Dear Jackie and Jared,
My boyfriend is a video-game-aholic. After a hard day's work, all I want is to come home to my man and have a little dinner, a cocktail, and some mutual massaging that leads to some lovin'. But as soon as I walk in the door, I find my man's morphed into a prepubescent geeky gamer in his easy chair, hands firmly attached to his joystick! He gets so immersed in his game that he can barely lift his eyes from the screen to look at me when I'm talking to him. I'm all for a good game every now and then, but if I have to hear any more marathon computer generated explosions and gunfire, it's gonna be me to blow next.
What do I do?
Dear Halo Hater,
I got an idea for ya. Drive yourself to the Pleasure Chest on Santa Monica in West Hollywood. I guarantee you can buy yourself something with handles and buttons that vibrates and makes all kinds of cool noises (or maybe that responsibility falls on you, hot stuff.) Tonight when you get home, tell your dude that you've bought a really cool new remote. Toss off your terry cloth robe to reveal your Lara Croft costume and present him with his new toy. That's sure to have him calling "Game On!"