Dear E. Jean:
I'm married to a man, the likes of which you've probably never seen anywhere (except maybe Magic Mike movies). He's tall, muscular, Italian, with beautiful caramel-colored eyes and a jawline you could slice cheese on. What's more, he's amazing in the sack. We've been together five years, married for three years, and have a young son.
The problem is, in all his godlike physical perfection, he's a terrible husband. He never has a steady job, he likes to hang out with his friends (every one of them unmarried, mind you) until all hours of the night without so much as a phone call to me that he's not dead, and he doesn't help with any of the household responsibilities—I can't even depend on him to pick up a carton of milk.
I’m attractive, have a great job, a good education, and, luckily, I've been able to keep my head through all this and raise my son pretty much on my own. You may think any reasonable person would have divorced this guy long ago and moved on.
Well, I'm unreasonably stuck on him. When I look at him, it's as if he's never done anything wrong, and when he touches me, it's like the first time he laid those beautiful, strong hands on me.
I know in my head I'd be much better off without him, but I can't get the other parts of my anatomy to agree. ---Addicted to a Brooklyn Bad Boy
Addicted, My Darling:
Any “reasonable”person would have divorced this chap long ago.
But you are not a reasonable person. You are a genius. To continually see beauty in anyone—let along your own husband—puts you—with Kant, Hume, Plato, Plotinus, and Pat McGrath—into the highest rank of philosophers.
…………….not to mention, you love the lout. The solution lies not in leaving him, but in making those caramel eyes pop open with new ideas, and those muscles shiver with a smidge more reverence. How?
The Conflab—the group of viziers so wise that Gwyneth Paltrow could name one of her vibrating eggs in their honor for Easter—will examine your problem from about 99 different angles. Some will argue that I am full of beans and that you should ditch him. Other Conflabbians will explain to you how to sit down and talk with him. Me? I like action. So first, I want to look at his tricks:
He abandons you to raise your son "pretty much on your own”
You don’t say how old your son is—no matter.