Help! A Parent Brought Real Human Bones to a “Show and Tell.”

It’s Advice Week! In On Second Thought, we’ll revisit questions from the archives and dig into how much has changed since Slate began giving advice in 1997—and how much hasn’t. Read all stories here.

The 2000s—according to letters readers sent to Prudie—were all about human bones on the playground, cell phone bills (and etiquette), and marriage plans thwarted by a cat. Read on for some of our favorite Dear Prudence letters from the decade.

Dear Prudence,

Here’s a rather odd situation, and I wonder if I’m overreacting. Upon delivering my 4-year-old to day care this morning, I noticed (wedged between the hamster cage and the play dough station) a REAL human skull and a REAL human thighbone. Upon closer examination it was evident that these were not lab specimens because they were actually dirty. Upon questioning the teacher, she confirmed that indeed they were dug up—a child’s parent was a doctor and these were from his “private collection,” and that yes, he had “dug them up” himself. The kind doctor had brought them in for “show and tell” and then had left them for the kids (4-year-olds) to play with. I was horrified. I can think of a number of medical, health, ethical, legal, and religious reasons why it’s not a good idea to have 4-year-olds playing with human remains. I telephoned the director of the school and she, frankly, couldn’t understand my concerns. Only after I called the police and the medical examiner’s office did she reluctantly take them out of the kids’ classroom. Am I the ONLY one who thinks that these are inappropriate toys? Please advise.

—Horrified

Dear Hor,

Prudie believes your letter about human bones as play toys for toddlers may be a first in the annals of the advice biz. No. 1, the teacher is, pardon the expression, a numbskull, and so is the school director. No. 2, doctors do not “dig up” carcasses as part of their medical duties. One wonders if the father/doctor who provided the human remains is either a grave robber, or nuts. Actually, the only way Prudie can imagine access to a “private collection” of dirty bones is if this guy lives on an archeological site. From the sound of the situation, Prudie would recommend, if at all possible, that you take your kid outta’ there and find another day-care facility before the loony dad arrives with road kill.

—Prudie, huffily
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Oct. 26, 2000).

Dear Prudence,

To be honest, I’m not even sure this qualifies as a problem, but it sure feels like one. Back in high school I used to have this friend. To use the scale developed by another chum, he was the kind of friend you call to help you move, but not the kind of friend you call to help you move a body. I felt bad that, with time, we grew apart, but I took it as a natural process. He asked me to be his best man, which struck me as strange, but I said yes. We’ve spoken less than a half dozen times in the eight years since his wedding. Today I saw something that made me think of him, so I decided to look him up online and see what’s happening in his life. Thanks to his unusual last name, I found his Web site very easily. Imagine my surprise at reading his thoughts of toasting his brother’s marriage, in which he refers to the toast I gave at his wedding as glib and idiotic. (I was aiming for heartfelt and humorous.) Then I read a list of reasons why he didn’t attend our high-school reunion and learned he was avoiding another smug remark from me.

In his defense, there are fewer than 30 people who know that I gave the toast at his wedding, and there may be more than a dozen people in our graduating class with my initials, so it’s not as though I’m being slandered in cyberspace. To suddenly see him spewing venom in my direction is a bit disorienting, not to mention that my feelings are hurt. Part of me wants to tell him so, while another, perhaps wiser part tells me to leave it alone … perhaps writing him a letter, then tearing it up. Any thoughts?

—Wounded Out of the Blue

Dear Wound,

What an interesting situation … brought to you by the Internet. Write your letter, then tear it up. You would not change his mind by sending it, and why engage with someone who is obviously two-faced? Prudie’s guess is that this slam on you has more to do with him than you. You have no way of knowing how his life has turned out, whether he envied you, or if he felt some slight, real or imagined. The best man thing is a bit of a tip-off. Whenever someone is asked to be a best man and can’t figure out why, it is usually a sign the guy proffering the honor has no real friends. There is also a chance that you may have the qualities he is bloviating about—though Prudie’s instinct is to doubt that. It’s too bad you had to get this information, but now forget it. This is not a person who has any bearing on your life.

