Dear Amy: I am a happily married 27-year-old woman about to have my first baby, and I am terrified because it isn’t my husband’s baby.
Last spring, another woman and I took a trip to the Bahamas. At the hotel I had a massage and was seduced by the masseur. I tried to resist, but I guess I got carried away. I sort of cooperated once things got started.
After some prenatal tests, my doctor recently told me that the baby’s blood type is different from both my husband’s and mine, which means the baby is not his. When the baby is born, it will be very obvious: My husband and I are white, and the masseur is black.
I can’t tell my husband; I think that he would leave me. It’s too late for an abortion. What can I do? Please advise me.
Notes from the Golden Orange
EppsNet Archive: Marriage
I’m telling my doctor about these shooting pains that I get near the back of my head, behind my left ear. Sometimes they don’t happen for months and sometimes they happen several times a day.
She says it’s likely to be caused by stress and tension.
“You don’t think it’s a brain tumor?” I ask.
“No, because a brain tumor would hurt all the time and the pain would get worse over time.”
“OK . . . that’s good to know because I didn’t want to deal with a brain tumor right now.”
“I’m not worried about it. And if I’m not worried about it, you shouldn’t be worried about it.”
“That’s what my wife said this morning. She said she wasn’t worried about it. I said, ‘Of course you’re not worried about it. It’s not your head.’ She said she wouldn’t worry about it even if was her head.”
“Let me say it another way. If your doctor is not worried about it, then you don’t need to be worried about it.”
I have a system that’s based on leaving myself visible reminders. I think it would work except that my wife likes to move things consistent with where she thinks they should be, even if they’re not her things, so instead of a working system I have a non-stop “Where’s Waldo?” challenge, which is not as fun as it might sound . . .
Why was I not informed about this? Seriously, I never knew St. Valentine was beheaded until today. Why am I always the last to know? Keep me in the loop, people!
According to History.com:
Under the rule of Claudius the Cruel, Rome was involved in many unpopular and bloody campaigns. The emperor had to maintain a strong army, but was having a difficult time getting soldiers to join his military leagues. Claudius believed that Roman men were unwilling to join the army because of their strong attachment to their wives and families.
To get rid of the problem, Claudius banned all marriages and engagements in Rome. Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret.
When Valentine’s actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death. Valentine was arrested and dragged before the Prefect of Rome, who condemned him to be beaten to death with clubs and to have his head cut off. The sentence was carried out on February 14, on or about the year 278.
For his great service, Valentine was named a saint after his death.
Michigan man dies in crash while driving and masturbating to porn on his phone — NY Daily News
Years ago, I was in a public restroom stall in an office building when I felt a mild earthquake. It occurred to me that a bad way to die would be to have a building collapse on you while sitting on a toilet, only to be pulled out of the rubble on the evening news with your pants around your ankles, covered in excrement.
But even that ignominious scenario pales in comparison to the egress of Clifford Ray Jones, age 58, who was driving down I-75 in Detroit with his pants off, watching a pornographic video on his phone. His hands were somewhere other than at the recommended position of 10 and 2 on the steering wheel when he crashed his 1996 Toyota and was hurled out the sunroof.
It’s embarrassing enough to be 58 years old and driving a 20-year-old Toyota, but to be hurled out the sunroof and killed sans pants, that’s the ultimate.
I told my wife, “If this happens to me, when someone asks ‘How did your husband die?’ please make something up. That’s my final request.”
Carol Dweck’s research is part of a tradition in psychology that shows the power of people’s beliefs. These may be beliefs that we’re aware of or unaware of but they strongly affect what we want and whether we succeed in getting it. This tradition also shows how changing people’s beliefs can have profound effects.
Dweck’s insight into fixed mindset (bad) vs. growth mindset (good) is powerful but there’s really not enough to it to sustain a book-length exposition without a lot of repetition and illustrational anecdotes, the problem with which is 1) they tend to be overly simple tales of triumph and failure with clearly identified causes; and 2) they ignore the inevitability of regression.
