The Luv Doc: Yukking It Up

Dear Luv Doc,

At a show last week me and my friend started talking to a couple of random guys next to us. They were maybe Australian (it was loud) and they were making us laugh talking about all of the strange people they had run into earlier in the day. At some point my friend's boyfriend (who was standing on the other side of my boyfriend) walked up to my friend and grabbed her arm and said, "We're leaving," and basically dragged her out of the club. The Australian guys gave me a look like, "What's his problem?" I grabbed my boyfriend's hand and followed them outside to see what was up. When we got outside, they were having a screaming match on the sidewalk. He was accusing her of flirting with the Australian guys, and screaming, "You know what you were doing!" We eventually calmed them down and my friend rode home with us, but today when I checked in with her, she said they were doing fine and he "just got a little jealous." I said I was worried about her because he seemed really scary and out of control, but she assured me everything is fine. I'm worried about her. I think she should break up with this guy. He clearly has issues. Should I keep pressing her or do like my boyfriend says and leave her to figure it out for herself?

– Not Laughing Now

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I think it's universally agreed upon that Australians are hilarious even when they're not trying to be. That's just facts. That said, I was yukking it up with an Australian just the other day and I said, "What part of England are you from?" He turned very serious and growled, "I'm from fakking Australia mate! What part of Mexico are you from?!?!?" I replied, "Tchoupitoulas," which was the most Mexican-sounding place I could think of on the spur of the moment. He laughed and said, "You don't look Mexican. What part of Mexico is that?" To which I responded, "It's near Tipitina's." He said, "Oh, nehvah errd of it."

Needless to say, I felt pretty chuffed about dodging his salty inquisition – especially after shitting the bed initially by claiming a street in New Orleans as a fictional Mexican state. I mean, Jesus fucking Christ? Who even am I that I couldn't cough up Tabasco, or Jalisco, or Durango, or even my favorite: Chihuahua? I blame COVID. The world just celebrated(?) three years of COVID, and vaccinations notwithstanding, I am 3-for-3, the result of which is that my brain has shrunk by about 93% and the remaining 7% is foggier than the steam room at Gold's Gym. The good news, however, is that I'm qualified to run for governor of Texas. The bad news is I write an advice column. Don't worry though. I have a gubernatorial amount of overconfidence that will surely make up for a disastrous lack of good judgment. I also have a bit of an attention-deficit disorder, which makes me think I maybe should have watched the last 60 minutes of Triangle of Sadness. Who doesn't love a happy ending?

Speaking of, if I were a gambling man, I wouldn't put a lot of money on your friend's relationship going the distance – and keep in mind I am working on just slightly more than Texas gubernatorial intellect (aka TGI). Were I to possess higher intelligence … say, that of a full-grown donkey, I might strongly urge you to urge her to drop that loser like a busted Hot Pocket. Jealousy is really only good for one thing: reality TV ratings. Other than that, it's just a roiling clusterfuck of insecurity, anxiety, and terrible decisions. I'm not saying it can't be fixed, but I am saying it can't be fixed by your friend … and definitely not by you. Sure, she could try and nudge this fellow in the right direction: counseling, meditation, exercise, the priesthood, but in the end she's not the one who has to do the work. She is, however, the one who will most likely bear the consequences if he doesn't. I think it's best to give this fellow some space to work on himself.