Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone

Dear Bartender: My 50s style boyfriend and I are trying to make the transition to just being friends, but we’re having trouble, erm, “unlearning” some habits of the physical nature. He’s just too handsome, with his hair all slicked upward, his two-tone shoes and his key lime pie 59 Chevy. But he wants to run off ~ solo ~ to LA to be an actor, and I’d like to start a family. It’s a hopeless affair, especially as I turned 39 today and my eggs are running amok. How do we stop this madness and get on with our lives? Garlic? Fisticuffs? Ill-fitting jeans?

~Yolked up

Dear Yolked: Great sex is great sex. Just because he wants to bolt doesn’t mean you have to give up the blue parts if you’re still having fun. Just memorize everything he’s doing and start thinking of ways to to teach it to the next potential Baby Daddy.

If great sex were food, it would be a soufflé — either dessert or the whole dinner.

On the House

Dear Readers: OK let’s step things up.

Those of you who’ve been with this site since we started have probably noticed a dip in the quality of questions. Used to be that people turned to Mitchell when they had a problem with their priest-slash-boyfriend, or were conflicted when their wives weren’t happy being “sex-surprised” by a homicidal clown.

Somewhere along the way the questions gravitated toward things like how much money a bartender makes, or what’s the expiration date of alcohol.

Your bartender is far more useful than just a person who makes your drinks, or a person who can tell you a recipe that uses pomegranate liqueur. Your bartender is sanity personified. You can tell him anything you want and he’ll give you the honest response you won’t get at home.

So let’s you and me figure out what this site is good for: solving the great mysteries of life or deciding if it’s safe to drink Bailey’s Irish Creme after Labor Day?