats her like the queen she is, you don’t have much to complain about. You’re more than entitled to voice your concerns to her — if she asks, that is. But it’s not your right to assume that you know what she wants for herself more than she does.

It sounds to me like the real issue here is the one you take with her acceptance of these murky waters she’s swimming in. If you trust her and her judgment, it’s not your place to rescue her when there is no emergency.

Cheers,
Fayza

 

Monogamously married, sassy singleton, perfectly polygamous, hoes in different area codes — I can handle whatever relationship woes you throw. Own up and post them in the comments below, or break my heart in a message to me at advice@culturemap.com, or on Facebook or Twitter. There’s only one man for me, but I know you might be in the process of plentiful pit stops. I’ll recognize your emergency and save you.

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Aug 19 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: Should I “unfollow” and “unfriend” my annoying ex on Twitter and Facebook?

(Column originally published here.)

If the past week in the Internet has taught us anything, it’s that social media can really elevate an offline relationship.

But what if romance is involved and that carnal longing has been squelched? What happens to the cyber remains of the relationship?

Let’s give digital dumpings a whirl.

Dear Fayza,

Several months ago, I met a person via Twitter. We started keeping up with each other — first retweets, then @replies and finally moved on to DMs.  She connected with me on LinkedIn and then friended me on Facebook. We made casual contact — liking statuses and photos. We then took the next step to meet up in real life (IRL) for a casual drink, which turned into a dinner date.

After the first date we decided to meet up again, and the second date was a bust. I immediately lost interest. The physical chemistry was lacking. There was mild follow-up to confirm that I was not interested in meeting up again. We have not seen each other since the awkward second date with the awkward physical encounter. 

I now find her tweets very irritating. They were not so irritating before but now they just seem so self-promoting, all about her work and boring. I do not follow many people and so her flood of boring/bullshit tweets are annoying.

What should I do? Just unfollow her? Is that mean?

I hate to hit it and quit it — or hit it and unfollow. The relationship started with social media. Should I end it there too? Is there a way to keep following people so they don’t know you deleted them but mute them somehow. Help!

- My Finger’s Hovering Over Unfollow

 
Dear Finger,

Friend, I think that mass of gray matter atop your neck is already telling you what to do. But I can’t blame you for wanting to hear it from another beating heart.

We’d be foolish if we didn’t admit that dating has become so damn complicated with the introduction of digital elements to the mix.  We are connected in more ways than we’ve ever desired to people we barely know — or are just getting to know. Nowadays, you’re well-versed on your lover’s favorite pastimes and her odd penchant for liking shark photos on Facebook — all before you even plan your first date. How’s that for overly inflating a budding interest?

Or deflating one, as the case may be.

But why does the fact that you’re following her on Twitter or have befriended her on Facebook change the way you dump a dame?

Dating is dating, whether you’ve sexted or courted. No matter whether it started offline or online, what was once endearing and intriguing now makes you want to relocate and change your name. And you don’t have to put up with it.

You never want to see this person again. You have no use for this discarded diva in your life. You tried on the goods, left the tags on, and brought them back for a full refund. So why would you treat this breakup any differently than one that hadn’t started online?

The steadfast principles of dating are tried and true for a reason — across any medium, across any space-time continuum. Apply them.

How do you do that? Unfollow and unfriend her. Look, following or friending someone is a commitment, more or less — one which you’ve clearly decided you’re not interested in undertaking with her. Move forward free and clear of your past errors in judgment.

You aren’t obligated to take part in her life in perpetuity simply because you once found her captivating in 140 characters. Your level of interest has sunk to zero in real life. With the click of a mouse, it can — and should — do the same online. Especially if her commentary only serves to remind you of what you can no longer stand.

Is it mean? Perhaps. Was it mean when Billy didn’t ring Suzy after getting to second base at the drive-in during the prehistoric age of courtship? Probably. Was it mean to pretend Joey didn’t exist when Sally walked into the Peach Pit on the arm of the high school quarterback? I’m guessing so.

