DEAR LOVE ATTORNEY:
I have married a woman—Let us call her Ms. Haze, she was my landlord of sorts, but I do not love her. No! I am only using her, in order that I may be closer to the nymphet of her daughter; let us call her Lolita. Lolita is only the subtle, pure age of 11 or 12. I cannot help myself, you see, but I am not sick! I simply need your advice: Should I drop this charade of feigning love with a sad, twilighted woman in order to reach (what some may call) immoral, perverse desires…or should I continue with my plan so I may get this most seraph-like of nymphets: that fire of my loins, Lolita?
Perhaps against my better judgement, my future course of actions rest on what you reply.
You write fancy. I find this offensively un-American. So consider yourself lucky that I am even answering your question.
I know what you feel— the guilt, the shame —it’s not fun. I use to live with a woman that I was not particular to. However, I lived with her for years if only because she fed me, cleaned up after me, and gave me a home (this woman happened to be my mother). Looking back on it, I realize that was a pretty good deal.
Consider this: if you divorce this woman, you’ll be out on the street, nobody to cook your food or flatten your suits. And what’s more, you’ll have a bratty, demanding ‘nymphet’ as you call her, asking for her allowance. I say dump them both and write a fancy book about it.
The Love Attorney