Advice Column: Fumble In The Friend-Zone

Hey J!

I need your help, your heads up, your advice!

See there is this girl. We are like best friends, hang out all the time, really get along... you get the picture. Now a few weeks back we had a moment and kissed. Since then we enjoyed the company of each other even more. We kissed every once in a while, she spent weekend nights at my place but we never had sex. So yeah I guess we where both quite comfortable with the situation. No strings attached. Simply enjoying our togetherness.

So then we hooked up again, we were at my place and... we had sex. I mean it was not great but not bad either. So as you can imagine things got a little awkward since then. We kinda talked about it, she promised me that she doesn't regret what she did and we decided we will still be friends with the occasional hook up, but no sex!

Since then we went separate ways and things are really awkward. We try to be normal but somehow it's not at all.

J! Help me out here, what can I do? I mean, I think I would like to hang out with her again and stuff so buddy need your advice

Regards
whatcanIdo?


　
Dear WhatcanIdo,

J-Wunder asked me to take this one, because he is currently riding a bus from his shanty in the East Bay to San Francisco, like a Tijuana Hooker on her way to her first donkey show - all because of the goddamn BART strike. And I am pretty sure he is wanted in connection with those deaths on the BART, so if we don’t hear from him for a few days, well, um yeah. But just like any 3rd rated donkey show, it must go on.

I love when we get emails a la ‘Sweet Valley High,’ because it reminds me of a kinder, gentler time; before snap chat, dick pics, pussy shots, and whatever else we can think of sending electronically in this day and age. Your email read like the sweetest Dear Abby letter and I am going to try to be as nice as possible when I tell you what I am about to tell you:

Until you are both grown ass people who can handle it when you do grown folks business, don’t do that shit. EVER. You should have left it at some smoochy-smoochy and never gone for the sexy time. Clearly you like this girl and she probably likes you too. Like, LIKE likes you. She probably even liked the fucky-fucky you gave her, but then shit got real. And probably not even that real, but real enough for you to be twisted up like a thong up a fat chicks ass-crack.

I am almost positive you have never seen the movie "When Harry Met Sally," because I know I was only 8 when that shit came out and I think it would be safe to bet that you are under the age of 25. Correct me if I am wrong about your age, but me being wrong is a pretty fucking rare occurrence. The gist of one of the most famous lines of that movie is that guys and girls cannot be friends without trying to slip each other the business, and then when you get your friend-fuck on, someone always catches a case of feelings and then shit gets fucked up. Sounds pretty familiar, no?

Guys and girls need clearly defined boundaries when it comes to any kind of relationship. Hell, most people need boundaries when it comes to dealing with the masses. And you know what you and your little chicky-poo did? You went out and got some blurred lines. But way less catchy than that shit Robin Thicke did (and stole from Marvin Gaye) that I now can’t get out of my goddamn head. You all went and drew a line in the sand, crossed that shit out, drew another one, jumped over it, and now you are all fucked up.

It is very simple, dear heart. If you want to be friends, you can’t fuck. If you want to be fuck buddies, you can’t really be friends, unless BOTH of you have no romantic feelings for each other (do not confuse love with the lust you feel "down there" when you want to get your bang on and don’t want to pick up some gutter slut at a bar). And y’all not catching feelings from riding the P.T.E. out of the friend-zone is about as likely as me not rolling my eyes every time someone says some thing stupid to me at work. That shit just ain’t happening. REAL TALK.

Me thinks you have a case of the feels and that is all fine and dandy, because it’s ok to get butterflies in your tummy that aren’t from liquor shits and late night Taco Bell. Does your lady friend have a case of the feels, too? If so, then go be a couple and do all that romantic couple crap that makes me want to vomit in my scotch, but secretly wish I could find some trick that I like enough to hold hands with in public and leave the lights on during sex. Speaking of sex... if y’all get together you get to bang each other on the regular. Uh, helloooooooo! WINNING! And I bet it won’t even be all awkward and shit. Side note, no matter what your friends tell you, the G-Spot is not a myth. Trust me.