But was it necessary? Absolutely. Billy had to sever the ties with Suzy somehow. Joey had to get the hint that Sally wasn’t into him eventually. Ripping off the Band-Aid might not be the most humane response in the short run, but it’s the quickest and it’s the most effective. And it simply has to be done.

The beauty of social media is that the beginning and end are so finite — as opposed to the days when you sat around, hoping and hoping (and hoping) that your paramour would call or post an owl to show that he or she cared (and never did).

Use it to your advantage. Pull the plug — or, rather, push the button — once and for all, and clean your screen of that which you don’t want to have seen.

 

I don’t care if you follow or unfollow me. I won’t date you anyway. But I will give you good advice if you send a message to advice@culturemap.com, or get at me on Facebook or Twitter. Or put your tweets where your mouth is, and leave a question in the comments instead. I can’t promise I won’t dump you, but I will be impressed.

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Aug 05 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: Shouldn’t my cheap boyfriend pick up the tab if he makes double my salary?

(Column originally published here.)

Love certainly is a peculiar potion, isn’t it? Then you go and add money to the mix, and the headiness can turn toxic.

Our latest cohabitating letter writer is figuring that out firsthand.

What happens when dual, uneven salaries duel? Let’s find out.

 

Dear Fayza,

I’ve been living with my boyfriend for around six months, and although it’s been a pretty smooth adjustment — smoother than I expected — one thing we still squabble over is money.

As it stands, we split everything 50/50 — the rent, the utilities and the groceries. Pretty much all shared expenses are split down the middle.

That’s all well and good, but being that my boyfriend makes a considerable amount more than I do (more than double), I feel like it’s reasonable to expect that he picks up the tab when we’re out together.

He thinks it’s unfair for me to feel entitled to that, especially when I drag him out to something that he’d be fine missing. He does usually pick up the tab, but on the occasions that paying for something does become an issue, it’s incredibly frustrating for both of us.

I need to know: Am I being unreasonable? Is he?

- Income-ing Problem

 

Dear Income-ing,

Oh dear. You see, there’s this little thing called “precedent.” If I’m going to be honest with you, it’s got to be brutal, so here goes: Precedent ain’t working in your favor right now.

I’ll assume you’ve been dating long enough (well, you are shacking up) to warrant some sort of money modus operandi. I’m also going to assume that, pre-address-sharing, this boyfriend of yours didn’t always pay your way when you went out before (even though, I assume, he’s always made substantially more money than you).

Riddle me this, then: Why on earth should cohabitation change your couple contribution structure?

The short answer: It shouldn’t.

Relationships and money issues don’t often play nice. As such, the rhyme and reason behind divvying up the dollars needs parameters. Let’s face it: Couples fight more about money than anything else.

Despite what the brainiacs at Cosmopolitan and Marie Claire tell you, men are quite simple beasts.

If you agreed long ago — or at least established an unspoken agreement around the same time — that going Dutch was your relationship’s local currency, then your bar tabs and restaurant bills and taxi cabs should still remain income independent, barring any extenuating circumstances.

The only thing that’s changed over the course of your relationship is your living quarters. Why would your economic routines suddenly be different just because you share the same roof?

You think it’s reasonable to expect that he’ll pick up the tab when you’re out together. However, unless you’ve established new norms, it’s actuallynot reasonable to assume he’d do anything else but what you’ve bothalways done when you’re out together. Rinsing his grizzle from the bathroom sink doesn’t entitle you to automatically nullify prior arrangements.

You also admit that you drag him to events he doesn’t even want to attend, and you still expect him to pay. Look, lady. You invited him out. No, actually, you forced him to leave his cozy den of tube sock sweat,football and beer in a can to schmooze your scene against his will.

And you still want him to foot the bill when he desperately does not want to be there.

C’mon, woman. Does that even make sense to you?

Now, if this is an abandonment of his past actions — meaning that he paid a majority of the time in the past — then sure, you have every right to feel entitled. Addressing the change in behavior directly with him should clear up that situation faster than Valtrex to herpes.