—Prudie, philosophically
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Oct. 19, 2000).

Dear Prudence,

I have recently discovered that my husband has been talking to women on his cell phone. I found out about it by looking at his cell phone bill. He admitted that he talked, a couple of times, to a woman he’d met while out with the guys one evening. He told me that talking to her on the phone twice was the extent of the “relationship.” I forgave him, and he promised he would never do it again. Well, just the other day I noticed a strange number on his cell phone bill again. It was the number of a girl he used to work with. I have heard him speak of her, but I have never met her. When I confronted him, he said that he was calling her regarding a car we were selling and she was possibly interested in buying. He made the call at 11:30 p.m. on a Saturday evening when he was supposedly at a soccer game with his friends. What do you think?

—Feeling Like a Fool

Dear Feel,

What does Prudie think? Prudie thinks your guy is on the prowl and will find new ways to advance his search. And because he now knows you are wise to the cell phone bills, he might become even more creative. Prudie knows one man who, to facilitate a social life on the side, had business cards printed with a made-up name and a phone number which, of course, did not ring at home. Some people think that when you constantly have to check up on a mate, he may not be worth having.

—Prudie, apprehensively
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Aug. 30, 2001).

Dear Pru,

Here’s the situation. I have a wonderful, amazing, almost perfect boyfriend whom I’ve been with for about a year and a half. We’ve got a fantastic relationship. There’s just one itsy-bitsy problem. Actually, I don’t even know if it’s a problem, but other people SAY it is. My wonderful boyfriend purchases the occasional Playboy. And I don’t care. I even read them. (For the articles. Really!) He kind of makes a half-assed (no pun intended) attempt to hide them. If it’s from me or from innocent bystanders, I don’t really know. Regardless, I usually manage to stumble across them with no snooping involved. He never gets defensive about it when I find them. It’s a nonissue with us. With my friends, however, it’s a different story. When I have told them in the past about the Playboys, they are appalled and question how I can allow my boyfriend to disrespect me in such a manner. Doesn’t it bother me that he’s looking at other women like that? And the Playboys are just a “gateway drug” so to speak. Next thing he’s going to be cheating on me with hookers or lap dancers. It’s difficult to be indignant when I’m voraciously consuming that which I’m supposed to be railing against. I guess my question is: Is this disrespectful?

—Feminist Who May Have Lost Her Way

Dear Fem,

Oh, please. It’s a magazine … and on the tame side, at that, from what Prudie understands “lad” magazines to be these days. Why are you even telling people his reading habits? In any case, don’t let your girlfriends get on your case. Respect—or lack of it—is shown by how a man treats you, not by what he reads. Plus, Prudie once wrote for them (when ice covered the earth), so how bad could it be?

—Prudie, liberatedly
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Nov. 04, 2004).

Dear Prudence,

I’m wondering what the etiquette is for newspapers and magazines in public places such as doctors’ waiting rooms or libraries. Can I do the New York Magazine crossword puzzle while waiting for my dentist? Or am I obligated to leave it as I found it? What about interesting articles or ads for products in which I might be interested? Is tearing them out allowed? Thanks for your help!

—Jack the Ripper

Dear Jack,

In a perfect world, magazines in waiting rooms would be left in pristine condition for all to enjoy. In the real world, however, people see something of interest and often, because the publication is dog-eared from wear, they tear out whatever they want or do the puzzles. Prudie, alas, pleads guilty. Anything in a library, however, must not be touched. The difference is that waiting-room reading material is to keep you occupied; anything in a library is for reference purposes. It may, in fact, be against the law in some places to tamper with anything in a library, whereas it’s unlikely that one’s dentist would make a fuss over a page ripped out of People.

—Prudie, compromisingly
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (June 02, 2005).

