And I don’t just mean they finish building the loft first. I mean that according to a Harvard study published in the new issue of the journal Nature, among 100 college students asked to play about 8000 rounds of game-theory-gasmic “prisoners’ dilemma,” using dimes, those who less often meted out “punishment” came out ahead. Those who “punished” the most wound up with the least money; to the the “co-operators” went the spoils.

This is impressive to me, given that having to play 8000 rounds of prisoner’s dilemma with only dimes at stake would make me want to punish someone. Of course, it was Yahoo, and not Harvard, who concluded from this data — despite the fact that study subjects were male and female — that “Nice Guys Finish First,” but hey. We like nice; thought you might like to know!

One of BG’s favorite metaphors for partnership, offered by “The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter” in this letter, is: having someone in your life who can “share the driving.” One shortcoming: the metaphor doesn’t really work for women in Saudi Arabia who, since the establishment of the state in 1932, have not been permitted to get behind the wheel.That, finally — noreallythistimewemeanit — may be changing. The Saudi legislature has formally recommended lifting the ban on female drivers. But, as my alter ego at Broadsheet reports:”There’s just one caveat. No, wait. There’s like 17. According to a source in the legislature, the Shura Council’s recommendation also includes the following stipulations:

The woman driver must be under 30.

The woman’s driving is conditional upon the permission of a relative [father, husband, brother or son]. [Son! “Can I have the car keys, son? C’mon, pleeeeeeeeease?!”]

The woman driver must be modestly dressed.

The woman driver will be permitted to drive alone in the cities, but outside the cities she must be accompanied by a relative.

The woman driver will be permitted to drive Saturday through Wednesday between 7 a.m. and 8 p.m.

The woman driver must be able to prove that P=NP and have the power of telekinesis.”

Well, it’s a start. Perhaps someday soon (during a lunar eclipse?) they’ll be able to carpool over for a girls’ weekend at the new women-run, women-only Luthan Hotel & Spa, prompting vexing lesbian rumors! More on that at Jezebel.

A real go-getter from January 9, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,
I really like this guy — should I ask him out? Or should I wait until he does?
–Confused

Dear Confused,
There’s something to be said for waiting. Not because I think we should go back to the time when girls didn’t ask guys out, there were no women in Congress, etc. But because it’s fun to get asked out! It’s flattering! It’s thrilling! (Unless your suitor is that weird boy who wears shorts year-round, even in winter. You know the one.) And, more often than not, it’s useful — when he makes the first move, your preliminary guesswork is over: you know he’s interested, or at least “curious” (my term for one notch below “interested”).

But the same goes both ways. If you really want to be all you -go-girl about it, well then, you go, girl. Ask him out. Once. If he’s busy (or “busy”), you’ve at least made your point. Ball’s in his court now. You don’t have time to chase or flatter. You’ve got to work on that bid for Congress.
Love,
Breakup Girl

Now that Eliot Spitzer has resigned, we can put this sex business behind us and get back to BUSINESSbusiness.

Oh, wait.

First we find out that a former aide to former New Jersey governor James McGreevey has come forward, classily, to allege that he was the third wheel, as it were, in a series of three-way “sex romps” with Mr. McGreevy and his ex-wife-to-be, Diana Matos McGreevey. (Or, more to the point, that she was the third wheel.) My first reaction to this revelation (which the missus has denied, by the way) was a resounding “TMI!”

Then we hear about the Patersons. We hear a LOT about the Patersons. Boils down to this: things got rocky. He had affairs. So did she. They dealt.

Then I realized: this is more than a matter of TMI. The universe, my friends, is trying to tell us something. That we should focus as much as possible on the prurient details of politicians’ private utterly human failings — failings that are not at odds with their ability to govern or gain public trust — instead of on ending poverty and war? No, the other thing: remember how easy it was to judge Silda Spitzer? With these new revelations (regardless of their veracity) we are reminded: you never, ever know.

Now can we please get back to work ?

Here, your weekly installment of Ask Lynn, BG’s alter ego’s column at MSN.com (powered by Match.com). Today, we meet Frankly Frustrated, who comes by his nickname honestly. What’s the problem? No love from his lover. “My girlfriend and I have a great relationship except for one thing: sex. There is no passion or excitement in our relationship,” he writes. And: “I try to initiate intimacy, but she just buries her head in my chest and hugs me.” And: “Kissing is huge for me, but she doesn’t like to kiss, because she says she can’t breathe out of her nose.”