But I’m guessing that’s not the case in your domestic partnership.

It’s obviously causing you strife, though. You expected to move in with him and you expected things to even out a little. Everyone knows it’s cheaper to live with someone. You split the bills, the rent … and the bar tabs — the latter of which wasn’t quite in your budget.

The great thing about relationships is that they grow and change as the years go on. Instead of bemoaning your original 50/50 entertainment decision with Richie Rich on your paltry salary, let’s take a shot at breaking even.

Despite what the brainiacs at Cosmopolitan and Marie Claire tell you, men are quite simple beasts. Mr. Moneybags can’t comprehend that his lady love is financially independent one day, and whining when he doesn’t pick up the tab the next.

So explain it to him. Put all your debts and debits on the table. Talk about your income, your spending, your bills, your budget. There’s a good chance he doesn’t know how much you make in relation to how much you spend or owe. If you want him to fork over the cash for pleasure, you have to let him know all about your painful obligations.

If he’s still not keen on chalking up a few checks after that, see if he’d take responsibility for some of the bills at home. Not halving the electricity bill or perhaps paying an income-proportionate share of the rent would certainly alleviate some of the sting your wallet is feeling.

It’s common knowledge that he — or she — who does the inviting also does the paying. If you can’t work out an alternative arrangement, you’d better stop inviting, or start paying up without complaint, mama.

You may think splitting it down the middle is expensive, but losing your boyfriend over this would be way more costly.

The best things in life are free — just like my advice. Email the wealth of your worries to advice@culturemap.com, or message to me on Facebook or Twitter or be truly bold and leave a question in the comments. I’m the reason you can’t put a price on good advice.

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Jul 12 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: How do I dump a boring, fake best friend who isn’t very good in bed?

(Column originally published here.)

If I were to write Houston a love letter, it would go something like this:

“Dear Houston, please stop playing it safe when asking me for advice. I know this drama-dominated metropolis is nothing without your trite travails. Quit holding out on me, and let your inner bitch flag fly.”

Then I would plaster it with perfectly planted kisses, a la Justin Bieber on Vanity Fair. But I’d mean it.

Don’t hold back on me, Houston. Show me how evil you are. Take a cue from the letter writer below.

 

 

Dear Fayza,

I have a friend who is incredibly sweet, accomplished, loyal and unfortunately, very BORING. She is a solid person who enjoys getting out of the house and hanging out with big and small groups of people. I always invite her out because she doesn’t know very many people, and I’m happy to introduce her to more.

We’re sort of her connectors to getting to know people, and I sometimes feel like she relies on me for “what to do” every weekend.  She is kind of boring and doesn’t keep conversation going very well, so I always feel like I need to be around her to make sure she is having a good time.

This may sound like I think I’m the life of the party (I’m not!), but it is exhausting constantly including her and not seeing her cultivate other friendships.  She has even tried dating some guys in our group and they sleep together and guys end up letting it fizzle out because they think she is “kinda eh.”

Many people think we’re BFFs because we’re always together, but we’re not. We’re friendly, but we don’t have friendship fireworks. I’ve started not enjoying our time together because I ultimately ignore everyone else (and potential, awesome BFFs) when we’re in large groups.

I feel guilty ignoring others and I feel guilty for leaving her on her own. I realize she is a big girl and can totally handle life without me, but how do I distance myself from this super nice person who just isn’t my cup of tea?

- Faux BFF

 

Dear Faux,

Damn girl, you’re good. You’re spot on with that “faux” part of your moniker. Despite repeatedly saying that she’s your friend, your liberal references to this woman’s boringness (complete with reviews from men she’s slept with — go-go-gadget disparager!) indicate otherwise. She sounds like a leech that you can’t wait to scrape off with your pocket knife and fling into the cesspool of loneliness.

Have I made you feel badly about yourself? A wee bit? I hope so. Because you should feel bad. For about five seconds.

