Water, water everywhere and way too much to drink Halloween’s a comin’, bois! Let’s just get slithering right to it: Dear Howard: My boyfriend, a professional nutritionist, bitches at me constantly how I’m a physical train wreck and that I don’t have enough sex with him.
Usually, this is after he’s been pounding away at me for a solid hour! “Stop, Kent, STOP!” he mimics. “I have a headache! Kent, please?” But he never does.
He just keeps on plowing sarcastically along, like a deranged robot. Kent insists the reason I’m turned off by him is solely due to my poor dietary habits — that I’m a junk-food junkie, a secret smoker, and, worst of all, I’m severely dehydrated.