Dear Prudence,

I am a 25-year-old gay male. I live in a small city in the Bible Belt, close to my family, who also aren’t very open minded. They all know I am gay and even had a boyfriend, but they keep bringing up all the girls I “liked” while I was in middle and high school. What they don’t realize is that my true crushes were always guys. Every time something comes on the news about homosexuality or something comes along that makes them think they can “fix” me, they have to watch it and then mention it to me. Even in light of the recent study about how gay male brains react to testosterone like straight females, they insist that something is wrong with me. It gives me the feeling that their love for me is connected to how well I fit into their view of what is right and wrong. How do I deal with this sort of emotional harassment from people I love?

—Hopeless in the Heartlands

Dear Hope,

Prudie happens to believe the people in need of “fixing” are your family. Many people (let us hope most) understand that being gay is hard-wired and that there is nothing broken to “fix.” It is unfortunate that your relatives harbor the view that to be homosexual is to be wrong, sick, or ungodly. When the next effort is launched to remodel your personality, perhaps try the following in the hopes of stopping the harassment. Invite whomever is next to bring up the subject of what is “wrong” with you to stop for a moment and think seriously about changing his or her own sexual orientation; ask this person to visualize having a romantic relationship with a person of their same sex. If that doesn’t make your point, then announce the subject is no longer open to discussion.

—Prudie, empathetically
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Nov. 3, 2005).

Dear Prudence,

I am getting married this coming August to a man I adore. We are very much in love and certainly compatible, but certain people at my workplace and in my social circle have a problem with our ages … or more importantly, my age. My fiance is 30 years old, while I am only 22 (will be 23 at time of marriage). Our close friends and family have no problem with the age difference, and they’re very excited and supportive. We never saw our age difference as a problem until certain women in my workplace began commenting on how young I am and “how little experience” I have with life. I’m a recent college graduate with a good job and am a responsible adult. Instead of drinking and partying my way through school, I studied hard to finish a semester early. Yet I feel like they think I must be too immature to be married. I have been with this man for three years and we have built a very strong relationship. How can I tell these women I am hurt by their views and that it’s none of their business?

—T.S.

Dear T.,

My dear, eight years’ difference is a mere bagatelle. The kind of concern your officemates are displaying should be reserved for real May-December matches … like a 20- or 30-year age difference. Your situation might qualify as a May-June romance. Don’t bother telling these women that you’re hurt by their views or that it’s none of their business. If you absolutely can’t resist, tell them you wanted an older man because you want to get your hands on his Social Security. That ought to settle their hash.

—Prudie, sarcastically
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (May 19, 2005).

Dear Prudence,

I recently found a full-time job after looking for four years and two months. Yes, I’m one of the people you hear about on the news. I’ve worked part time, lived like a pauper, increased my skills, networked, did everything you’re supposed to do, but it took that long. I became extremely depressed, my credit is ruined, and it will take me years to dig myself out of this hole and rebuild my life and self-esteem. That’s not the reason I write, however. The reason is the way my friends and family treated me through this long ordeal. (I want to point out that I never asked to borrow, nor was I offered money from anyone, and I was $100 away from homelessness, and my apartment was being foreclosed on. I sold it in the nick of time and lived off the proceeds plus my part-time salary.) Even though they all knew exactly what was going on, they would constantly ask incredibly callous questions: Why don’t you have health insurance? Why don’t you get your hair dyed in a salon instead of doing it yourself? We never see you anymore!! Why don’t you want to go to dinner and the movies this weekend? Why don’t you buy a new car? Got the picture? The answer I wanted to scream was: “Because I’m broke! What part of that is evading you?!” I’m truly disgusted with all of them. Many people would say forgive them all and move on. They’ve all bitterly disappointed me with their tactless comments. I feel I need to make new caring and sensitive friends. I’m so hurt and angry I don’t even want to share my good news with them. Thank you.