Now that perhaps your egregious ego has taken a bit of a hit, I’ll admit — there’s a semi-decent heart beneath your pseudo-Mean Girls chest. Aside from your faux-y godmother complex, you have no obligation to be anyone’s social chauffeur.

You’ve turned pumpkins into golden stagecoaches for this black sheep, turned her pariah rags into jeweled in-crowd gowns, and you’ve stuffed her boring feet into glass slippers. She’s as good and ready for the royal ball as you’re going to get her.

Maybe she doesn’t even like being in your company. Ever think about it that way?

But clearly, she’s not invited to yours. Not only is she not your cup of tea, but you’re just not that into her. And that’s OK.

Friendship isn’t immutable. It doesn’t take surgery to correct. It’s a choice you make out of your own free will. When it starts feeling like a chore, it’s time to bail.

If you’re not feeling friendship fireworks, chances are that she doesn’t either. She probably feels indebted to you for all that you’ve done for her (and she should). She might even still need you for the services you provide, despite the fact that — gasp! — maybe she doesn’t even like being in your company. Ever think about it that way?

Look, this is getting more awkward and indentured servitude-ish by the minute. I command you to release her — and yourself — from the shackles of faux friendship at once.

So stop. Just stop. Stop inviting her along. Stop going to great (or any) lengths to include her. When she calls you to hit the town with her? Stop being available. Don’t be an asshole — return her calls and texts, for gawdsakes, and be cordial to her (but not chummy) if you see her out. You weren’t raised in a barn. But unless you actually want to hang out with her, don’t be a pig, either.

Your unfriendly unfurling may prompt a inquisition from your abandoned project. Fair enough — you ought to see this one coming. Be prepared to give her the watered-down version of what you’ve told me — that the sparks just aren’t there. It’s honest and mature — which she, as a human being, deserves from you. Minus all your gory judgments of her rumored lack of enthusiasm in bed, of course.

You’re right, she’s a big girl, and she can handle this. I just hope she appreciates your altruistic favors — of having had her very own faux-y godmother, and the favor you’re doing her by relinquishing this woman from your increasingly wicked clutches.

 

You know the old saying, “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink”? Doesn’t apply to me. I can make you do both, but only if you submit your most burning requests for advice to me at advice@culturemap.com. I’ll even accept them through Facebook or Twitter. Because I know you’re thirsty. Have a nice cool glass of the truth.

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Jun 29 2011
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Navel-Gazing

Dear Everyone: I need your advice.

I know, I know, I’m the damn advice columnist around here. I realize this effectively means that I have all the answers (shhh, yes, it does). You believe I know it all, and even if I don’t, you’re content when I make it up.

I’m flattered.

I have a secret to share with you. Are you ready for this jelly? Lo and behold, I don’t have the solution for this one. Can you believe it? This one’s a real doozy. Trust me, I’m quite flummoxed myself.

But if anyone can snake a path through my dilemma, I know you can, slithering friends. I really do mean that in the nicest way possible.

Here goes.

***

Dear Everyone,

I don’t know how it happened or who overthrew whom for power, but man, I’ve got this serious problem with time, man.  And I’m really gonna need your help.

I didn’t say timeliness (hush your mouth, Brandi). I said time.

You see, somewhere in my mid-20s, time, like, sped up. When I was in law school, the days (and classes) used to stretch their legs like ribbons of sand along deserted beaches, lacking clear definition of where the shore began and the water ended. I often wondered how on earth I would fill an entire day (groan!), despite the cases I had to read and outline, the research papers I had to complete, and the bar nights where I was obliged to drink away my student loan allocation for the semester.

Alas (for many reasons), those halcyon days and I have parted ways. And there’s also been a notable regime change in management at Father Time’s office as well.

Now, the days are feverish commuters on a freeway without a speed limit, going everywhere and nowhere, all at once. I don’t understand when or how everyone got on this freeway, but man, it might as well be a conveyor belt. On crack. Everyone is moving at the speed of drugs, including time. Not only are there not enough hours in the day, but there aren’t enough hours in my life. Wasn’t I 25 yesterday? Not technically, okay, but yes, I think I was.

