Call Me a Prude... REDACTED

So my sister, Jamie, didn't feel like I was being very charitable to either Ask Amy or dear "Confused," and I'll jovially admit that I wasn't. I was just blowing off steam in the ten minutes I had before jaunting off to class (I've been under a lot of stress lately, please forgive). But specifically, my sister wondered if I really expected Amy to advise anyone to shirk their moral values, and shame on me for pooh-poohing "Confused"'s values at all, how dare I. And I think she's right; I was a little hasty, so let's dispense with the snark and re-examine what was happening with "Confused"'s letter:

1) "Confused" says: I really want to have sex with my boyfriend, but my religion says that's bad. On the one hand, I identify with my religion; on the other, we're old enough and committed to each other (and we really, really want to). I don't know what to do.

Translation: My moral values were great up until the point I wanted to get laid. Don't tell me not to have sex; if I wanted to hear that, I would have just saved time and asked my local priest. What I really want to know is if it's okay to think for myself and question the relevance of many of the doctrines of my religion (oh, and I've been screwing my boyfriend for two months now, and it's great, thanks for asking).

2) Amy says: You can never un-do sex.

Translation: You can never un-do years of forced chastity, either. Or some STDs. Always use a condom.

3) Amy says: Don't go against your values.

Translation: The problem's with your values. They're the only thing keeping you from getting freaky-deaky between the sheets. And also: What else did you expect me to say? I already get enough hate-mail from you people. Learn to read between the lines.

To sum up, Jamie was right, I was being uncharitable. All along, Amy was advising "Confused" to do exactly the right thing: question your religion and make adjustments as necessary. Also, play it safe.

Speaking of sex, my ex confessed to me today that he thought I had an unfair advantage in the getting-laid arena. This may be true. But the reasons he cited weren't the obvious, such as my scathing wit or dashing good-looks, no. Rather, he was concerned that I had an edge because I attend a very large university where, in his fantasies, thoughsand of beautiful, available men run wild in the streets, and also that I must spend several hours of every day beating them off me with sticks.

Umm, no. Though I am sure I wish, somewhere deep down, that this were the case, my university is populated instead with numerous undergraduates, often fresh out of high school and by definition unattractive; two graduate students; and many, many professors who are, also by definition, Off Limits. And he, my ex, is a dj at a freaking nightclub, where he is surrounded by a multitude of women who are not only attractive and available, but also frequently drunk and scantily-clad. For christ's sake. I spend my free evenings playing Scrabble. Who has the competitive edge here?

Sheesh.