The team at DFO is committed to brightening the world with insights, observations, and dick jokes. This mailbag feature is just one more way in which we extend our mission beyond football to the rest of life’s broad and multi-chromatic palette. The NFL off-season is OVER and the regular season is under way for 30 or 31 teams, so the floodgates are open for fantasy football questions as well as fantasy and reality outside of football. If you have questions and/or need advice, email email@example.com. New inquiries will be supplemented by DFO and Celebrity Guest Columnist advice in response to inquiries to other advice columns. We’re going to aim to be funny but respectful to everyone no matter what. Unless they’re Packers or Patriots fans. BrettFavre’sColonoscopy is not a licensed therapist nor does he hold an advanced degree in psychology, social work, or any of the cognitive sciences. He is an enthusiastic young-ish man with an overpriced education and an unabiding love for dispensing good advice while being incapable of applying it to his own life.
Welp, the NFL 2019-2020 season has commenced. And it’s been a doozy. Some stuff that was completely predictable, like continued Patriots’ dominance over an absolute garbage division, gruesome injuries, and continued officiating bullshit. And then a bunch of shocking things, like the Browns not being horrible but still fucking me over in a suicide pool by bricking their season opener to the Titans. Or more importantly, that other Brown story, which is just completely fucking insane. No, not the one about him farting in that doctor’s face, the entire arc of helmet saga, calling Mike Mayock a cracker (not wrong), asking for and getting his release, getting signed by the Patriots, being credibly accused of sexual assault, and the collective shrug from the NFL establishment that is just fucking terrible at being decent human beings.
As for this column, not unlike the Miami Dolphins, I have been completely derelict in accomplishing remotely anything approaching competent over the last two months. So everything I started drafting since the last edition of the mailbag is…a little stale. And we’ve had no new letters to firstname.lastname@example.org other than a bunch of spam bullshit from food blogs wanting to draft on yeahright’s coattails, BUT BOY OH BOY DID THE DFO CROWD DELIVER IN THE OPEN THREAD LAST NIGHT. Frankly, though, I think we need a warm up first, so let’s go to a massive WTF letter from Dear Prudence that caught my attention before I completely fucked off on my writing responsibilities–
I live at home with my five siblings (I’m the oldest) and mom and dad. For about a year now my mom has been going through depression and mental health issues. One night at the dinner table, my mom said that I may be having an affair with my dad and that she cannot trust us being together alone in one room. It’s not true. Not only did my dad and I not see this coming, but neither did any of my other family members. We talked for hours explaining that this accusation made all of us very uncomfortable. I expressed how much I respect and love her and my dad way too much to ever do anything like that. I cried. My siblings cried. My dad cried. Nothing we said seemed to help. I decided to stay out of my parents’ way, especially my dad’s, to make her feel comfortable and to trust me.
Recently, I took a trip with my mom and my sisters to my country. It was great, and I had no issues with my mom. I even got married on that trip. My husband lives in that country and could not travel back with me, so I had to come back home alone with my mom and sisters. I thought things would be different after that trip and marriage. But as soon as we returned home, my mom started acting suspicious and said she still felt my dad and I were having an affair. I was devastated. I decided to stop speaking to my mom. My dad agreed with me and supports me on this decision. He has apologized for her behavior toward me and has expressed that he also struggles with this accusation. I cannot move away due to financial issues. I love my mother and want a relationship with her for myself and my future children, but I cannot take her accusing me of such behavior. I have not told anyone, even my husband, about this matter. I’m ashamed to bring it up. What can I do?
—Mom Thinks I’m Sleeping With Dad
Wow. Just fucking wow. I’ve ranted before about how I don’t understand why there has been such a rise of incest porn, but is it seeping into people’s psyches? Do they believe errybody’s fucking errybody, no matter what? I mean, obviously not speaking to your mom is only the first step. Everyone involved needs counseling, ESPECIALLY the mom. Going through depression and mental health issues ≠ thinking your husband is fucking your daughter, apparently based on nothing. Oh and announcing it to the rest of the family. I actually don’t even have any advice here, I just felt the need to share this with the commentariat because it made my head explode.
Sorry for the delay. Here’s what went down on that trip I took to Colorado to hang out with this girl for the first time. This might be a little long. But any advice you fine human beings can offer on how to proceed would be greatly appreciated. Right now my brains and my heart don’t seem to be on speaking terms.