This is where you come in. I need to know: How do I slow down time? I have so many things to do in life, and the lines are only deepening on my face.

I need time to slow down. Desperately. I need to put a harness on ye olde time thing. Will you teach me how?

- “Time In a Bottle “Was a Lie

Jun 28 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: My husband hates my family. Can I get him to man up?

(Column originally published here.)

Oh, dear, dear reader. You’ve suffered long for the latest edition of my pithy advice column. Oh, how I beg your forgiveness.

But I’m also here to save the day. I’m here to relieve you of that obviously crushing burden.

The truth of the matter is, some tender hearts (and mangled lives) need mending offline, too. Not my own, mind you, but those of my community. My community needed me, friends. How could I turn the other cheek?

I have a duty to help the people. It’s simply unethical to do otherwise.

But I know you needed me, too. For you are also my community. My little nest of chirping, tittering lovebirds online.

Here I am, loves. Here I am.

 

Dear Fayza,

My husband can’t stand my family and always puts me in the middle of guilt trips any time a family function comes up.

While I know nothing is ever easy with my family and I’d much rather not deal with the hassle, either, they are my family and I love them. I’m thankful they want to be a part of my life.  I mean, come on, it’s only a few times per year anyway! 

I’ve talked to him about it, but how else can I deal with this for years and years to come?  It’s such a headache each time to calm him down for the occasion, and have to listen to him whine, threaten he’s not going, or rub things in my face about them. It’s such drama to go through that each and every occasion. 

We’re all adults, and no one has done any harm to anyone. Ii’s just personality and annoyance-based, that’s all. Any pointers on how to nip this in the bud?

- The Wife of Whine

 

Dear Wife of Whine,

Are you absolutely certain your husband’s an adult? Because those temper tantrums sound awfully infantile to me. Check his diaper and report back to me.

If I told you to tell him to suck it up, that would probably summarize my position perfectly. But that’s not why you entrusted me with your dilemma, so I’ll expound.

Your husband seems to feel as if his role at every event is on the defensive — you and your family versus him — all the time, every time. What he needs to understand is that the two of you aren’t on opposing teams — you’re actually teammates. Now you need to show him that you have his back.

I’m not blaming any of his irrational foot-stomping on you, by any means. But if you take a bit of responsibility for his bellyaching, we can get him to start wearing big boy underwear in no time.

After all, this is your family he’s kicking and screaming about, not his. You’ve got to coach him on what it means to grow up.

Before you even hit your family turf, huddle up with your husband and strategize. Hammer out your game plan before the game even begins.

Are you absolutely certain your husband’s an adult? Because those temper tantrums sounds awfully infantile to me. Check his diaper and report back to me.

How long do you plan to stay? Who’s in charge of pulling the plug when the clock winds down? How will you two exit the field? For whom will he need you to run interference if he gets cornered?

Agree on these points (and any others) before you face the crowd of kinfolk, and you’ll be much less likely to hear him crying foul play later.

Men are black-and-white, yes-or-no creatures. If you map out concrete offensive and defensive strategies prior to the family showdown, he’ll be more likely to shut the hell up in the future.

Then all you have to do is follow through. But I’d bet my money that Team Wife & Whine can successfully score that goal.

 

If you ask, be prepared to widely receive. I’m quarterbacking your life better than Joe Montana. So send me your questions atadvice@culturemap.com, post them in the comments, ping me on Twitter, or message me on Facebook. I’m your MVP.

Mar 30 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: Should I tell a friend her marriage is doomed before she even takes her vows?

(Column originally published here.)

The madness that is March has infected the best of us — even your favorite advice columnist. If I apologized for my somewhat lengthy hiatus from dishing out my trademark sage words, then I’d have to admit to doing something wrong.

Let’s just pretend nothing happened. Avoiding reality is the theme of this week’s question anyway.

