Where do you get off calling a guy shallow for being disappointed by a flabby woman when you rattle off penis size as a matching criteria? Are you aware that one problem is often correctable by exercise and the other one has no solution? How did you manage to take the defense/offense for your entire sex in one sitting, then turn around with your next lines about how you dump on guys?

What I'm wondering is why you're so full of shit!

—Marvin

I also hear voices that speak to me late in the night. Sometimes they are helpful, ordering me to clean out the hairy gunk coating the tile behind the toilet. Other times these voices are more nefarious, demanding I worship Satan and get a new tattoo—only this time on my forehead.

However, unlike you, I don't attribute these voices to people who write for newspapers. I usually ascribe mine to the demons that lurk under my bed, but perhaps from now on I'll start blaming Andrea Peyser.

To answer your question, I have no idea why I'm so full of shit. Nor do I have any idea what you're going on about. Flabby ladies? Small penises? I looked through the last couple months' worth of columns and couldn't find reference to either malady. Lucky for both of us, I have an over-stuffed mailbag and was able to sift through and locate a letter that suitably complemented your kookiness!

The reason I'm writing is because I need help and I don't know who to ask. We've been dating for about four months now, and things seemed good until recently. Suddenly he says he's not attracted to me anymore because I've put on weight. He says he loves me and needs me, but the weight is a problem for him and that sexually he's "not into it." He used to be very much into it. We used to do it five times a night. Up until now he constantly told me he loved me, that I was beautiful and was making plans for us to spend the holidays together. But last night he dropped this on me and said he wants to break up.

I demanded to get to the bottom of it, so he finally admitted it's because I'm too fat. I really love this man, and I can't bear to let this relationship go. We love each other and take care of each other, and I guess what I'm asking is whether we can work it out somehow. We talked about it, and he wants me to change. I'm in so much turmoil and pain that's unbearable, just at the thought of losing him. We're also 19 years apart in age. I accept his gray hairs and wrinkles, but he can't love me with 10 pounds more?

—Mandy

Apparently he can't. Or at least that's what he's telling you, because unless you're a midget, 10 pounds isn't a whole lot of weight—certainly not a disfiguring amount. There is a certain breed of men (of which I've been intimately acquainted) who will fabricate reasons to break up with you, if only to save themselves from feeling like crap about themselves. Why? Because they're busy cheating on you. If they can blame your fat ass for driving them away, they can kid themselves that they're not scandalous philanderers, unworthy of your trust or love and completely incapable of keeping it in their pants.

Then again, maybe he's a closet case. I once had a boyfriend who would yammer on incessantly about the hotness that was Kate Moss, and how I should try to look like her. Erm, no. First off, I'm of hearty Irish peasant stock; you could slice me in two lengthwise and I'd still have a bigger ass. Second, I don't especially want to look like I subsist solely on broiled fish and heroin. Instead of focusing on who he really wanted to be fucking (other men, it turned out), he went out of his way to make me feel like crap because I wasn't skinny enough! If I'd only been 10 pounds thinner (and about six inches longer in the crotch department).

Regardless of why Señor Citizen is dumping your fine young heiney, you should be glad to be rid of him. It's only been four months. If the myriad spelling and grammatical errors I had to clean up on your e-mail were any indicator, I'm estimating that you're probably only about 15 years old. I realize that at your age four months seems like a long time (even longer than summer vacation!), but in the grand scheme of things, it's a blip. For a geezer like the grandpa you're banging, hell, he's probably got ear hairs longer than that.

My advice: Forget him. Move on. Say you lose the 10 pounds—do you think that's going to make him lapse back into love with you? Nope. Once that excuse is gone, he'll tell you your hair's the wrong color or your eyes are spaced too far apart (or too close together) or you need to start dressing only in mauve poly-blend pantsuits. He'll drive you crazy (with stops along the way at the plastic surgeon and the mall), but you'll never meet his exacting standards.

And really, who cares? Fuck him. He's just a pencil-dicked, shallow piece of shit. (Happy, Marvin?) o