Yyyyyeah. Lynn felt the same way when she read that line and snarfed her seltzer. How can Frankly get some heavy breathing back into his life? Find out here — and then come back to comment!

Find out what she told Frankly here — and then come back to comment!

Computer dating? Breakup Girl finally gets with the program…

 

(more…)

“I’m crazy about her!” “My ex is a psycho hose beast!” It is customary, and often fitting, to dip into the lexicon of mania to describe love and its effects, salutary or otherwise. But what happens when real mental illness — the kind that shows up in the DSM — shows up in our relationships?

Breakup Girl has dealt with that issue here and elsewhere. And now, an essay from Nerve.com by Justin Clark, which just surfaced via Alternet, offers a compelling personal read about what it’s like to love someone bipolar. It is possible, Clark maintains, even fascinating and rewarding. “When I looked at Sara, I felt inspiration, not pity,” he says of the date on which she outed herself as bipolar. “And even though I’m not the type to plunge quickly into relationships, I was convinced I was in love. I invited her back to my place. Aside from a quick trip to clean out her studio apartment a few weeks later, she never went home. ‘Of the two of us,’ I told her as we lay happily in bed, ‘I must be the crazier one.'” Read the rest here. It’s harrowing and lovely. (And after that, after all these dark posts about DSMs and STIs and Client 9s — crazy, right? — we promise to lighten things up for you ASAP.)

Looking for signs on January 9, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,
I think my boyfriend’s going to dump me. Are there any signs that I can look for to be sure?
— Confused Betty

Dear Betty,
Is this a familiar feeling? Look back over the last couple of Baldwins in your life – did you think they were going to dump you too? (Whether they did or not is beside the point.) If so, the the only important “sign” here is the one in your head that reads, “INSECURITY ZONE! I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO HAVE THIS BOYFRIEND.” And that’s one sign you should spray-paint over pretty fast.

But maybe you think he’s going to dump you because, oh, I don’t know, he doesn’t call, act happy to be with you, or treat you like the Princess Betty that you are. If so, then, with all due respect, what are you doing asking me for more signs? You’re the one who needs to put up that big billboard that says “Buh-bye.”
Love,
Breakup Girl

A note on notes from January 9, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,
I’ve learned all there is to know about the breakup now, but haven’t experienced the going-out part yet. What’s the best way to let a guy know that you’re interested — note, phone, in person, a friend…?
— Jennie

Dear Jennie,
Whatever you do, don’t have “a friend” let him know. That will turn your would-be romance into something out of “My So-Called Life” faster than you can say “Jordan Catalano.” And a note is way too Shakespeare — plus, it could fall into the wrong hands, or never reach your intended at all (speaking of Claire Danes). Keep it simple — old-fashioned, even. Ask him out for a malted; invite him to the dance; bring him along with your friends to the movies. He’ll at least start to get the hint — but if he doesn’t take it, move on.
Love,
Breakup Girl

Via BG’s alter ego at Broadsheet:

Hey, kids, how’s that abstinence-only sex ed going for you? The answer, if you ask the grown-ups, often has to do with how many teens simply don’t abstain and how many get pregnant (PDF) as a result. But the latest data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention remind us that there are other consequences to sexual cluelessness, and right now, they’re pretty darn dire. That is, the first study of its kind on this demographic has revealed that one in four American girls has a sexually transmitted infection. At least one STI, actually. Mostly HPV (which can cause cervical cancer), then chlamydia (linked to infertility), plus herpes simplex and trichomoniasis. Nearly half the black teens surveyed had an STI, compared with 20 percent among both whites and Mexican-American teens.

Man. Be careful, you guys! Don’t think you can’t get something because it’s your first time, or because you used a condom (HPV can be wilier than that), or because you just, like, think you can’t. I’m certainly not trying to perpetuate the ridiculous — but still deeply hurtful — stigma associated with STIs. But these things can harsh your mellow, cramp your dating style, and, in some cases, compromise your health down the road. Get checked (some STIs are asymptomatic), take precautions (less than 100 percent effective in certain cases is way better than nothing, which is ZERO percent effective), and while you’re at it, lobby for your state to join the 17 others that have refused funding for abstinence-only education (which, you see, has also been less than 100 percent effective).