I Can’t Live with a Slob

Dear Suze, My guy and I want to live together rather than continue to alternate houses. We live close and can run home when we need our own space. He’s a slob, lives like a bachelor and never seems to think about my needs. I find my makeup buried under his stuff, his clothes wherever they land, haphazard piles in every room. Ugh. 

Dear Ugh, If you run away now when his slobiness overwhelms you, where will you go when you live together? A housekeeper will help, but it’s a temporary fix and won’t cure the underlying problem. What else are you running from? Make a pros/cons list. Talk out the nitty-gritty details, brutally honestly, of what bugs you. Try a trial run of living together for a month. If that feels great, finalize the move. If not, DON’T move now, maybe in the future. Don't lie/pretend/exaggerate about whether it works, and NEVER settle for less. -SQ

Naked and Old (But Young at Heart)

Dear Suz, Did you know that July 14 is international Nude Day? Started in New Zealand by a TV guy and immediately trended. My 65-year-old husband strutted around the house all that day and every day since. I kind of enjoy it too. I thought our sex life was gone but our naps have turned into delightful afternoons. It’s put a new lease in our life. 

Dear Au Naturel, yea! Fun facts ➡️ (trust but verify, could be total b.s.): Nudity -reduces Alzheimer’s because walking barefoot stimulates brain neurons; -improves circulation without restrictive clothing and unexpected pats on your bum; -sleeping nude helps the body’s core temperature to thermoregulate (drops 1-2°C) to start and sustain restorative sleep. What else, readers? -SQ

AI Trade! Just $20!

Dear S.Q. I read your blog yesterday on crypto scams. Even though my college kid doesn’t have a trust fund, he does have an Econ class requiring a project as 85% of his grade, and he’s asked for my help since I’ve dabbled in the stock market all his life (and still I know so little). Long gone are the days my broker called with a hot tip, but I keep a financial planner on speed-dial, joke here. We baby-boomers have seen all the scams, so I’m confident... with AI and social media advice IF I vet it as solid. But my kid needs to learn everything and this Finelo company seems legit. Any thoughts?

Dear Dad, I'm sure you've read the AI summary on Finelo, "The All-in-One Trading Learning Platform & Tools!" as I have. I understand that it's a legit educational app and registered company. The cons: aggressive and confusing marketing and subscription billing. It's an educational course with daily lessons, but you'll still need to do the actual trading. Seems a good place to start. He'll learn from the ground up and you'll fill the gaps in your knowledge. Scams are still everywhere. Trust, but verify. -SQ  

Celebrities Shilling for Crypto

Dear S.Q. Our 20 y.o. believes quick-rich schemes touted by celebrities and wants to invest ALL his trust fund in crypto. He doesn’t have independent control until he’s 25, but asserting “Hell NO! It’s a scam!” or a parental ultimatum doesn’t seem wise. So?

Dear Parent, A perfect example why trust funds aren’t available until age 25! Substantial scientific findings are that maturation continues in the prefrontal cortex of male humans into the mid-thirties, which is critical for decision-making, social judgement, and social/emotional regulation. Capitalize on your remaining 4 years to work with him on finances that will affect his entire life.

Make them teaching moments. Ex: give him his entire trust fund now in monopoly or fake money. Tell him that if he agrees to this project AND makes a greater profit in 1 year than it currently earns, you’ll CONSIDER releasing trust funds early. Together learn to buy, sell, and hold trades. Keep records. Talk regularly, require his written daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly balance sheets just like a team leader/sales manager in a brokerage firm. Learn investment strategies together. Teach him not to be that “sucker is born every minute.” -SQ

Lesson From Empathy

During my 5 year dating fling seeking my Prince Charming, I learned a lot about myself. Some good, some painfully ugly. In the psych business, we call it “insight” and swear it makes you better and stronger when you practice merciless, honesty talking to the person in your mirror. Another brutal exercise is to stop focusing on yourself and truly see something from someone else’s point of view. 

Wren and I were both in our 60 with grown kids.  He also had twins in third grade that loved bike-riding; I tolerated Pilates 3x/wk. How tough could it be to relearn to bike? He was a chemist; I was a math major for a year at UCLA eons ago. He slept by 10 and up at 5, exercised, took care of business before working for 8 hours. I was nearly retired and slept the same as a mindless teenager, 2-3 am until 10 or so. As he walked me to my car after our seven hour date, I was daydreaming about how I’d fit nicely, with some adjustments, into his world. He said he'd had a nice time, but I "was not active enough."

