I’m scared to tell her about my sportscar
Dear Wilhemina I’ve just bought a very, very expensive German sportscar and I haven’t told my wife. The money isn’t the issue, I’ve got enough. She wouldn’t approve, though she probably wouldn’t care too much and wouldn’t have stopped me. But our marriage isn’t scintillating right now (I don’t know if I want to stay in it, to be honest) and I just wanted to have a bit of fun. I’m sure you’re thinking I’m in a classic mid-life crisis. I now have this enormously expensive car, that doesn’t even have room for our children in it, sleeping in the garage of our block of flats. No one knows about it; I’m not really taking it anywhere but around the block. Should I tell her, come what may—or sell it before anyone’s the wiser?
Luke M
Dear Luke M
Grab a drink and make yourself comfortable while I stop laughing. Let me get this straight: your marriage isn’t very good and you think you might want out, but you don’t know how to tell your wife about the car you bought and are hiding under her nose in the garage? Ah, yes I can see how telling her about the car is the “real” problem. To state the painfully obvious: isn’t this car just a very expensive metaphor for your relationship? Talk to your wife about the car and use it for what it is: a way into a conversation you don’t know how to begin (your starter for ten is “marriage and automobiles”). And have the conversation. About your marriage, not the car.
Wilhemina
Should I have a nose job?
Dear Wilhemina
I’ve always been unhappy with my nose and I need to decide now whether I’m going to take the next step: plastic surgery. It’s got to the point where I can barely look at myself in the mirror. I’m 48 years old and I’d finally like to do something about it. Is this reasonable, or do you think it’s a morally reprehensible idea?
JO
Dear JO
What strangely powerful words you choose to refer to what has (rightly or wrongly) become a rather routine procedure. Why morally reprehensible? Because you’re messing with nature? Buying into the “body shame” that psychotherapist Susie Orbach refers to? Or conforming to standards of beauty you don’t feel you’ve chosen? I wonder about the roots of an idea that seems to be against your beliefs and which comes, forgive me for saying this, rather late in life. If you look at the statistics, most people tend to have their noses done much earlier. The minute they can afford it, in fact. So what’s making you take this option so seriously now? You don’t refer to the usual fears (what will it look like afterwards? Will it be painful? How do I handle it with friends and colleagues?) but rather only to what are, quite literally, metaphysical problems. I would ask yourself what else is going on in your life that you might think of as morally reprehensible. There’s nothing wrong with going ahead with this in the end, but before doing so make sure it’s your nose that you want to fix.
Wilhemina
I’m a dating website addict
Dear Wilhemina
A few months ago I joined a dating site. I’m in my early thirties and I want what everyone has: a family, a home, a husband, and it just wasn’t happening “naturally.” So, convinced by the fact that two friends met their husbands online, I gave it a go. You read a lot of terrible stories about tacky men and horrible letdowns, but frankly, it’s been wonderful. In the past six months I’ve met 34 perfectly nice people and I’m now involved, seriously, with three of them. My problem is that I can’t choose and I can’t stop going online and exploring other options. It’s thrilling to meet new people. I love looking forward to a meeting with someone who I can be entirely different with, and I keep wondering if there may be someone better out there. But it’s keeping me from doing the one thing I want to do: commit. How do I quit?
Carol W
Dear Carol W
About 33 per cent of people who use online dating sites find partners this way, and 20 per cent now claim to have met their spouse online. This is a success story, and no amount of “dark side” testimonials have quelled the rush to Match.com and its equivalents. Online dating offers both anonymity, but also a level of interest—in terms of number of “clicks”—that can be both confidence boosting and quite addictive. This is something everyone is now familiar with. It started with the red flashing light on an answerphone, moved to the bing of “you’ve got mail,” then to the ever-increasing beep of the incoming text-message and so on to friend requests and online dating hits.
But let’s not forget that you could have met these three men conventionally, and not be able to make up your mind. And you could still be waiting around to see if “anyone better comes along.” Dating websites allow us to continue to play the field with more ease, but the fundamental question remains a very old-fashioned one: do you want to take a chance to commit to a relationship, or would you rather remain in the titillating but ultimately unfulfilling field of fantasy and pursuit? It’s the fantasy you need to quit, not the website.