 

Dear Fayza,

My husband and I have a friend who is expected to marry in April. Things are not going well between them. They moved in together one or two years ago, and he’s steadily gotten complacent, lazy and is not doing anything to help, even though he arrives home from work two hours before she does each day. 

She cries about it almost daily, and is stressed as heck (and I don’t mean wedding-planning-stressed). However, in public, she puts on the face that everything is perfect.  

We don’t want to burst her bubble, as it is many woman’s dream to be married. But I think she is caught up in getting married, and not thinking of the long-term issues that ignoring this now will bring. 

What we can do as friends? What do you think she should do?

- Biting My Tongue

 

Dear Biting,

I hope you like the taste of that bit in your mouth, because I’m going to recommend keeping it secured in place.

You say your friend complains all the time about her lifelong-mate-to-be, right? And you listen, as any good friend would. And you’re concerned, as anyone who cares about her would be. You want to help. You want to make her life better. You want to solve her problems. You’re a good friend, girl. There’s no disputing that.

But here’s where it gets a bit murky. Has she asked for your advice on how to handle this? Has she ever said, “Should I go through with this marriage?” Has she expressed an interest in actually fixing what you think is broken in her life?

Because if she hasn’t done any of these things, then your role as a superhero ends at the line she’s drawing by not seeking direction from you.

Look, you’re happily wedded, so you understand — relationships are complicated, man. There’s often a lot more to them than meets the casual observer’s eye.

And no one quite understands the intricacies of any particular relationship as acutely as the two parties that are in it. You’re only hearing your friend’s rendition of the events, and I’m sure you know there are three sides to every story — hers, his, and the truth. You’ve got one-third, at best. Yet you’re attempting to assess an entire situation without knowing the half of it.

As difficult as it might be, I must, in good conscience, advise you to stand down. Don’t confuse mere venting with a cry for help. Unless he’s abusing her physically or mentally, you’d do best to keep your unsolicited advice to yourself.

You might be right — your friend may want the fairytale, at all costs. She might be wildly careening toward the fantasy of a storybook wedding faster than she wants to confront the sobering consequences of marrying the wrong man. And you may be experiencing the clairvoyance of a bystander at the scene of a car crash that hasn’t yet happened — but it will.

Rest assured, a woman’s intuition never lies. But sometimes, she consciously chooses to ignore it.

It’s clear that, right now, your friend doesn’t want her bubble burst. Not yet, at least, and not by you. If you take the pin and prick her little world without her asking it of you, she may very well resent you for it. She may decide that moving forward with the very mistake you’re trying to prevent her from making is the best way to show you (and perhaps others) that you’re wrong.

Pushing her toward the problem — and perhaps losing the friendship altogether — is the opposite of your intentions.

We can all agree that her complaints are setting the stage for a colossal mistake of matrimony — from an outsider’s point of view. We can all see that as clear as day.

But until she sees it just as clearly, your advice is worthless currency to her. You’ll either need to commit to supporting her — come hell or high water (since both are pretty much guaranteed) — or get out of the kitchen if you can’t take the heat.

You’re not obligated to do either, and you’ve certainly not been tasked to come up with a solution. Your only duty is to be the kind of friend she’s asking for. If you can handle it.

If you’re looking for me to validate you, well, I can’t promise that. But I can give you solicited advice that may or may not burst your bubble — but it’ll be for the best.

Send your questions in to advice@culturemap.com, post them in the messages on this story, hit me up on Twitter, or message me on Facebook. I care about you. I want to help you. I’m a good friend like that

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Mar 06 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: How do I cut ties with my Mean Girls clique?

(Column originally published here.)

An electrical appliance sent a current through my body and shocked me this week. And even thatwas nothing compared to some of the things you want me to solve.

But it does explain why I’m a little long-winded this week. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. And you.

 

 

Dear Fayza,

I’ve been pulling back lately from a group that I’ve hung out with because one of the girls is absolutely horrible. Catty, brash, inconsiderate — and it’s always about her. Shows up late, talks the loudest, gets the drunkest .. .always. We will call her the Queen Bee.

