The Truth about (gulp) Mr. Steele 8/30/00

Dear Mrs. Steele:

How can you honestly stand to live with Mr. Steele?

Suzanne

Dear Suzanne ... If that's your real name ...for a Truth question of so few words, it certainly presents a number of options for exploration. For instance, Option #1: The tone of your question sounds a bit like a whiny woman scorned -- you know, like, "How could you live with Mr. Steele (when he would never live with me)?" -- or -- Option #2: There's the possibility that you stumbled on the Truth from a search engine, picked a few Truths at random in the Archive and got your panties in a bunch because Mr. Steele is such a "Dirty Bird" -- or -- Okay, I lied. There's really only those 2 options ... hey, two's a number. So, let's begin by examining each one separately, and see where they might lead us. We'll start with Option #2, because I'm still formulating all the ways I can spell "Gloat", which will figure prominently into the examination of Option #1.

So, "Suzanne", dearie, did your poor wittle sensibilities get a boo-boo? Hmmmmm ... thing is, Mr. Steele took a little lookie at the search strings that brought our latest readers to the Page and - gasp - lo and behold, some Slutty Suzie got to us by searching "oral sex and piercings". (I know, Gentle Readers, I know. Let's all take a moment to ponder the sickness of Slutty Suzie ... Amen) Suzanne, dear, shame on you. And, by the way, The Truth Disclaimer clearly states that the Truth is a Biohazard and Mr. Steele fully acknowledges being a Dirty Bird. So, unwind your panties from around that piercing, you naughty girl, you - and get your mind out of the gutter, for Cripes Sake.

Now, Option #1 - this is truly my odds-on-favorite of the two. And the reason is even more obvious than the Blatant Bimbo-ness of every woman in my Mr. Steele's Serial Dater's Past. If our "Suzanne" is a cast-off of Mr. Steele's, well, then, her writing that little question just gives me the floor to say "NananananaNah ... I guess you just weren't woman enough to beguile my man (that's 2 - 2 - 2 gloats in one) ... In fact, I'd say you're probably a good candidate for being the Nimrod Broad wh's responsible for Mr. Steele's old idiom "What I need is a woman who can't speak -- not one who can't speak English, because then she could learn to speak ... I need a woman who can't speak at all." Of course, all he really needed was a woman -- (um, Gloat #3) -- all he really needed was a woman who spoke and actually said something, which clearly, you were not, Sad Suzie (yep, that would be Goat #4) ... Wait , my gosh, you aren't the Same Suzie I read about last week in Guiness are you? The one who just qualified as an almost-human antique? Man, I gotta tell you, it's times like these I wish ... I could actually see the person on the other side of that monitor ...

But this doesn't really answer the question asked, now does it? No, you say? Well, I think to really fully answer that question, Mr. Steele and I will have to share the stage -- I mean, Page. So, hold on a sec and I'll fetch him -- he's doubtless deep in thought over his wedding vows -- there are so many wonderful romantic things no other woman ever deserved to hear from his lips, he's having a hard time keeping his vows under, say, 520 pages (uh, last Gloat this section...). Wait, I'll call him, "Um, Honey, at the risk of hoisting SuzieQ on her pitard ... could you join us for a bit out here?"

Now, Mr. Steele, I don't mean to get us off on a Truth here, but it seems Su-Su has this burning sensation -- er ... I mean, question -- that I thought might best be answered by the two of us, in tandem, as it were. Whaddya say, darlin? You wanna?

Um ... what's a 'pitard?'

Don't dumb-down for me darlin' ... you know very well what a pitard is. Now, let's pay attention to little Suzie for once in a while.

Oh ... Suzie ... all righty, then.

Personally, I'm leaning towards Option #1. Upon what do I base this assumption? Well, let's reexamine the question:

How can you honestly stand to live with Mr. Steele?

No typos. No misspellings. And what's more, the venom-to-word-count is very low. I think if an ex really wrote that sentiment to us, we'd see something more along the lines of the following:

How can you honestly stand to live with that rat-fuck Mr. Steele? Haven't you noticed his problem with intimacy? His moodiness? The fact that he's fucking physically incapable of remembering a fucking birthday, for Christ's sake? How about that cute little thing he does where he says erashunally ... irationalie ... crazy mean things for no real reason whatsoever? Can't a woman screw a guy on the side once in a while without getting a whole lot of crap about it? So marry him if you want to, but don't expect him to let you have any fun ever.

So, that having been said, I have to think that this is some uptight loser who showed up at the page quite by accident and was greviously offended at my words. Such a person is deserving more of our pity than anything else.

Well, geez, honey, I just simply don't agree ... of course the venom to word count would be minor -- I mean, all of the ex's know by now I'm a witch -- that alone should frighten the Brainiacs into submission ... So, let me address the question directly: How can I stand to live with Mr. Steele? Quite simply, I've learned, that try as I might have while working through the Poor Party, I can't live without him. And it's as much because he's a Dirty Bird as it's because he came through all of those disgusting miserable pigs (of which I am sure this Suzanne is) realtively unscathed -- and just for the record, he remembers the (seemingly) most minor anniversaries, he never says anything mean to me at all, he is never moody ... and as for the intimacy issue -- well, suffice it to say that he is the most incredible lover I have ever had, ever, bar none ... and any stupid bitch that ever screwed a guy on the side while she was fortunate enough to have him in her life, well, that just shows how truly ignorant she was, doesn't it? And fun? Darlin', Mr. Steele personifies the word. And that's all I have to say about that. Oh, well, except for this: Option #1 or Option #2 -- in either case, Suzanne is equally deserving of our pity. .... Um, Sweetheart? Can you meet me in the shower? And where'd you put the key the handcuffs?

On that note, I think this Truth has reached its conclusion. I love a happy ending.

Oofah!