Dear Prudie,

I'm 16 years old and have an awkward dilemma. I'm thinking about buying a vibrator because I am very curious, but the thing is, I want to talk to my mom about it first. We have a very close and open relationship, and she says I can talk to her about anything. I'm just not sure about this. I'm scared that it will make her feel awkward (even though she's a nurse, so she likes talking about gross stuff). I already tried talking to one of my best friends about it, but she seemed pretty repulsed by the idea. I'm still a virgin and not planning to change that for quite some time, so it's not like I'm going to be romping around with teenage boys. The vibrator would be for my own private use, and having my mom to talk to first would be especially helpful to me. Should I tell her?

—Just Curious

Dear Good Good Good...Good Vibrations…..

You want a vibrator because you’re curious? Is that what you kids call “horny” these days? In my day, “curious” as it related to sex usually meant a closet homosexual deluded into thinking he’s straight except for his “curiosity” about performing fellatio. Personally, doodahman is curious about how the planets revolve, but that doesn’t mean he wants to play with Uranus…Now, I suppose, anytime someone want to get their rocks off in a manner that is not quite vanilla, it’s not horniness or kinkiness, but “curiosity.” If that’s what Alice meant when she said, “Curioser and curioser”, I’ll have to reread my Carroll in a whole new light. No wonder that damn Cheshire Cat was always grinning.

There can’t be any real “curiosity’ about vibrators. Put a vibrator against your hoohaw, and you’ll have an orgasm. No real mystery about it. It’s hard to see the point of roping your poor mother into this project of yours. First off, she’s likely to figure it out on her own, unless she ends up calling the exterminator to get rid of the hornet’s nest she will think has been lodged in the drywall space between your rooms. You don’t need her approval, and let’s hope to God you’re not seeking instructions on how to use it. If so, you’ve written the wrong advice columnist and I suggest you send this letter to either Penthouse or the most excellent Dan Savage at the Village Voice. So, what’s the point?

This is something no parent needs to know. Vibrators fall into the same category as masturbation. Everyone does it; nobody talks about it. Especially with their parents.

Dear Prudence,

I'm 26 and engaged to a wonderful 33-year-old man. He's absolutely the person I want to spend the rest of my life and have a family with. We both want kids fairly soon, but there's one problem. For the past few years, my fiance has had some problems with a testicular infection, and the doctors say there's a chance that it has left him sterile. Having children is extremely important to me, but if it turned out that he couldn't have them, I'd work around it, i.e., adoption or sperm donation. However, not knowing is killing me. He says he doesn't want to get fertility testing until we're ready to start trying to get pregnant. Is it unreasonable to want to find out whether my future husband will be able to have children?

—In the Know

Dear No Goo, No Go:

Danger Will Robinson.

Testicular infection? Ouch. Does he cover his balls whenever he coughs?

Look, you two are in a delicate stage of your relationship. After a long period of mounting expectations, the involvement of outsiders including family, vendors, religious types and the entire marriage mafia, the do-or-die moment approaches and no matter what you think you feel right now, this is when a lot of relationships of people who want to “spend the rest of my life and have a family with” blow up like a virgin-starved jihadi at a security checkpoint.

Now, you say that this is not a determining factor whether you want to actually marry the poor ball-less goon. But this desire to test it out before the wedding says it is. In fact, the desire says it in a big, impossible to ignore way that is going to send your fiancé into a dizzying spiral of self doubt, doubt about you, and immersion into any number of neuroses. So, be honest with yourself. If you really were comfortable being impregnated with anonymous jizz through a turkey baster, there’s no need to bring it up. But if that’s something that you might not be able to deal with, you need to get to the bottom of it now.

Sure, it lays a veneer of condition on what you’ve advertised as unconditional love. Sure, it may cause you to see a big, empty, goo-less nutsack every time you looks deep into his eyes. Sure, you might find out something about each other that you didn’t expect and won’t know how to adapt to. But all of that is preferable before you tie the knot than after. And shitload cheaper, too boot. If in the end you find out he can’t have kids and that’s a deal killer, at least it won’t be the first time he takes it in the ‘nads.