—Finally Employed

Dear Fine,

If, as you say, people close to you knew of your dire situation, didn’t offer help, and asked all those lame questions, it just proves something Prudie has long believed: When you’re born dumb, you’re dumb forever. How perfectly insensitive and thoughtless, not to mention hurtful. When family and friends leave something to be desired—and in your case this is an understatement—it is time to choose more wisely. Do whatever makes you feel most comfortable—ignore them, forgive them, tell them off, or cut them off. And you have Prudie’s very best wishes for a successful new life.

—Prudie, optimistically
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (June 23, 2005).

Dear Prudence,

How do you respond to someone (a total stranger) who, out of nowhere, tells you to smile—or remarks on the lack of a smile on your face? In the past month I’ve observed the following incidents. At the checkout line in my grocery store, there was a woman in front of me and a man in front of her. The man looked at the woman, who was not smiling, and said to her, “You must be having a bad day.” She mumbled something in reply and gave an apologetic smile. After they left, I heard the two checkout clerks in the area speaking angrily to one another about what had just happened. One of them said indignantly, “What if her mother had just died?!” The other said, “I would have told him, ‘My day was fine until you came along!’ ” And so on. In another instance, a young man next to me at a sandwich shop, while placing his order, said to the young girl behind the counter, “Smile!” She quickly looked down at her work, cringed, and said, “Oh, it’s just been a long day, I guess.” (That’s the kind of response I probably would have made.) Then a few days ago, a male co-worker came into the office, annoyed, and said, “I hate it when people think I’m in a bad mood just because I’m not smiling. I’m not in a bad mood at all.” Apparently someone (another total stranger) had said something to him while he was in the parking lot. When it’s happened to me, I know I’ve felt offended. I don’t want to be rude, but they’re out of line, aren’t they? I just would like to know how a person is supposed to respond to these people.

—Smiling When I Feel Like It

Dear Smile,

These commentators are strangers? What’s up with that? Prudie thinks a proper response would be nonverbal communication. Something along the lines of knitting your eyebrows together, narrowing your eyes, and making the slightest sneer, all while cocking your head to a 45 degree angle.

—Prudie, huffily
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Aug. 11, 2005).

Dear Prudie,

I can’t believe I’m actually in this ridiculous situation. I am in my late 30s, dating a wonderful woman the same age. We’ve known each other for seven years, been best friends for five, and have dated for two of those. Why the wait? My girlfriend is a widow. She married her high-school sweetheart when she was 21 and he died in an accident less than a year later. Understandably, she has been hesitant to move forward with any commitment to another guy. I decided a long time ago that I wanted to marry this awesome woman, but I have been sensitive to her need to move slowly. I have tried to show her that I respect her love for her deceased husband and her slight sense of guilt in “moving on.” When I finally thought the time was right, I asked her to marry me. She said that she wasn’t quite ready and she wanted to hold off on marriage plans until her cat died. (Strange as it sounds, I felt it was a reasonable request since she and her husband got this cat together when they were married.) This cat, Pumpkin, was 16 when we made the agreement and seemed to be on his last legs. Prudie, that was almost three years ago. I hate to pressure my girlfriend to break our agreement, but this cat is a freak of nature that is ruining my chance at happiness! What to do?

—Non-Cat Lover

Dear Non,

Believe me, Pumpkin, who is now the equivalent of 80 in human years, has long since moved on. Your girlfriend did suffer a terrible loss when she was young, but that was heading toward two decades ago. Either she is truly stuck and needs some counseling, or she doesn’t really want to marry you but enjoys your company and stringing you along. I have the feeling that once Pumpkin turns into a pumpkin, your girlfriend may enter an extended period of mourning over him that leaves her unable to contemplate marriage. While Pumpkin might have nine lives, you have only one, and you have to get going with it. Tell her you need her to set the date now, or you’ll have to look for someone with less emotionally complicated pets.

—Prudie
Emily Yoffe From: Dear Prudence (June 29, 2006).