Let me paint you a picture. I am friends with this guy that I have mentioned in previous columns that I call "Hey-Thunder." He’s hot, I am hot, we are both smart-asses that like to drink, like bitches with big boobs, and all kinds of other buffoonery. We are such close friends we have even been known to complete each other’s sentences from time to time. But you know what we don’t do, no matter how awesome our friendship is, how drunk we have gotten together, or how many times he has begged me to take snap chats of his butt-hole? We don’t fuck on each other.

And do you want to know why?

Because even though we both love to fuck, do fucked up shit and a myriad of other things, we value each other as friends, first. That, dear heart, is what we call a grown folks move. No matter how many times we are out together, we know we have to roofie other people, and not each other, if we are looking for a drunk sex-capade. That is what wisdom, maturity, mutual respect, and one of us maybe having some undiscovered STD’s will bring out in a true male/female friendship. Otherwise, it is just one person pretending to be friends with the other person in the hopes that the other person will "like LIKE" them back. Life is not a rom-com and that shit only happens about 23.874% of the time. The rest of the time one person gets butt-hurt and people can’t be friends anymore. And now you have to go find a new person to roofie at the bar.

I could keep going, but I am sobering up and J-Wunder keeps sending me pics of something, asking me if it looks infected. I can only hope it is his big toe, because from what I can see in the grainy pic, I don’t think a penis is supposed to have a toe-nail looking thing on it.

Just remember, it's not  me, it's you.

H-Bomb.com

Advice Column: You're As Dumb As They Come

Dear J-Wunder:

Help me! Let me just rattle off the sitch for you below:

1. I've had the same fuck buddy for 2 1/2 years.
2. Said fuck buddy has lived with his girlfriend for the past 7 years.
3. Fuck buddy has the best of both worlds and only uses me when it's convenient (which is usually every weekend), HOWEVER, shit man, that is convenient for me too! (and yes, his girlfriend is a total space case and doesn't question him when he doesn't come home at night on the weekends)
4. How am I ever going to get the fuck over this cheating-ass-SOB and get myself a boyfriend when dude wants to fuck me every weekend, and I wanna fuck him every weekend.
5. The sex is great.

So, what kind of hilarious suggestions you got for me!?

Sincerely,
I can't think of a creative name - give me one of those too



Dear Idiot,

After reading your question, the only creative name I could ever give someone in your position would be, "idiot". Why? Because you're a fucking idiot. Idiot.

Now, while the hundreds of thousands of Ghetto Genius fans sit in front of their Smartphones and computers anxiously anticipating what the fuck I'm going to say, I know for a goddamn fact they are all thinking one thing:

THIS.BITCH.IS.STUPID.

She must have fell down the dumb fuck tree and hit every damn dip shit on the way down, huh?

You know, I have read a ton of questions in my blogging days and none come close to this one. Why? Well, because this one is special. This one says to me, "Hey J-Wun, there really are some stupid mother fuckers that really ask questions like this in real life. She wants honesty, give it to her like you gave it to that one chick in the Sizzler's bathroom back in 2006."

I don't know where to start, let alone, begin. I'm just going to start typing, so whatever comes out of this column will be my final answer with some sort of solution. Ready, bitch titties?

KILL YOURSELF. PLEASE.

Kidding...kind of.

Here we have a situation that involves probably two of the dumbest people on the planet.

Dumb fuck #1 goes to...

THE GIRLFRIEND.