Dear Prudence,

When I was 14, I severed ties with my dad. I was a messed-up teenager, living with my certifiably nutty mother and visiting my dad on weekends. When he remarried and had another baby with my stepmom, I was furious. I treated them badly, cursed at them, hollered at them, stole from them, and went so far as to set "booby traps" in the house so my stepmom and new baby brother could get hurt (luckily, they didn't). I treated my stepmom like dirt, even though she was never mean. After I stopped answering my dad's calls and threatened to report him to the cops as a stalker, he stopped trying to get in touch with me. I can see now that he and my stepmom were good people who wanted only the best for me. Now that I am 27, I am trying to get back in touch with my dad, because I'm getting married. However, he will not respond to mail, e-mail, or Facebook messages. I've asked my uncle and cousins to tell him that I want to see him. They told me that he was too hurt by my behavior and has no desire to get in touch. Am I wrong to try to re-enter his life? Should I just leave him alone?

—Stupid Teen, Now Regretful Adult

Dear Reformed Serpent’s Tooth:

Funny how being stabbed in the back for a dozen years by a child puts a bad taste in the mouth, ain’t it? If doodahman had a dime for every time the doodah daughter was a jerk to him, he might willing to send her to college (because then he’d have the funds). As it is, I’m barely willing to post bail. Yucks aside, that’s all water under the bridge. You are right to try and make amends and it is impressive that you’ve come at this so honestly. Good for you—nothing makes my day more than seeing somebody seeking redemption. Redemption is one of the beautiful things about people, almost making up for genocidal tendencies and polyester.

Perhaps the best tactic is to try and work through the step mom. She might be more open to your repentance and understanding about what you went through. She might also see what the benefits of rapprochement would be, especially if you can produce a grandchild that might make up for the lost loving that your father never got from you. But it’s like being a reformed drug addict or alcoholic—it takes time to make amends and for the people you’ve hurt to come around again and trust you. So just be patient—if you were able to have a change of heart, it’s likely he is, too. So don’t give up—you caused this mess and it’s up to you to put in the utmost effort to rectify it. It’s not quite on the same level as eating your Quaker Oats, but it’s still the right thing to do.

Dear Prudence,

I am a woman who started working at a company earlier this year. I share an office with a man who doesn't really want me there. Because I do my job well, it creates more work for him (which is actually great for business!). I ignore any smart comments he makes, stay professional, and get my job done. My work is beyond reproach. Here is the problem: We have to share a bathroom. He changes into his uniform and leaves his dirty socks there during the week, then takes them home on Friday. (Yuck, I know!) I think he leaves the bathroom this way to protest me being there. The issue is really about the toilet seat. He refuses to put it down. It is his final act of protest against me. I have asked him repeatedly to lower the seat and am completely disregarded. I have talked to my boss about this, and he said he would mention it to my co-worker, but he either forgot, or it didn't help. I told my co-worker that if I have to put up with his dirty socks, he can at least put the seat down. No reaction. There is another bathroom, but it's not close. I don't feel I should have to go out of my way so he can have his own personal bathroom. Any advice for how to handle this?

—The New Girl

Dear Queen Without A Throne:

Oh geeze. What the fuck is it with women and toilet seats? You want it down, you put it down. You want a light on, you flip the switch. You want hot water, you turn on the faucet. You pee, you wipe your own privates. Fahcrissakes, it’s your asses that caress those seats every day, not men’s—at least not when they are leaving it up. So why does he have to touch that grimy thing when he isn’t sitting on it? Oh, because you’re perfect. We have to pull the damn thing up after you all piss, crap, change tampons and drop placentas and the occasional unwanted baby into it. We have to put it down, too? Puhlease.

It would appear that the real problem here is that you are simply too perfect to be saddled with mortal co-workers. It surely must be tough being beyond reproach when those around you are nothing but reproach mongers. Perhaps if you were to get employment at someplace other than the Chic-fil-A, you might find a superior breed of co-worker to share your reproachlessness with. As it is, I think you’re just going to have to suck this one up. And doodahman would pay you ten dollars to watch you do it.