Gobsmacked. I was so embarrassed. Why hadn’t I seen this coming? My mirror and I had a long, tearful chat that night, and was told to get over myself and see it from his POV. Fast forward to living together. His week with the kids —he’s up before dawn to do his stuff; wakes them at 7 for breakfast and morning routine before piling into the car for school and work. I roll over and sleep several more hours. I putter all day because I’m nearly retired, and because I can. Everyone’s home by 6, for a fabulous meal I slaved all day creating (or pre-bought). Vibrations emanate off the kids wondering when I’m going to disappear forever so they don’t have to share Dad any longer. Homework, bedtime routine until 9, and lights out for him too. Or, he has homework and I read. 

Off weeks, no kids. He’s up when it’s oh dark thirty for alone time, kisses me at 8 (who’s still in bed) and off to work. After, a bike-ride, brisk hour of tennis, or sweat-dripping pickleball, and dinner. Relax with opera or blues in the background while reading, as I watch some psychologically twisted story on TV. I need quiet when I read; he dislikes TV. He’s tired and ready for sleep as I’m just metabolically winding up. I’m ready to play cards on-line. Or better yet, surf dating apps. Yup, he’s right. How in my right mind did I think this could work? Had I put myself in his shoes, even a few times during that seven hour date, I would have had an accurate understanding of our wants and needs, and how incompatible we were. Insight, foresight prevents hindsight blindsight. For the whole miserable, embarrassing story, read Chapter 22 of my debut book, available on Amazon, Google Books, and Walmart. Whoo hoo! Cyber Frogs And Princes: A Sex Manual Of On-Line Dating After 50 by Suze Q   -SQ

Beyond The Sexual Comfort Zone, Book Excerpt: Mick

"There are psychological schools of thought that in order to establish rapport and to truly understand a patient, you had to join them where they were, whether this was a certified psychotic patient who believed that he was hearing messages directly from God or a sex addict who thought about nothing except orgasms all day long," reads the opening of Chapter 9: Mick, in my debut book, Cyber Frogs And Princes: A Sex Manual Of On-Line Dating After 50 by Suze Q. It continues, “I drew the line at whatever I thought could hurt my career if exposed, but sexting and telephone porn was one way I allowed myself to learn about their secret worlds. These trips took me beyond my comfort zone at times, but I chalked it all up to psychological research, which of course, was total B.S., and fun that was no one's business but mine and his." 

Mick was a Scottish builder I met playing Texas Hold 'Em. He'd dwelled in a small town all his single 37 years of life. Saying I lived in California made him imagine I partied regularly with movie stars so his instant lust was mixed with star-crossed fantasies that Hollywood has infused into every far flung whistle-stop in the world. We created our own fantasies for a week or two… -SQ

Dirty Talk, Dangerous Thoughts

During my escapades of searching for my Frog Prince in my 60s, I met guys on-line through dating sites, and virtual gambling rooms. Attraction and flirting was as titillating as the game itself. Nico was a Greek married business man that turned into an insatiable horn-dog once the teasing turned to fantasy. Here's a snippet to whet your appetite or scare the bejesus out of you like he did to me, even from 7,000 miles. 

"Then red flag number two was waved when he wanted to put his cock in my mouth 'until you choke.' I immediately texted, 'NO,' and just as quickly, he corrected that he didn't mean until I 'passed out.' I got the gist that we were acting out one of his kinky fantasies, and I had the overwhelming sense that if I did pass out momentarily, that would be a fabulous turn-on. He said he still wanted me to name what movie star I looked like so that he could visualize me while masturbating... He was especially interested in learning what American women enjoyed the most about 'S&M.'" Had this been real, I wonder if he knew "the international code to call 911 before I became the cult heroine of his snuff film?" 

For the whole story, turn to Chapter 10: Nico, in my debut book available on Amazon, Google Books, and Walmart. Cyber Frogs And Princes: A Sex Manual Of On-Line Dating After 50 by Suze Q. You'll never look at Greek sweets the same way again. -SQ