I recently decided to venture out with the group (because I like the other girls), and it was awful. At damn near 30, it was like I was in “Mean Girls!” Everyone had their inside jokes and when I’d try to chime in, the room would go silent. There was actually a point where Queen Bee was making faces as I was talking. Nice. Did I miss the memo of having to pass through high school again before reaching 3-0?

Question is, how do I cut ties with this group? I don’t want to make it a big deal, but I just can’t deal with the cattiness anymore! I really like a couple of girls, but seriously, I can’t be around Queen Bee any longer.

I’m not about choosing sides (as that is quite high school, too), so how do I hang out with some without telling them why I don’t come around anymore?

- Too Old For This

 

Dear Too Old For This,

Your choice of social situations is questionable, but you did make one commendable election here — your moniker. Yes, dear, by your 30s, you should absolutely be above needing a leader for your pack.

Is this hen house your only connection to the animal farm? I doubt it. You’re a strong, independent woman. You have strong, independent interests. Simply put, you have your own thing. Pursue it.

At almost 30, you have your own transportation, your own bank account and your own schedule. The time you’ve wasted under the judgmental eye of this manipulative martini monster could’ve been spent pursuing social activities you actually enjoy.

Such as, you know, being yourself.

So find them and do them. And when the girls ask, “Wanna have drinks with us tonight?” you won’t even need to raise the confrontational cowardice flag — you’ll be legitimately busy with your new! fabulous! life!

Case closed.

Yeah right. You didn’t honestly think it was that easy, did you?

Because although you’ve expressed an interest in cutting ties with thegroup, what you really want is to cut ties with the group dynamic.

First things first. Grab your hoe, and reap what you sow, woman. Cultivate your one-on-one relationships with the sovereign’s vassals. A boozy brunch, a mani/pedi afternoon, sinful shopping — pick your female-heavy poison.

Establish your relationship with her — when you’re with her, you’re withher only. Not the group, not your demons, but each individual little bee only.

And when the conversation inevitably turns to the group (and your noticeable absence from it), keep the bad-mouthing in the shadows.

Because she will ask, and you — until you trust her as an independently-owned friend — will not indulge the catty gossipmongering. No. You. Will. Not.

You and the high road are about to become the best of friends, while you bow out of the group gracefully and strengthen your bonds individually.

Rest assured, however, that there’s a part two. Because this isn’t the cleanest end to your tenure on the queen’s court. You, blatantly skirting the queen and her group to befriend the ladies-in-waiting? Oh, honey. They will talk.

Walk with me out on this limb, my social ingenue.

Before you retreat, why don’t you invest a little effort in tearing down the Queen Bee’s groupthink facade? What if the quality time you’re spending with her minions spilled over into the lap of the high priestess herself?

Because if you think the public face is the only side of Queen Bee — or even the best side — then that should tell you something about how well you get to know someone in a group setting.

A generous helping of honey can counter her massive vinegar dosage — one on one. Why not try offing her head with kindness mano-a-mano? If she guillotines you, at least you gave every effort at an alliance with this woman. And your nest will be clear of eggs when the hens do come a-cluckin’.

You were initially friends for a reason, right? You owe it to you both to test your footing to see if there’s any common ground left on which you can both stand — before you commit treason upon the kingdom.

Who rules the roost? Only the one to whom you give the scepter. Not only is the time ripe for a regime change, but an overthrow of the monarchy is just what maturity ordered.

 

What — or who — is making your life a living hell? Send an e-mail to advice@culturemap.com, leave a question in the comments or send a message to me on Facebook or Twitter. I won’t maliciously feed Kalteen bars to anyone, but I do know a few good trust fall exercises.

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Feb 16 2011
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Dear Fayza

Dear Fayza: How does a nice guy become mean enough to be sexy to women?

(Column originally published here.)

It’s only been one week, and I already love fixing you. Not that you’re all broken, per se. I don’t really mean that. But you’re a bit wild-eyed and salivating, like college freshmen — torn between your insatiable thirst for the largest kegger you can find and your obligation to your parental-income-fueled curriculum.