I had driven 400 miles to hang out with her on Thursday and as exhausted as I was after the drive, Friday might’ve been one of the best full days of my life. It was like something scripted out of a fucking movie. We met for breakfast at the aptly-named Cracker Barrel and the conversation flowed like we’d known each other our entire lives, even though we’d only been really communicating for about three months and change. Afterwards I finally was able to get her live on a range for an in-person golf lesson. After teaching her via video clip for three years it was nice to finally see her swing in the flesh for the first time. Then we played eighteen at her home course where I witnessed her second birdie ever. Afterwards, we got cleaned up and went out for a fancy dinner and drinks. She looked like a vision. Holy smokes, what a sexy lady! Her little dress barely clinging to her. In my familiar bowling-shirt/slacks I felt underdressed, but also made her look even more stunning in comparison. It was like we’d known each other for years and after I dropped her off at her house, she made me get outta the car and we kissed for the first time. Like intense and passionate and unlike anything I’ve had in years. I didn’t want to let her go. I went back to my hotel feeling high as balls.
Saturday we met again for breakfast and it was also awesome. Although about halfway through I started feeling a touch of the bubble-guts. Bad omen #1. I think I was getting food poisoning because my old JC Golf Coach had convinced me to eat at a shitty Indian food buffet for lunch a couple days previously. But I gutted through it. We went back to her house where we were picked up by a couple of her friends, Duck and Lor, who pulled up in a giant F350 with a massive Patriots logo and the words “Wicked Pissah” in sticker on the back window. Bad omen #2. Duck got out and shook my hand, and had a little suspicious white powder residue under his nose. To their credit, they were pretty nice folks, though I did get nervous when he tossed a dimebag of weed out the window of the truck about twenty feet away from the main gate at the Air Force Academy where my gal had spent a not-insignificant amount of money in a charity auction to get us a round at their incredible golf course.
At that point I had to excuse myself a couple times before we teed off to go and shit curry out of my eyeballs. It was 78 degrees and I was in a cold sweat, but I didn’t want to ruin a good thing, so I played out the round and didn’t say anything. We actually all had a lovely time out there, we went upstairs in the clubhouse and had dinner and drinks. She had her first large glass of wine of the day and she bought me a giant beer. “I’m gonna get you so drunk tonight,” she told me.
It was here where I made a really big judgement mistake of the night. We’d kinda planned on staying in Springs and playing some bar trivia (one of my unusual talents). She looks at me, “the choice is yours, we can go play trivia and have a couple cocktails and get up and drive to Denver for the game tomorrow morning, or Duck and Lor have a spare bedroom we can stay in in Denver if you just want to go up there tonight.” I had really enjoyed the previous night’s chilled atmosphere which staying in Springs for trivia night would provide. The other choice maximized the potential for something physical happening though. Goddamn she’s way out of my league attractive. So, I decided to eat the cost of my hotel room for the night and accompany her up to her friend’s place in Denver. That’s where things started getting dark.
I rushed back to the hotel, packed my small duffel, and busted ass back up to her house to pick her up. She walked out looking absolutely smoking hot, and had also obviously had at least another glass or two of wine. We drove up to Denver listening to punk rock songs and talking about the day. Then she said, “so after we drop off our stuff and the car, we’re going to go to this bar about a block from their house. Evidently there’s a party going on. It’s one of Duck’s buddy’s birthday. Just want to warn you, there’s gonna be this guy there. I’ve been trying to ghost him, but he keeps showing up. He doesn’t mean anything to me, but I’m just letting you know in case things get weird.”
I had no clue how to respond to that. I kinda felt like I was being tested. “I think you’re more than capable of handling your business, and I’ll back you up no matter what.”
We get to this bar and this party area is chock full of about twenty five mid-20’s-early 30’s steakhead looking dudes, a couple ladies and some older guys. Evidently everyone seemed to know about me. “HEYYYY! IT’S GOLFBOY!” I’m forty years old. I literally knew no one except my gal, and Duck and Lor in that room. Anyway, here’s where things went off the rails. She started drinking, A LOT. Like glass after glass of Cabernet. And smoking like a chimney chaining one right after another. I don’t care if somebody smokes, but she’d made a big deal a few weeks earlier of being a year cigarette-free. She was beyond fucked up, and I started cutting way back just so I could have a little better awareness of my surroundings. There was a fuckton of testosterone, coke, and dudes flexing on each other on that patio and this girl was enjoying being the center of attention. She’d disappear for stretches and at one time I found her inside the bar slamming shots and dancing on a fucking table.