Dear Prudence,

I have fallen in love with a woman I knew from childhood and ran into again after not seeing her for 20 years. As kids we hardly noticed each other, but when we met again after all these years we felt an immediate attraction. The problem is that when I was 12 years old I did something terrible that caused an accident that killed her father. No one ever found out it was me and I’ve never told anyone after all these years. I feel horrible about what happened, but it was a long time ago and I’ve gotten on with my life. But now what? Should I tell this woman that I caused her father’s death many years ago? I’m afraid it would ruin our relationship and we love each other a great deal. The accident occurred when I was in a cornfield at night—we were throwing corn at cars when they drove by. We couldn’t see the cars because we were hidden in the field. An ear of corn I threw went through the open car window and struck her father in the head, causing him to lose control of the car and crash into a tree. I ran from the scene and was never implicated.

—Guilty and Confused

Dear Guilty,

History and literature are full of great loves doomed because of circumstance and fate. I’m afraid that being responsible for the death of your girlfriend’s father—and having kept this terrible fact a secret—adds you to the list. You are contemplating keeping quiet in order to keep the girl. That is cruel and untenable. Do you hold her hand and nod sympathetically every time she says, “After my father died …”? You cannot build a healthy relationship on such deceit. You mentioned there was at least one other person with you in the field. Imagine how your girlfriend would feel if whoever was with you that night finds out about your romance and sends her a letter about what you did. There’s no undoing the heartbreak caused by your childhood prank, but you have the power to at least answer the question for this woman (and her family) about what happened to her father that night. Telling her is the right and moral thing, and you have to accept that doing so in all likelihood will cause her to end your relationship. Before you tell, you also need to be prepared for the legal consequences of confessing. I talked to several law professors and they all said you should consult an attorney to find out your possible criminal and civil liability (and just to add to your dilemma, each said if you came to them as a client, they would advise you to keep your mouth shut). If you do decide that you can keep the secret and still live with yourself, then you must break off the romance. Her father died because of what you did accidentally; don’t destroy your own decency because of what you’re doing deliberately.

—Prudie
Emily Yoffe From: Dear Prudence (Sept. 07, 2006).

Dear Prudie,

My new girlfriend is wonderful. Funny, smart, well-educated. But how come she has to answer eight to 15 cell-phone calls per evening? She has one of those damn BlackBerrys, and she’s forever checking e-mails and sometimes getting phone calls every minute. I am not exaggerating. Does this mean she’s just popular? Or am I competing with (and losing to) a cell phone?

—Can’t Even Beat a Cell Phone

Dear Can’t,

She may be wonderful, but she’s also rude. We live in a time when people increasingly think it’s more satisfying to ignore the real world and disappear into the virtual one. Unless her work leaves her unavoidably on call, she is refusing to give you the courtesy she would extend to the other patrons at a concert. As lightly as possible, tell her you’re getting jealous of her electronic devices and that you’d like more of her undivided attention. If she interrupts this conversation to take a call, tell her to take a hike.

—Prudie
Emily Yoffe From: Dear Prudence (April 20, 2006).

Dear Prudie,

I have the good fortune of having a first name that isn’t common or popular: Rita. Unfortunately for me, the Beatles wrote what I consider an annoying little ditty when I was just an infant. I’m used to people singing me a chorus or two when we first meet. And I don’t even mind that they think it’s the first time anyone was clever enough to make the connection. My issue is with one of my co-workers. She takes every opportunity to sing this silly song as we pass in the hall, or when she walks by my desk, or as I’m sitting quietly in the lunchroom. We are in the same department, sit about two cubicles apart, and we see each other a minimum of six to 10 times every day. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but at the same time, I’ve started dodging her in the hallways and scheduling my lunch breaks when she’s back from hers. How can I tell her, in a nice way, to please stop?

