Dear Auntie Sue,
I recently discovered that my husband has been writing the agony column for the Rochdale Times under the pseudonym “Madame Veronique, Oracle of Feelings.” He’s been doling out emotional advice to strangers while leaving me to emotionally spiral into a bottle of Echo Falls every Thursday.
I feel betrayed. And also mildly aroused by how much better he is at empathy in print than in our kitchen. Should I confront him, divorce him, or take the editor to bed in an act of vengeful erotic journalism?
Thanks,
Carol
Dear Carol,
What a delightfully sordid turn of events. You thought you’d married a man who couldn’t find his own socks, turns out you’ve been sharing a bed with Madame bloody Veronique, the Midwest’s answer to Cosmo agony with a side of cod psychology and misplaced commas.
Let’s be honest, the betrayal here isn’t just emotional, it’s literary and from what we’ve all seen, he’s a very poor speller and cannot sentence a paragraph correctly.
He’s been writing tortured missives like “What’s next for Rochdale students getting their A-level results?” while you’ve been silently debating whether to drown him in the slow cooker.
And you say you feel “mildly aroused”? That’s normal. Everyone loves a man who can’t string a sentence together and casually throw in phrases like “emotional scaffolding” and “trauma-aware boundaries” while completely ignoring the washing up.
Now, should you leave him? Not yet. Should you sleep with the editor? Absolutely, but not out of lust, because you’ll be equally disappointed. Do it for access to the paper’s classified archives. You’ll want proof when the inevitable memoir drops and he describes your 14 years of marriage as “a period of spiritual silence occasionally interrupted by lasagne.”
Alternatively, strike back in kind: write your own column. Send in anonymous letters describing his nightly habits in forensic detail. Title them “Dear Auntie Sue: my husband cries in the bath and eats peanuts like a raccoon.” We’ll run every single one.
Revenge is a dish best served in a passive-aggressive Q&A.
Smoulderingly yours,
Auntie Sue
