My neighbour is finally cutting down the balsam that has been towering over my house and scaring the beejayzuz out of me every time there’s a wind storm. I’d go over and thank him if I knew his name.
I don’t know any of my neighbour’s names. They’ve all moved in over the past year and I never see them around.
Do you think I should go over with a plate of cookies or something? Besides, I’m single and he’s pretty nice, if you know what I mean.
Unattached and Thankfully Unterrified Neighbour
Cookies are always good, unless your neighbour is a diabetic. I remember the disastrous New Years’ Day when I invited people I had just met over for supper, with my usual spread of ham and the trimmings, only to find out they were vegetarians. It’s so tricky these days, manoeuvring around food preferences, nay, might one say, prejudices, nay one might even say, fetishes.
I wonder whether there is a basic, universal treat which one can offer, which does not offend anyone? Even booze isn’t a safe bet. Chocolate? Is anyone allergic to chocolate, besides dogs?
When you do go over, to thank him for making your house safer, be sure to wear something attractive, but not too suggestive. Or maybe invite him over for hot chocolate and a warm welcome.
You may never have heard of this predicament before. It’s why I’m writing to you, because I’ve never heard of anyone being in the kind of mess I’m in, and I have no idea what to do about it. It’s really embarrassing, so I can’t talk to my friends about it. I don’t even want to ask my doctor about it, because this is a small place, and they may say they keep confidences, but I was once friends with a small town doctor, and I knew the juiciest things about other people. Which of course I only shared with my closest friends. I have a lot of friends.
But I digress. My problem? Every time something touches my abdomen, I have an orgasm. It just started a few months ago. It also happens sometimes when I yawn. It is pleasant, but it means I have to keep clear of any projections in front of me, if you know what I mean, and guard my front against all comers.
My social life is deteriorating rapidly. My friends are wondering why I seem so tired all the time, and yet restless. Any helpful ideas?
I mean no disrespect, but I do remember reading somewhere that a woman taking antipsychotic meds had the same problem in reverse – every time she yawned she had an orgasm – something to do with the neurons. I think she changed her meds.
It seems unbelievable, but strangely, you can have too much of a good thing.
Good luck, my dear.
For obvious reasons The Flying Shingle tries never to disagree with our Dear Gabby, but unfortunately sometimes we do.
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