Of course, it’s always been out for some (picture Meryl Streep and Judi Dench sitting around pondering, “To DDD or not to DDD'”) While this reported trend in looking natural seems part of the trend toward grass-fed beef, hemp lingerie, and “Hey, you...

It’s terrible, what happened to his roommate, but moving into somebody’s place and then announcing, “Oh, by the way, I’m traumatized by people having sex'” is like saying, “Did I mention that I’m deathly allergic to cats? Not to worry, I hear they don’t feel a thing when they get put down.

You might be as “liberated” as all get out, but your genes are ready to party like it’s 1.8 million years ago, when women evolved to be the harder-to-get sex and men co-evolved to expect to smooth-talk a woman into the bushes.

This guy takes the “Dear Occupant” approach to love: Instead of “It had to be you,” it had to be somebody, and you’re standing right there and have yet to call the cops on him. He claims to love you, but you really have to know somebody to love them.

Forget the old “anything worth having is worth waiting for.” You’re a woman in a hurry. Anything worth having is worth cornering like a trapped animal. Unfortunately, guythink doesn’t work on that timetable. Yeah, he might be sensitive, spiritual, and chatty with trees, but he’s still a guy.

Oh, what a terrible thing, promoting “American standards of beauty.” Footbinding? Clitoridectomy? Naw, plucking tiny hairs above a woman’s lip. Quick! Somebody start an international human rights organization! (Maybe something spelling out the acronym MORONIC.

Ignore your friends and family, who won’t be the ones sleeping with your girlfriend (well, presumably). It’s anything but shallow to make sure a woman has the looks you need to be hot for her.

Martha Stewart taps into hers, and like a onewoman swarm of rickracking, sponge-painting locusts, transforms everything in her path. Other women start by perking up flowerpots and end tables and move on to unsuitable men.

Well, definitely start wearing pants fitted with those spikes they use to keep pigeons off liquor store signs, or at least sew golf cleats to the front of your jeans. Or, if this sounds like a lot of bother, you could just consider yourself mildly lucky, and leave it at that.

I’ve been seeing this guy for over two years. Although we spend lots of time together, we don’t have a committed relationship. We’ve been off and on throughout this entire two-year “complexship,” as I call it. Normally, we’re fine until I start asking about us being more to each other.