—Not a Meter Maid

Dear Not,

If only your musical co-worker was named Molly, then you could reply with Little Richard’s “Good golly, Miss Molly, sure like to ball!” Stop worrying about the tender sensibilities of someone who assaults you aurally 50 times a week and speak up. The problem in these situations is that people often wait until they feel like ripping the offender’s lungs out before mentioning that they are annoyed. Since this is the first time your co-worker will hear that you’re not entertained by her song stylings, put on a smile and say with as much equanimity as you can that you would really appreciate it if she didn’t sing that Beatles song to you anymore. If that doesn’t immediately end the choruses of “Lovely Rita,” then drop the smile and say each time she starts, “I’m serious. Please stop.” Of course, some of us are luckier in our Beatles songs. My favorite starts, “Dear Prudence …”

—Prudie
Emily Yoffe From: Dear Prudence (May 03, 2007).

Dear Prudence,

Am I being prickly, or do I have a valid complaint? It drives me absolutely batty when I thank a waiter, sales clerk, or other paid service person and the response is “no problem.” I paid you to bring me my meal or find those shoes in my size, and the fact that it was or wasn’t a problem is of no interest to me. A few times I’ve actually responded that “I don’t really care if it was a problem or not,” which I know was wrong, but I was aflame with ire and it just came out. As for myself, whenever I am thanked, I always respond with, “You’re welcome,” “I’m happy to help,” or “My pleasure.” Is it too much to ask that others do the same?

—David M.

Dear Dave,

You have come to the right place. Prudie, herself, is a bit of a churl about that “No problem” business. It has, unfortunately, crept into the language and does not seem about to be displaced. Some phrases take hold and then go on to lose all meaning. Another regrettable example is the phrase “soul mate” which has become the supposed ultimate accolade to a spouse, fiancee, what have you. “No problem” is meant to be polite. That is, people who say it are not trying to be annoying, they are just linguistic sheep. In a hotel once, the music from a neighboring room was way too loud, and Prudie called the desk to ask them to please inform the offender. The answer of course was, “No problem.” When there were no results, and Prudie called back to repeat the request, again there was the mindless “No problem.” With exactly your feeling of “aaarrrgh,” Prudie’s response was, “Apparently you are mistaken, because it is proving to be a problem.”

—Prudie, outspokenly
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Aug. 05, 2005).

Dear Prudence,

OK, I’ll admit that I am a bit of a germophobe, but here’s my question: Is it really necessary for people to lick their fingers when paging through a stack of documents? Every time I have to sit there while co-workers do this to a stack of documents that I know will be handed to me, I cringe. The other day, a co-worker came into my office and regaled me with the tale of her weekend bout with the stomach flu. Then, she licked her way through a huge stack of documents that were my projects for the week. I was appalled! I sat there after she left this giant biohazard on my desk wishing I had some of that hand sanitizer stuff. Is there a polite way to ask people not to lick their fingers when touching things that they are going to give to me? Shouldn’t finger licking to turn pages go by the wayside now that there are things you can buy at office supply stores designed for that purpose?

—Loyal Reader

Dear Loy,

Of course it’s not necessary to lick their fingers while turning pages. It is a habit. Like you, Prudie has always found it unattractive but never before thought of the germ component. You make a good point. Regarding the “hand sanitizer stuff” (which is always in Prudie’s pocket, FYI), that would not solve this particular problem—unless you rubbed it on the pages. You really can’t ask someone to stop doing it because it’s a largely unconscious act. You could, however, go this far: Buy those little rubber things for the finger, which is what I think you’re talking about, and offer some to the evildoers with an explanation of the health aspect, but then let it go. And then put on thin latex gloves, if need be.

—Prudie, sanitarily
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (April 07, 2005).

