Better Dead Than Red (in Bed)

Love advice from the Scene's resident literary Lothario

Dear Damian: I met this really great guy last semester at school. He's kind a of a good ol' boy, but he's really sweet and respectful, so I'm trying to look past some of his more unrefined attributes. But there's one issue I can't get around: Every time we are having sex, he starts saying all this really redneck stuff. Last night, after our usual foreplay (consisting of him shouting, "Git up here! Git yer shirt off!"), we began making love and he started saying, "Am I tearin' ya up? Am I?" He calls himself the Slaw Daddy, and his way of signaling that he's feeling randy is usually expressed by the phrase, "Slaw wants some pie." Help! I really like this guy, but I don't know how to tell him that his pillow talk makes me cringe.

—I Fought The Slaw

Dear Slaw Fighter: Wow. You've got your work cut out for you. Sounds like you've got the makings of a modern-day Pigmalion (sic), only the gender roles are reversed. That being the case, you might start with a basic glossary of preferred euphemisms. For instance:

• "I can't wait to caress your gorgeous body" = "Bring them big ol' milk-bags over here, pronto!"

• "I yearn for you with every ounce of my being" = "If you don't hop on this stallion soon, I'm lettin' him loose without ya."

• "I understand you're not feeling well, so get some rest and we'll make up for it this weekend" = "If you ain't gonna gnaw on Slim Jim, Stacy down at the Mapco damn sure will."

Other strategies: Next time he says, "Slaw Daddy wants some pie," tell him the only piece he's getting is from Cheesecake Factory. Trade in all his Toby Keith discs for some Conor Oberst. Slip your Breakfast at Tiffany's DVD in the Smokey and the Bandit cover. And most importantly, keep in mind that you hold all the cards. If Lysistrata could end the Peloponnesian War by not putting out, you should be able to bring a college sophomore up to an eighth-grade social level.

Dear Damian: I'm a junior at Vandy, and I'm conflicted about this upcoming presidential election. Deep down, I'm a McCain man just like my dad, if for no other reason than I want Uncle Sam to keep his grimy paws off my family's considerable wealth (and thus my Land Rover). But I'm guessing that Obama supporters get hotter chicks. Is that the case? If so, do I switch political allegiance to score more skirt? Do I pretend to back Barack, then vote for McCain? Or do I risk blue balls and go red all the way?

—Feelin' Purple

Dear Purple: As my Uncle Ted used to say, "Screw the Democrats! Vote Republican!" Of course, he didn't mean it literally, but it sounds like the perfect advice for you. Ask yourself this: Would you rather put your moves on some sorority lass named Buffy after she pukes up a pint-and-a-half of Jäger and passes out in your bathroom, or would you rather hook up with that lit major with the hot tattoos, funky haircut and bright-pink Chuck Taylors? Ann Coulter or Scarlett Johanssen? Do you want your lover to ask you, "Do you think I'm thin enough?"—or would you rather hear, "Can my roommate Jenny join us? And do you mind if I get the videocam?" I'm not here to take a stand on who's more fit to lead the country, but in my experiences with women, the lefter the better. And if if you think saying you're going to vote for Obama when you're really going to vote for McCain is the biggest lie you're going to tell this semester to get a girl in bed, I've got some WMD's I'd like to sell you.

Dear Damian: I'm about to start fall semester at MTSU and just realized I'm in a political science class with a girl whom I hooked up with last year, and I didn't exactly, um, rise to the occasion. It hasn't typically been a problem, but I'd had too much to drink and just couldn't make the grade. I'm afraid it's going to be awkward, and that maybe she told all her friends, some of whom will likely be in the class.

—Ego Deflated

Dear ED: You may find it hard (for once) to face your failed conquest in class, but it's impotent—oops!—important not let it get you down. (God knows it won't get you up, either.) If she and her friends start humming a slow, funky blues number in class, convince yourself it's Steely Dan's "Chain Lightning" and not the theme from the Cialis commercial. But if it gets to the point where they constantly make jokes about having a bone to pick with you, and make limp-dick gestures with their fingers while they giggle, pack up your books and transfer immediately. Ron Paul will be president before you get laid again in Murfreesboro./p>