For example, two of the people Dweck identifies as exemplars of the growth mindset are Tiger Woods and Alex Rodriguez. Mindset was published in 2006, after which Woods’s career imploded in the wake of extramarital affairs with 100 or so women, and Rodriguez was suspended from baseball for cheating.
Among the companies singled out as possessing a growth mindset is Circuit City, which announced in January 2009 that it was going out of business.
Don’t get me wrong here, I think Dweck’s work is insightful and illuminating, I just don’t think it works well as a book. For a shorter introduction, try, for example, “The Secret to Raising Smart Kids,” recently published in Scientific American.
Our boy is very handsome, his mom says. She says she can’t understand how that happened.
“You don’t think I’m handsome?” I ask.
“We’re average-looking people, let’s be honest about it. You don’t agree?”
“I think you’re very beautiful.”
“You’re very handsome,” she says, after a pause almost too short to notice.
I have long maintained that the best way to kill someone and get away with it is to push them off a cliff. It’s simple, clean. no need to dispose of evidence, and reasonable doubt is almost assured.
Harold Henthorn scouted the remote area of the popular park 75 miles north of Denver nine times before bringing his wife with him. He was searching for the “perfect place to murder someone,” where there would be no witnesses and no chance of her surviving, prosecutor Suneeta Hazra said.
Don’t make nine trips to reconnoiter the scene of the crime. Don’t even make one trip. It’s both unnecessary and highly suspect.
Prosecutors argued the fatal fall was reminiscent of the death of Henthorn’s first wife, Sandra Lynn Henthorn, who was crushed when a car slipped off a jack while they were changing a flat tire in 1995 — several months after their 12th wedding anniversary. Henthorn has not been charged in that case, but police reopened the investigation after Toni Henthorn’s death.
Details of the earlier case dominated the trial. A paramedic who responded to the 1995 accident testified that Henthorn didn’t seem upset by what had happened, and an investigator said a shoe print found on the vehicle suggested it might have been pushed.
There’s a reason magicians never repeat the same trick. Just count yourself lucky for getting away with killing the first wife. A shoe print?! No . . . don’t kill any more wives.
Why was the first wife under the car to change a tire? I’ll lift the tire, honey, and you get under there and help me pull it on from the back. I would not want to explain that in a court of law.
She inherited a million bucks and when she died it came to me
I can’t help it if I’m lucky
It’s not very romantic, first of all. Did Romeo and Juliet marry their best friend? Did Liz and Dick marry their best friend? Did Scott and Zelda marry their best friend? Did Rhett and Scarlett marry their best friend?
A married person has to fill so many roles already: husband/wife, parent, sex partner, wage earner, handyman, cook, mental health professional, grammar coach, etc., etc., etc. A little help on the best friend front would be a welcome breath of fresh air.
I don’t know who my wife’s best friend is and I don’t care, as long as it’s not me. Men: if you need a best friend, buy a dog.
Men and women can marry each other, men can marry men, women can marry women . . . someday it will be legal to marry the sound of your own voice because some people are really in love with the sound of their own voice.
Sheryl [Sandberg] has made her husband, Dave, the role model for the perfect husband. She has said many times that the most important factor in her success was the husband she chose. And as late a week ago, she was saying that men need to do more, they are not doing enough, they need to take more responsibility. And, again, she held up her husband as an example. . . .
So then, I would like to know why was he on vacation in Mexico without Sheryl and without the kids? What was it a vacation from? Who was he with?
Why was Sheryl in DC instead of going to get the body? Why was Sheryl in DC instead of home with her kids? Why does Dave take a vacation when Sheryl is scheduled to be gone?
I wouldn’t ask so many questions except that Sheryl keeps telling me to lean in, but she doesn’t tell me how she does it. I ended up spending my 401K on household help, scaling back my career, and taking my kids on business trips that were magical at first and a bore thereafter. . . .
She tells me she and her husband try to make sure one of them is home with the kids, but it’s not what we have seen in the last five days. She doesn’t tell us if she has nannies. She doesn’t tell us how often she is away from her kids. All she tells us is that leaning in depends on her husband.