Either the boyfriend is a master of "playing the game" OR his gal of 7 beautiful years is a goddamn idiot. I'm going to go with the latter and say this broad is not only dumber than a bag of hair BUT probably needs to learn how to breathe-in through the nose and out through the mouth. Any smart woman would find out within a change of boxer briefs her man is doing her dirty and bumping uglies with Skanky McSkeezer because bitches be smart like that sometimes. What woman on this goddamn earth would date a brother and not come to some sort of conclusion that he might be up to something if his ass is always out for "X" amount of time every weekend? Hey, I get couples like some independence in their relationships but the truth is, that shit would not ever fucking fly without something being a little suspect, ya dig? I mean, every weekend he's fucking you? EVERY WEEKEND? Dude must carry around a bar of soap 24/7 because no sane and normal woman would be able to ignore the fragrance of vadija (vagina + dick + sexual juices all mixed in) juice. Hell nah. Don't matter if you say, "it don't smell"...it smells mother fucker, trust me. That's like when you fart and you can't tell a thing but the other 20 people around you are about to roll over and fucking die. Same concept minus the fragrance of dookie and Mexican food. Wait, what?

Bitches might be crazy, but they ain't stupid. Ok, this bitch is fucking stupid but you get the point.

So we know the GF is about as sharp as a bag full of wet marbles and her tank of give-a-fuck runs on fumes. Good for that dumb twatsicle. I am going to go out on a limb and guess she may even have a side piece of her own. I am going to make this limb even sweeter, and guess that she is down for the punanne and not the wang. Because ain't no bitch that loves the dick gonna deal with dick that is on-the-go every fucking weekend. Especially if he's as good at deep dicking as you say he is. Dick loving women without side pieces LOVE shit like going to brunch and Bed Bath and Beyond on the weekend, and if this dude is constantly sticking his weiner in your schnitzel, he is not shopping and brunching with his beloved. Ain't that a bitch?

Maybe dude is rich like Scrooge McDuck and he just lets her swim in his vault full of gold coins and for that reason she doesn't care what he does with his dick as long as the check don't bounce. Case in point, Hugh Hefner. None of those Hoes Next Door care that they are 1 of 7 or 9 or however many cases of the clap he is employing this week, because THEY ARE PAID. Now, I ain't saying she's a golddigger...

Moving on...

The award for Dumb fuck # 2 goes to...drum roll, please...*cue loud ass trumpets*


Y..........O..........U............

Why, you ask? BECAUSE YOU ARE A FUCKING MORON. Now, I don't mean to be rude. Wait, what? Yes, I do mean to be rude, because you are obviously not smart enough to use some common fucking sense and get the fuck on with your life. You have been fucking this dude on the side for 2 1/2 years and you know he has a girlfriend? You are a skeezer, a skank, a scally wag, and all the other S words that describe women like you.

Did Daddy not hug you enough growing up and now you don't have any self-respect? What do you do for work? Does it perchance involve a pole, 7" clear plastic shoes and a "stage name?" My guess is yes...yes it fucking does, you goddamn taint goblin.

You are the epitome of "looking for love in all the wrong places."

I gotta say, the best part of your questions had to have been #4:

"How am I ever going to get the fuck over this cheating-ass-SOB and get myself a boyfriend when dude wants to fuck me every weekend, and I wanna fuck him every weekend."

RULE #5 on FWB or FB: If at any moment you spend more than 6 months to 1 year fucking the same "fuck buddy" or "friend with benefits", you have automatically committed yourself to a relationship you will deny over and over and over again. Then proceed to convince yourself and others, "It's just about the sex." Yeah, and Oprah is broke as fuck too, right?

Say whatever the fuck you want. If you can't find a piece of dick outside this dude, two things stand true:

1) You like the mother fucker.

2) You're in love.

By telling me you want to nail this guy every weekend, goes to show you want no other dick. You just say you do because you're trying to "play that card." This isn't about your fuck buddy because at the end of the day, he still has a girlfriend and would probably replace you if you did call it quits. If you don't think he would replace you, guess what? He still has somebody else...somebody he's also been fucking for the last 7 years and has been living with the last two. Winning like a mother fucker, right?

You have your work cut out for you, Skank Sally Magee. You're fucked only for the simple fact that you don't even sound interesting in another relationship and are convincing yourself you want one. However, if you are interested and do move forward on finding a man, I will guar an-fucking-tee one thing, and one thing only...

YOU'LL STILL BE FUCKING YOUR FUCK BUDDY.

Don't believe me, try it out. Ba-leed dat.


