10 Insights Into Life, Love and Helping With the Laundry (from The Gospel According to Fritz)

I am the last person on earth who should be giving relationship advice. I am 42, single and live alone. My best friend is a cat named Frida. Think of me as a hybrid between Homer Simpson and Barney Gumble, except that I work a lot harder than Homer and drink somewhat less than Barney. All that said, I still cannot seem to help myself. So I offer the following insights from The Gospel According to Fritz. Sorry if it is a bit male-heterocentric, but I am drawing on my own experience:

If you suspect your partner of being unfaithful, not only are you probably correct, but you're most likely underestimating the real breadth and depth of their betrayal.

In most cases, the partner who initiates a break up is soley concerned with making the breaking up process as easy as possible on themselves. The will do almost anything--deceive, deny, disappear--to avoid having to deal directly with the spurned partner's feelings of sadness and loss.

Men who claim they are no good at monogamy are usually even worse at non-monogamy.

All men look at porn. This includes the ones you know, for a fact, don't.

When a man who refuses to marry a woman tells her, "It's just a piece of paper" or "We don't need the state to sanction our relationship," what he's really thinking is, "I want to keep my options open" or "I want an easy way out of this."

Women should never enter into friends-with-benefits arrangements with men in hopes those relationships will grow into "something more." They won't. Men who seek out friends-with-benefits arrangements do so because they prefer them to committed relationships. They don't want "something more."

People who are warm, kind, thoughtful, generous, intelligent and considerate enjoy numerous social advantages. Unfortunately, being irresistible to members of the opposite sex is not one of them.

As you go through life, you'll be amazed to find how many people's lives peaked at age 17 and went straight downhill from there.

Men, if you want to show your wife or significant other that you really love her, forget about buying her bouquets of roses or Belgian chocolates or Cartier watches. Forget about taking her to the hippest restaurants or the hottest clubs or hiking through the foothills of the Himalayas. All those things are well and good; you can do them if you like. But if you really want to show her your affection, help her scrub the kitchen floor. Help her scrape the grout in the shower. Help her iron and fold the laundry. Fix that leaky pipe as soon as she asks. Pick up the kids from school every day, on time and without fail. Most of all, do all these things consistently, without complaint, and without expectation of special praise. You'll never have to prove your loyalty to her in any other way.

Does the Red Eye's Chicago Really Exist? I Kind of Doubt It.

The sheriff slapped an eviction notice on my neighbor's front door this morning. Some of my co-workers qualify for food stamps because their wages are so low. A friend of mine, a man in his early 60s, lost his home last year. He now lives in the attic of his late brother's widow's house.

Yet each morning, I pick up a copy of the Red Eye, and read about a city I an scarcely believe exists. The Red Eye's Chicagoans are all young and pretty and gainfully employed. They dress in vintage clothes and sport kick-ass, full-sleeve tattoos. They spend summers sipping craft beers at rooftop bars and rocking out at Pitchfork and Lalapalooza. They try never to miss a Cubs game, and spend every evening exploring the hippest new restaurants with their hippest new friends. They are people who may worry about fulfillment, but never about survival.

My question is, do these people really fucking exist?

In a sense, I suppose they do. But I don't believe their lives are as carefree and happy as the Red Eye makes out. I bet a lot of them also worry about losing their jobs. I bet a lot of them also sweat about being able to pay their bills. I bet a lot of them know, in their heart of hearts, they will never, ever get those student loans paid off in full.

I wonder if, in a hundred years, historians will look at the Red Eye and laugh. With the benefit of hindsight, they'll have to know nobody ever really had it that good.

Just The Right Words

You want to find just the right words, not because you have anything to say to her, really, but because you want her to respond in just the right way.

With a raised eyebrow,

Or a breath of laughter.

You'd like to see her tuck her lower lip gently beneath her upper teeth.

You'd like her to reach out with her fingers and clasp your forearm, or caress your ear.

If you find the just the right words, maybe she'll even rest her head against your shoulder and close her eyes.

Her breath will warm your neck, her hair brush your cheek, as you sit side by side on an empty L car late at night, lumbering forward along the tracks into darkness cold and shrouded in fog.