Dear Prudence,

My boyfriend and I are both in our early 20s and have been dating for three years. We have a really strong relationship in almost every way, and I can’t imagine being with anyone else. But here’s the rub: My boyfriend is a genius. In so many ways, I love this about him. He challenges me to think about things, I am constantly learning, and he is always honest and rational. Unfortunately, these last two qualities have caused a bit of strain. I consider myself a very intelligent person also—nowhere near his level, but I’ve always felt confident academically. This sometimes takes a hit when I am around him. I rarely win arguments because I simply can’t keep up with him. In matters of politics or world issues, this can be frustrating, but it doesn’t really raise my ire. However, sometimes his argumentative style and calculating rationale are applied to our relationship. In many situations, I feel as though I am the one who has to compromise because he always wins the argument. I know my positions are reasonable, but I just can’t articulate them as well as he does. I have talked to my boyfriend about this, but I think he has a hard time seeing my point of view—that though my feelings may not always be logical or rational, they are still valid. Am I being unreasonable for wanting a little bit of slack, or should I just accept that I’m dating Dr. Manhattan and let it go?

—In Love With a Super Computer

Dear In Love,

Did you conclude on your own that your boyfriend is a genius, or is this one of the things he had to articulate to poor, dumb you? I don’t know what his IQ is, but his emotional intelligence comes in somewhere around “dolt.” I’ll take your word that you’re dating a virtual Einstein, but take mine that he’s an arrogant twit who’s got you confusing bullying for brilliance. It’s also possible he has some kind of disorder that leaves him unable to process the feelings of others. If so, he should be seeking help, or else he is destined to go through life alienating co-workers, friends, and loved ones like you. Actually, you might want to examine why you have spent three years being told by Mr. Spock that what you say has no validity because it lacks rationality. Mr. Spock and Dr. Manhattan are effective characters because while they seem human, their lack of emotion and empathy means they aren’t quite. So give your mastermind a copy of Emotional Intelligenceand tell him it’s about a subject in which he’s deficient, but it’s important for the two of you that he learn.

—Prudie
Emily Yoffe From: Dear Prudence (Oct. 16, 2008).

Dear Prudence,

I am a college student in my early 20s and have been married for three years to my wonderful husband. My problem is that I’ve got a huge crush on Michael Douglas, who is in his 60s. I watch his movies every day! At first my hubby just laughed it off and said he had crushes on celebrities, too, but now he’s irritated because I insist on him watching these movies with me and discussing Michael Douglas’ personal life all the time. I am not a stalker or anything. I am not writing him fan letters—though I’ve considered it. I have had mad celebrity crushes before, but this is the first since I’ve been with my husband. It feels like I am cheating and pushing my hubby away to watch movies that are older than I am. Please help!

—Cheating With the Movies

Dear Cheating,

I just saw the preview for Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, a Matthew McConaughey movie in which Michael Douglas appears as Uncle Wayne, a dead playboy. If the movie is as awful as the trailer—and since it stars Matthew McConaughey, I have every confidence it will be—sitting through multiple screenings just might be the kind of shock therapy you need. Also helpful would be to Google “Michael Douglas facelift” and see your dreamboat with his incisions oozing. If that doesn’t do it, get the HBO series Flight of the Conchords, about a failed rock duo, and pay particular attention to the character Mel. She is the pair’s crazed fan who forces her husband to accompany her as she stalks them. She’s what you don’t want to become. For that matter, you don’t want to end up one bunny shy of the Glenn Close character in Fatal Attraction. Having fantasies about a celebrity has got to be a nearly universal experience. (When I was walking through a lobby in Los Angeles and literally bumped into my first big crush, Sean Connery, my knees buckled.) But once you get past the stage of taping pictures of the Jonas Brothers on your wall, you’re supposed to be able to understand this is a limited, private indulgence that you don’t subject your patient husband to on a nightly basis. If you were bingeing on potato chips, you’d keep them out of your pantry. So get rid of the Michael Douglas oeuvre, and start doing things with your husband (besides going to the movies) that make you appreciate the young man you have for real.

—Prudie
Emily Yoffe From: Dear Prudence (April 02, 2009).