You can take that shit to the bank,

Mr. Ghetto Genius

Dyslexic Lust

There comes a time in every woman’s life that she finds a rare and special relationship (for lack of a better adjective) where two people mutually agree to bone and never make demands, requests, or have expectations, other than some hot monkey loving. The problem arises in that beautiful, mutually beneficial pairing when one person tries to take the FB and make it a BF. Calm your tits ladies, I am not picking on us women, but let’s all drop a truth bomb on ourselves and admit that we do that shit. I like to call this phenomenon Dyslexic Lust. You know you can’t turn a Hoe into a Housewife, so why do women usually want to change that FB into a BF?

Simple.

Because when we get fucked so thoroughly that our toes curl, it also causes our ovaries to tingle and send little thoughtsicles to our brain, screaming at our body to do what ever it takes to make this person stay the night, go to brunch with us and then go see some dumb Rom-Com and cuddle. And that shit is real, so don’t even throw me side eye through your screen and act like you did not just do that shit. On Saturday. You silly bitch.

Fuck all that noise, ladies. I am going to give some unsolicited advice on Dyslexic Lust and how to avoid that shit like the plague, so you can keep that Fuck Buddy goodness going as long as you both want.

First, let me clarify something. There is a difference between Fuck Buddy and Booty Call. A FB is someone that you usually know, and have some sort of friendship-type thing with- also called a “friend with benefits.” A booty call is someone you literally call every once in a while for sex, late at night, probably under the influence. I am talking about the latter. Now that we have that all cleared up, let’s get back to our regularly scheduled fuckery.

I speak from experience on this subject because I have had a wonderful FB for the better part of 2 years. But I almost fucked it up, trying to turn my Hoe into a Husband. My FB is awesome for a few reasons. 1) He is funny as fuck. He makes me laugh so hard I have almost peed my pants. Drunk karaoke? That mother fucker LOVES it. And I love watching him do it. 2) We have soooooooo much in common. i.e. we like to get drunk, watch porn and fuck each other’s brains out. 3) There is no three. Just one and two. And with all that I thought I could take him from FB to BF.

One night, not too long ago, instead of our usual getting a couple of drinks and some taquitos before we boned, we went out on a proper date. And let me just be honest with everyone, IT WAS AWFUL. Take away the few things we like to do (drink and drink), and we were as dry as Joan River’s vajayjay. For two people who have some amazeballs, eyes-rolling in the back of the head sexual chemistry, when we went on a date we were lame. Then we went to his house and had sex. Normally, with us it is the sexual Olympics, this time it was the sexual Special Olympics- that shit was just not right. Afterwards, I tucked my panties in my purse and as fast as I could, scurried the fuck out of there. We never spoke of this night again and thankfully resumed our FB situation where we hang out, get drunk and do things to each other that would make a goat throw up.

I had to realize that the only thing this fucker could do for me was, well, fuck me. I had to get real with myself for a minute and aks myself some tough questions. Would I take this guy home to meet my parents? Maybe, because he is a funny fucker. Would I be able to stand him for more than a few hours? Probably not. And then I had what alcoholics call a moment of clarity. One time after some good boning, I looked at him and said, “ I don’t even really like you that much, as a person.” And I thought back to that moment and realized that this guy was so not the one for me, for the long term.

I know some of us single ladies are looking for “the one”, but just because the guy can give you a major case of the O face, does not mean you need to pick out china patterns and start thinking about baby names. And if down the road, you two look at each other with eyes not clouded by sex and think that shit could work out between you two, then do it to it. But if you both are only down to bone, then be all about being down to bone and don’t try to make a square peg fit into a round hole. Fuck that shit like it is the last piece of ass you are going to get and when it is time to move on, high five each other, say “Good Game” and peace the fuck out.

Since my last episode of trying to turn my FB into a BF, I have a new mantra in my life, from the Poet/Genius Treach; and I do not “put my heart in a part of a part that spreads apart.” Those are some words to live by.

Now go forth and bang, good people. You are fucking welcome.

A Job with "The Perks"