Press "Enter" to skip to content

Dear Scabby: Am I ready to start dating again?

Dear Scabby: I just got out of a five-month relationship, but find myself eager to start dating again. Out of respect, I think I should wait, but I am unsure of the time frame. When can I get back at it? -WHERE EAGERS DARE

Dear Where Eagers Dare: As evidenced by my many exes that decided to get back into the dating game while still in a relationship with me, there is no hard and fast rule or timetable of appropriateness to go by. Dating has more or less become a series of apps that tell you how many miles away you are from contracting gonorrhea. Online profiles have reduced the complexities of a person to bulleted lists containing little more information than a very generous estimate of their height and pictures of toothpaste-caked mirror selfies and sunburned 22-year-olds drunk driving boats. Your optimism towards reentering the dating community is refreshing, if not downright mystifying.

In your last relationship you experienced the seven-month itch, which is similar but different from the seven-year itch, the main difference being that after seven years you still love each other but you no longer like each other, whereas after seven months, you still like each other but you’ll never love each other because you’re both selfish impatient millennials with dwindling attention spans. Get back out there asap and enjoy that transition between dating and forming a serious relationship where you go from hoping he likes your outfit to becoming roommates who hate-fuck each other and argue over who last refilled the toilet paper.

Dear Scabby: I noticed in your most recent ask scabby that you mentioned Newburg, NY. I go to college at Mount Saint Mary College in the city and I was wondering if you were from the area or just used Newburg due to its admittedly unattractive inhabitants? Also, I have a strange rash on my junk that won’t go away, help? -A TEMPORARY NEWBURG RESIDENT AND VICTIM OF GENITAL IRRITATION

Dear Temporary Newburg Resident and Victim of Genital Irritation:
I like your alternative spelling of “Newburg.” Who needs silent letters, anyway? After all, the English language was intentionally devised to confuse foreigners, nationalize America, and confuse people from Poughkeepsie. While I’m not actually from Newburgh, I do know a couple of underweight babies from over in Kingston. Concerning your rash, you’ll probably be better off making your own salve since most of the doctors up there only hold associates degrees. Considering “occultism,” “alchemy,” “witchcraft,” and other words once used as a motive to burn women at the stake are now added to people’s resumes under “Additional Work,” it shouldn’t be hard to find some calendula at the local Price Chopper.

To prevent further skin irritation, you’re going to need to ask yourself some serious questions about your sex life starting with: “Am I having safe and protected sex?” By this I mean, are you sleeping with someone who makes you feel safe and protected? If not, you might want to consider alternative methods like pulling out, the honor system, or praying and bartering to the god of your choice. Condoms are also a great way to prevent the spread of STDs and unwanted pregnancies but are ultimately rendered useless by the staggering number of men that keep telling me they are allergic to latex.

Dear Scabby: My roommates hate me but I can’t move out for another two months until our lease is up. We used to be friends and even owned a cat together but now they won’t even say a word to me. What should I do! -GLOOMY ROOMY

Dear Gloomy Roomy: Just before getting my own place in my mom’s basement, I dealt with a set of nightmarish roommates who ran our converted railroad apartment with a kind of regimentation that bordered on militancy. I was constantly being reminded of things like, “the couch is not an ashtray,” “the toilet is not a garbage can,” “those aren’t’ your leftovers,” and so on. I even had one roommate pull me aside to passive-aggressively tell me I couldn’t masturbate with the door open anymore because it made her “uncomfortable,” to which I responded by masturbating with the door shut but at a volume twice as loud. Cohabitation is all about compromise.

Life is a solitary experience in which we are born alone, only to die alone after having lived trapped within a vacuum of our own hellish creation, which means it’s completely natural for you to feel uneasy about having to share a bathroom with three girls presumably named after calendar months and a strange cat. The ultimate goal is to live by yourself, but in the meantime, you must suffer in silence. If talking through your problems was a valid means of solving them, my intervention wouldn’t have ended in multiple arrests and I’d still be married. Instead, mask your true feelings and insecurities by adapting an impenetrable god-complex.

Scabby is the self-proclaimed mother of the Richmond, VA hardcore scene (and also a number of illegitimate children who have been trying to get in touch with her via ancestry.com.) She came this close to getting her associates degree in psychology from an online program that was later shut down for reasons we cannot disclose due to an ongoing investigation. Originally named Gabby F., she started going by Scabby after an untreated bed bugs “situation” in her first squat made national news, and is assumed to be anywhere between 50 and 100 years old. She looks forward to answering your most pressing questions and encourages people to push each other mentally, emotionally, and literally. You can contact Scabby at [email protected].</em

Want to support Hard Times? Buy a shirt. We’ll use the money to write more articles.