Michael ArceneauxIn the tradition of Steve Harvey, Tyrese Gibson, Iyanla Vanzant, and that overbearing older lady on your block who inserted herself into everyone’s business, CLUTCH has allowed me the opportunity to offer life advice. Well, advice on the only aspect of life that matters according to the Internet and the New York Times bestsellers list: relationships. My qualifications: I’m a single gay man whose own love life mirrors a sad Frank Ocean song. However, I’m literate and bold enough to pretend I know of what I’m talking about. So as you can see, I’m clearly as qualified as my contemporaries.

If you want to me to help you help yourself, email me at [email protected] (I’m saving my Gmail for paying clients) with the subject “This Time Won’t You Save Me (This Time Won’t You Save Me)” or tweet me @youngsinick.

Now, let’s get started with my first round of victims, shall we?

Dear Mikey Mike:

I’ve been seeing this guy for a while now and he suddenly decided to stop having sex with me. At first I was like “Cute for you and Jesus” but now it’s becoming to be a serious issue. Not every girl wants to neither cuddle nor waste money on a Brazilian. Am I wrong for feeling this way?

Girl on Fire


Dear Hot For The Crotch:

Don’t you own a dildo? Have you never met your right hand? Why are you trying to ruin that man and his new relationship with the Lord? Heathen! I’d tell you that you were going to hell, but as a gay, technically I’m going, too? Want to be bunk buddies?

In any event, you know what they call a woman who carries condoms around her? Responsible? No, a hooker! So you know what I want you to do?

Stop. And. Do. The Hooka, Hooka.

I’m not sure if the song is related, but I just wanted to make you happy post-shaming. Good luck with your freakless Jesus-freak.


Dear Mikey:

How soon is too soon to sleep with someone?

Dear Horny But Conflicted:

I’m so torn about this. On one end, my spirit animal, Pimp C, once said “You gotta take it off, take it off, unh…and let a first class n***a break you off, chick.” But like maybe he meant after the 60-day rule or marriage? Tell you what. Go to your bedroom and turn on TLC’s “Red Light Special.” Now as you sit there, if you can’t shift the thought of sex with your boo thang before Chilli starts screaming and messing up the groove, go ahead and do what you do – after you pray over your birth control and the condoms. Then y’all both need to turn on some Mary Mary and ask for forgiveness. And not the club “Blame It On The Jesus” Mary Mary either – you turn on a ballad for your bad behavior.


Dear Mikey:

My man is still mad at me because I spent more than $500 on Beyoncé  concert tickets – taking away from our vacation fund. I told him it’s a once in a lifetime experience, but he said I could’ve easily just bought the DVD after we got back from Punta Cana. He just won’t let it go – and if it wasn’t this issue, it’d be something else. What should I do?

He Mad


Dear He Mad:

According to the Book of Tyrese 1: 1-3 you’re an independent woman that’s going to die from the frostbite created by your frozen vagina. But, I’m also the guy who had engraved on his new iPod classic “Dip it. Pop it. Twirk it. Stop it.” so I’m torn.

On one end, Chico DeBarge & Joe stress that you listen to your man. Then again, anyone – gay or straight, perfect stroke or so-so pump – who doesn’t like Beyoncé is fundamentally flawed. Seriously, if a person doesn’t like “Get Me Bodied” don’t give them your body.

Wait, I figured it out. If he’s too cheap for to pay for Beyoncé, he must not be a baller. You should only listen to a man who can pay off your Sallie Mae. Dump him.

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