The bar started closing down at about 1:30, we’d been there FOUR fucking hours, and the decision was made to take the party to that house we were staying at. We walked back to the house, I had a pretty bad buzz going as well. “I’m gonna go lay down for a minute she said. Go mingle.” I’d had enough mingling, but I went out into the backyard. A bunch of people started showing up and coke was getting passed around. I did not partake. I did take the time to admire the five perfectly groomed cannabis plants he had growing in his garden though. About the time two brothers started challenging each other to a slapfight, I went back inside to retire for the night. I went to the bedroom and she was laying down with her best friend talking to her, basically reading her the riot act for losing control. So I found a quiet corner of the house and started answering work emails. May as well be productive. A half hour later, it was probably 3 in the morning, not wanting to wake her up, I tiptoed back into the room, took my vitamins, and put on a t-shirt. I was seriously thinking about sleeping on the wood floor. But I slipped into bed and started drifting off. She woke up.
“Why are you so far away? Don’t you want to get close to me?” She said.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“No, slide over now and take off your shirt” I slid over and took off my shirt.
Keep in mind, three years ago I weighed 500 pounds and had a foot in the grave and the other one in a banana peel. It’s taken a major surgery and some work to get down under 250, but I still look like a fucking war-crime naked and I’m still self-conscious badly about it. It’s also probably been a decade since I’ve had any sexytime at all. After about five minutes of cuddling her and trying desperately to fall asleep, “After all that golf, I need a back rub baaaad.” She said and pulled off the covers to reveal that she was completely naked. A back-rub turned into a butt-rub and the next thing I knew she was jamming her hands down my shorts. And one thing led to another. I’ve got a lot of feelings for this woman and there’s nothing more that I wanted than to take things to the next level, but this wasn’t good at all. We were both completely wasted, it was sloppy, and being completely out of practice, I’m pretty sure I was disappointing on every level. We drifted off to sleep as I heard the sound of a coked-up guy falling out of the tree in the backyard.
The next day we were hungover as fuck. We went to the Bears v. Donks game, I sported for club seats, with the full bar and everything and we had an all right time, but things seemed to be funky. We talked before the game over bloody marys and she kept apologizing for losing her mind the night before and telling me how sweet I was for not judging her. She’s had some major life events pile up on her this summer and I guess things kinda broke in her brain. I just said, “look at what you have had to deal with and you’re still standing. It’s okay to act out once in awhile. But look at those people we were around last night. I know they’re your friends, but they’re all 10-15 years younger than we are. I get the impression that this was a normal weekend for them. They’re living in the time to do that stuff. I know I couldn’t handle that all the time at my age. Maybe you can, but I don’t know if that’s a particularly healthy way to go.”
The drive back to Springs was quiet. She slept the whole way there, I pulled up to her house and she asked me if I’d like to get dinner. I didn’t want to leave her. She went in and got her 13-year old daughter (who I’m kinda starting to suspect might be the most emotionally mature person in their house, she already is planning on law school) and we got dinner. I was kinda hoping to have at least one more conversation with her, but I didn’t want to talk about emotional stuff around her kid. I paid for the dinner and dropped her back off at her house, gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and headed back to the hotel. Things just kind of ended.
I had to get up a 4:00 the next morning to play golf with a couple of my buddies an hour north of Denver on my way home. I didn’t know what to think, and my mind was elsewhere on the course. I hadn’t messaged her all morning to tell her that I was on the road and she sent me four texts while we were out on the course wondering if I was safe. I pretended that the course was in a cell-phone dead zone and responded to tell her that everything was fine and I was on the road.
EPILOGUE In the middle of nowhere Wyoming she calls me. The reception was the shits in my car, but she just wanted to again thank me for being so sweet to her. “I don’t deserve you.” She said more than once. I’m just a regular jagoff. I told her she deserved the world. And she also said that because of our talk at the game the day before, she realized that she’s been incredibly depressed and is now seeking out therapy. Just the thing I wanted to hear in the middle of a seven hour drive home. Truth be told, I’m glad she’s getting help. My phone cut out in a small canyon just before I could say goodbye, but I sent her a text saying., “Hopefully this makes it to you, but I just wanted to say, and I know how stupid and sappy this sounds, and even though you told me, repeatedly late Saturday night to just run the fuck away, I don’t want to. I don’t give a shit. I care about you a lot, like way more than almost everyone else in my dumb life. And I just want to see you happy, because if you’re happy, then I’m happy.
Sounds like it’s gonna take some work to get there, but I’m proud of you for taking the steps and I’m glad to support you any way that I can.”
So, my question for you folks, do I run away? I’ve got pretty deep feelings for this gal. Or do I keep trying to make a relationship happen here where things are unconventional, to say the least?
Put a bow on that mailbag, and don’t feel like you need a situation that BIG to write in to Mouth Flies Open. Boss getting you down? In-laws moving in without your permission? Looking for the right way to quit a fantasy football league? Want to hear about all the injuries I’m already dealing with in a keeper league? No one ever does, so just let me know if you need advice! Email email@example.com with your questions, post questions below, and spread the word!
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