Don’t worry — I’ll lead you straight to the beer every time. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? Don’t answer that.

Dear Fayza,

In all my 36 years, every girl that I have pursued has always turned me down because they just want to be friends. I recently started asking around about why that is, and the overwhelming response is: I am too nice. I’m an amazing friend but just too nice to be in a relationship.

Really? That’s why? Don’t girls want a nice guy? Apparently not.

I find it really impossible to be mean or even not as nice as I am. So, my question is, how does a guy go about being less nice? What’s the correct balance between mean and nice to get a girl?

- Too Nice

 

Dear Too Nice,

I hate to say this (but if I really hated to say it, I suppose I wouldn’t, would I?), but someone isn’t being straight up with you. Many someones, in fact. But it ain’t gonna be me.

Look, we girls know how to universally reject a man. Have you ever heard “It’s not you, it’s me,” “I’m not ready for a relationship” and “You’re just too nice”?

Yeah, that’s us, letting you go easy. Just because we’re not into you doesn’t mean we’re going to whack you silly with the bitch bat. If you’ve been hearing the same watered down refrain from trusted confidantes, we can translate for you — it is you.

You’ve spent the last 36 years rubbing nice and passive together, and I know why you aren’t creating a spark. It’s not that you’re merely “too nice.” It’s also that you’re lacking a pair. Of balls.

Women do want nice men, we do. We think you’re plenty nice when you open doors and carry heavy boxes for us (and yes, chivalry still feels marvelous, even to feminists), obliterate cockroaches, clear your pubic hair from the bathtub or refrain from sticking an expectant Mr. Happy in our backs at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday. We like when you put in the effort to be good to us. Those actions make you very nice men indeed.

We also think you’re pretty swell when you tell us no, you don’t want to eat at that snooty French bistro again. We’re cool with you telling us that it’s bromance time — not cuddling on the couch in front of another Katherine Heigl romcom — that you really need right now. And while we love that you want to try that new pretzel dip position we read about, we’re also relieved when you admit you just prefer us on top.

You haven’t been completely misled. We ladies do have a soft spot for nice. Nice gestures, nice times, nice treatment, nice attitudes, nice habits. But you shouldn’t take that to mean we want a nice, pliable man.

Simply put, we want your spine as unyielding as we want your erection. So don’t go tumbling into a potential paramour’s lap like a spilled $15 drink at a velvet rope club. Have some self-respect, for gawdsakes.

Ask yourself one question: Do you love yourself? Then love yourself first. When you love you — really, truly love you — chances are, she’ll love you, too.

In the meantime, grab a jersey, and get in The Game. The Game is still alive and well, and weaving its way through singleton circles everywhere. And you have to play it. No, man, it’s actually imperative that you play it. Give a woman everything she wants when she wants it, and she’s not going to want you, that’s for certain. So have a little self-respect above all else, and think about you for a second or two in the process.

The path to a woman’s heart is circuitous at best, and full of blind corners. It’s like The Legend of Zelda. It’s a deep, dark, foreboding maze, where the center is known but rarely seen. But if you reveal too much too soon in your path to the jeweled prize, you’ll quickly be right back at the entrance — one life down, wielding your sword in front of you like a lovelorn fool.

You have to play The Game. You’re not a fallen tree for a pretty lumberjack to catch. You’re a human being with an objective in mind — to win at The Game of Love. Putting all your cards on the table isn’t the way to take home the big bucks. It’s a game of inches. A little here, a little there and of course, a little more after that.

But her wish is not your command, no matter how badly you want her to rub your belly.

Many things are nice, but extremes are rarely among them. Whether it’s 100 percent you or 100 percent her, a monopoly never amounts to a winning equation. So scale back your ratios some, and go for golden.

 

Do you need me to wipe your tears and make it all better? Send an e-mail to advice@culturemap.com, or send a message to me on Facebook or Twitter. I’ve got Dora the Explorer Band-Aids and a big heart.

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