Wilhemina
Send your problems—in confidence—to wilhemina@prospect-magazine.co.uk
Dear Wilhemina I’ve just bought a very, very expensive German sportscar and I haven’t told my wife. The money isn’t the issue, I’ve got enough. She wouldn’t approve, though she probably wouldn’t care too much and wouldn’t have stopped me. But our marriage isn’t scintillating right now (I don’t know if I want to stay in it, to be honest) and I just wanted to have a bit of fun. I’m sure you’re thinking I’m in a classic mid-life crisis. I now have this enormously expensive car, that doesn’t even have room for our children in it, sleeping in the garage of our block of flats. No one knows about it; I’m not really taking it anywhere but around the block. Should I tell her, come what may—or sell it before anyone’s the wiser?
Luke M
Dear Luke M
Grab a drink and make yourself comfortable while I stop laughing. Let me get this straight: your marriage isn’t very good and you think you might want out, but you don’t know how to tell your wife about the car you bought and are hiding under her nose in the garage? Ah, yes I can see how telling her about the car is the “real” problem. To state the painfully obvious: isn’t this car just a very expensive metaphor for your relationship? Talk to your wife about the car and use it for what it is: a way into a conversation you don’t know how to begin (your starter for ten is “marriage and automobiles”). And have the conversation. About your marriage, not the car.
Wilhemina
Should I have a nose job?
Dear Wilhemina
I’ve always been unhappy with my nose and I need to decide now whether I’m going to take the next step: plastic surgery. It’s got to the point where I can barely look at myself in the mirror. I’m 48 years old and I’d finally like to do something about it. Is this reasonable, or do you think it’s a morally reprehensible idea?
JO
Dear JO
What strangely powerful words you choose to refer to what has (rightly or wrongly) become a rather routine procedure. Why morally reprehensible? Because you’re messing with nature? Buying into the “body shame” that psychotherapist Susie Orbach refers to? Or conforming to standards of beauty you don’t feel you’ve chosen? I wonder about the roots of an idea that seems to be against your beliefs and which comes, forgive me for saying this, rather late in life. If you look at the statistics, most people tend to have their noses done much earlier. The minute they can afford it, in fact. So what’s making you take this option so seriously now? You don’t refer to the usual fears (what will it look like afterwards? Will it be painful? How do I handle it with friends and colleagues?) but rather only to what are, quite literally, metaphysical problems. I would ask yourself what else is going on in your life that you might think of as morally reprehensible. There’s nothing wrong with going ahead with this in the end, but before doing so make sure it’s your nose that you want to fix.
Wilhemina
I’m a dating website addict
Dear Wilhemina
A few months ago I joined a dating site. I’m in my early thirties and I want what everyone has: a family, a home, a husband, and it just wasn’t happening “naturally.” So, convinced by the fact that two friends met their husbands online, I gave it a go. You read a lot of terrible stories about tacky men and horrible letdowns, but frankly, it’s been wonderful. In the past six months I’ve met 34 perfectly nice people and I’m now involved, seriously, with three of them. My problem is that I can’t choose and I can’t stop going online and exploring other options. It’s thrilling to meet new people. I love looking forward to a meeting with someone who I can be entirely different with, and I keep wondering if there may be someone better out there. But it’s keeping me from doing the one thing I want to do: commit. How do I quit?
Carol W
Dear Carol W
About 33 per cent of people who use online dating sites find partners this way, and 20 per cent now claim to have met their spouse online. This is a success story, and no amount of “dark side” testimonials have quelled the rush to Match.com and its equivalents. Online dating offers both anonymity, but also a level of interest—in terms of number of “clicks”—that can be both confidence boosting and quite addictive. This is something everyone is now familiar with. It started with the red flashing light on an answerphone, moved to the bing of “you’ve got mail,” then to the ever-increasing beep of the incoming text-message and so on to friend requests and online dating hits.
But let’s not forget that you could have met these three men conventionally, and not be able to make up your mind. And you could still be waiting around to see if “anyone better comes along.” Dating websites allow us to continue to play the field with more ease, but the fundamental question remains a very old-fashioned one: do you want to take a chance to commit to a relationship, or would you rather remain in the titillating but ultimately unfulfilling field of fantasy and pursuit? It’s the fantasy you need to quit, not the website.
Wilhemina
Send your problems—in confidence—to wilhemina@prospect-magazine.co.uk