So can she lean in now? Can you lean in if you don’t have the perfect husband? What if it’s too late to get the perfect husband? She doesn’t address that, but maybe she will now. I have a feeling that the spokesperson for high-flying careers is going to get a lot more informative and helpful now that she’s a single mom. All the money in the world can’t buy a substitute for a parent showing up to kiss a skinned knee.
People who post love letters to their spouse on Facebook:
I’m a fairly smart guy. I’ve done smart things and dumb things. But by far, the smartest thing I ever did was 32 years ago today: I married [wife’s name]. I knew she was beautiful, smart, fun, and kind.
And pregnant. You left out “pregnant.” And that she has a father with a Sicilian code of ethics who was not going to let his daughter give birth out of wedlock.
What I’ve learned over the years is that she is all those and so much more. My wife is loyal, strong, persistent, faithful, courageous, generous . . .
Congratulations, you married a Boy Scout!
. . . and a person of great integrity. Additionally, she’s a gifted musician.
Oh come on, everyone knows that’s not true. She’s not even as good as me and I’m a complete phony.
At 24, I had no idea what a wonderful person I was going to spend my life with. Now at 56, I’m starting to get it . . . a little. Happy Anniversary, [wife’s name]. I love you!
Who is the target audience for this stuff? If you have something to say to your wife, say it to your wife.
Additional demerits if the love letter is a mishmash of trite sentiments that could have been written by anyone about anyone.
My first thought was that this woman should write a book. There are a lot of books out there about how to get a man, how to get a husband . . . how does one assess the credibility of the advice?
Normally a woman who’s markedly overweight and doesn’t have a single attractive feature can’t even get a date, let alone alone a husband, and yet this woman’s had 14 of them! How does she do it?! Who wouldn’t like to know her secret? I would!
Paste her grinning mug on the cover — the woman with 14 husbands! — and the book sells itself. Her upcoming jail term should give her plenty of time to write it.
It’s never just one thing. Incidents accumulate over time.
We’d all murder our spouses if we lived long enough . . .
Next month marks the 50th anniversary of Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s report on the black family, the controversial document issued while he served as an assistant secretary in President Lyndon Johnson’s Labor Department. Moynihan highlighted troubling cultural trends among inner-city blacks, with a special focus on the increasing number of fatherless homes.
For his troubles, Moynihan was denounced as a victim-blaming racist bent on undermining the civil-rights movement. . . .
Later this year the nation also will mark the 50th anniversary of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, which some consider the most significant achievement of the modern-day civil-rights movement. . . .
Since 1970 the number of black elected officials in the U.S. has grown to more than 9,000 from fewer than 1,500 and has included big-city mayors, governors, senators and of course a president.
But even as we note this progress, the political gains have not redounded to the black underclass, which by several important measures—including income, academic achievement and employment—has stagnated or lost ground over the past half-century. And while the civil-rights establishment and black political leaders continue to deny it, family structure offers a much more plausible explanation of these outcomes than does residual white racism.
In 2012 the poverty rate for all blacks was more than 28%, but for married black couples it was 8.4% and has been in the single digits for two decades. Just 8% of children raised by married couples live in poverty, compared with 40% of children raised by single mothers.
One important lesson of the past half-century is that counterproductive cultural traits can hurt a group more than political clout can help it.
Why does a Civil Rights Bill forbid me to apply racial criteria when I choose an employee but allow me to apply racial criteria when I choose an employer? If I turn down a job offer, should I be required to prove that my motives were not discriminatory? … Why am I permitted to apply racial criteria when I select a spouse but not when I select a personal assistant?
What do I mean by “save things”? My wife was tidying up the garage and found this checkbook. The date (Dec. 19, 1991, the month after we got married) and the check number (101) tells me that it’s the first check we ever wrote on the first joint checking account we ever had.
“I’m taking a self-defense workshop for women this weekend.”
“My wife knows martial arts.”
“What kind of martial arts does she know?”
“I’m not sure. She’s self-taught. She’s Asian, she thinks she’s good at everything Asians are supposed to be good at: martial arts, badminton . . . some people might say she doesn’t know martial arts at all, she’s just violent and crazy.”
As every married person here knows, love is a rotten substitute for respect. — Kurt Vonnegut