Dear Prudie,

My kids accidentally crushed their hamster, but at 5 and 6 years old, they’re too young to know. (I just told them she’d bitten into her lip.) To further protect them, I told them the veterinarian said she was fine but that she was not allowed to leave the hospital and was happy to be with her friends. I may be projecting—the sight of the hamster dying was awful to me, and it took two days to get over the depression. Some people think I should not “lie and pretend,” as they put it, by not allowing the children to “deal with the death.” I find it absolutely abhorrent to think of my children discovering that they were responsible for their pet’s death, when I, their father, could not go to sleep due to grief.

—Crushed

Dear Crushed,

I can almost promise you that after your kids were finished squeezing, sitting on, or hugging really, really hard their darling hamster, and it just lay there looking like a bloodied, dying hamster, even at 5 and 6, they pretty much knew, “Uh-oh, I think we killed the hamster.” Your reassurance that the hamster had a lip boo-boo and is now recovering at an extended-care facility has probably only imparted the confusing lesson that their hamster has Wolverine-like healing powers. (Your story must be the rodent equivalent of telling the kids the dog has gone to “live with people in the country” when it’s actually just gotten a shot of Fatal-Plus.) I understand that you’re stuck on an emotional hamster wheel, but you’ve got to get off and tell the truth. When you explain to your kids what really happened, you don’t want to be either punitive or despondent. You need to tell them that small, furry creatures require gentle handling. Sadly, their hamster died because they were accidentally too rough with it. If they cry, comfort them, and if they’re shockingly blasé, accept it. Answer simply but honestly any questions they have. If they want to know where the hamster is now, tell them the vet takes away the bodies of the dead animals. If they ask whether the hamster was in pain, you can explain that it was but the pain didn’t last long. And if they say they want another hamster—well, Dad, see if you can cross that Rainbow Bridge when you come to it.

—Prudie
Emily Yoffe From: Dear Prudence (Sept. 17, 2009).

Dear Prudence,

I recently married my dream husband. We have incredible chemistry and a shared commitment to each other. When we disagree, we settle our differences by balancing logic and gut feelings. That is, until we came to our disagreement on which laptop I should buy to replace my Mac PowerBook. We are both in the software industry and have strong preferences on which operating system we prefer. I have been a happy Mac user for years. My husband can’t stand the Mac, and his only explanation is the image associated with Mac users. Whenever he sees me with my PowerBook, he thinks of the “Get a Mac” commercials where Justin Long, who is a Mac, ridicules John Hodgman, a PC. I agree with him that the commercials are obnoxious, but they have nothing to do with the usability of the Mac. My husband said jokingly that I could get a Mac only over the divorce papers. I don’t believe he was joking. It’s getting to a point that we cannot discuss this without getting our blood boiling.

—Boiling Blood

Dear Boiling,

Adultery and alcoholism are well-worn grounds for divorce, but advertising incompatibility could open up a new chapter in matrimonial law. I agree with both of you (and Slate’s Seth Stevenson) that the Mac campaign is smug and sanctimonious, and has enhanced the appeal of the PC. However, what’s going on in your marriage has transcended the purported reason for your disagreement and entered the Jungian realm of shadows and projection. Too bad the blessedly commercial-free HBO therapy series In Treatment, which examined divorce, suicide, infertility, and cancer, didn’t tackle the issue of operating systems before finishing this season. I suggest you buy a copy of John Hodgman’s book More Information Than You Require and give it to your husband as a gift, explaining that you will always prefer Hodgman to Long. Tell him it’s causing you great distress that what should be a minor disagreement has become such a source of dissention. Point out that your husband fell for and married you despite your PowerBook. Now it’s time to upgrade, and, yes, you could get a PC to make him happy, but you don’t really think it would. You’d be resentful, and he’d feel guilty for forcing you. You could also quote a final word of wisdom from King Solomon: “[C]omfort me with [A]pples: for I am sick from love.”

—Prudie
Emily Yoffe From: Dear Prudence (June 25, 2009).