Thursday, 14 February 2019

Dear Ivy...


Dear Ivy,

My life has been one long trauma. First, my parents were brutally murdered before my eyes. Then, I found out that I was, in fact, from a faraway planet. A faraway planet that has been destroyed five different ways by five apparently unconnected organisations. Soon after the discovery, puberty brought with it a slew of fantastical powers that left me feeling like an outcast. I thought if I used them to help people, they'd start to like me. Instead, I've been kicked off five different teams, blamed for the end of the world (twice), and accused of causing a number of scheming supervillains to spring up. I thought I'd hit rock bottom when my fifth sidekick died (I really liked that one), but, barely a week later, the love of my life went missing only to turn up in my fridge.

Then it happened.

I met her. 

She's intelligent, and beautiful, and seemingly has a death wish because every other week her life is in peril. She's also an award-winning journalist for a well-respected broadsheet. I know that if I want this relationship to stand a chance, I have to tell her who I really am - you can't build a stable relationship by taking a woman for a drink every time you save her life, after all - but it's difficult. All my life I've been rejected. I don't want to risk losing her...

Yours sincerely,

Don't Look at My Underpants 

(Dear Don't Look at My Underpants,

I have one question for you, do you want to be front page news?

Seriously. I don't know what it is with superheroes and journalists, but it's like you're all looking to be exposed. You don't say how long you've been with this woman, but I get the impression that it isn't long. Ask yourself this, how invested do you think a well-adjusted, professional woman is in a relationship - I don't even know if I should call it a relationship.  Have you had that conversation with her yet? - with a man who deals with his issues by dressing up in spandex and punching things? Publishing your identity could do wonders for her career. Do you honestly believe that she isn't going to give you a hug and leave as quickly as possible to call her editor?

Yours sincerely,

Ivy

P.S. If you don't want people to look at your underpants, maybe you should redesign your costume. Just an idea.)

Dear Ivy,

This is going to sound terribly convoluted, but I don't think my boyfriend is who he says he is. 

It all started last week, when my beloved Aunt Agatha was murdered. They found her body at the bottom of the stairs - frightful shock, it was - and the police said that she'd been pushed. Naturally, it happened during a family party so everyone was present. Since then, he's been acting...strange. Intercepting letters before the servants collect the post. Sneaking off at all hours of the day and night. Becoming defensive when asked where he's been. He's hiding something. What could it be but his own responsibility for the murder?

I don't want to accuse him - the idea that he would even consider hurting her is poison to me - but I can't trust him. Not when he's acting like a stranger. 

Yours sincerely,

Mystery Maiden

(Dear Mystery Maiden,

There's no easy way to say this, so I'll start with the good news: your boyfriend is (probably) not a murderer.

Now for the bad news. There's a very good chance that he's cheating on you.

I would wait to confront him about his suspicious behaviour until after the murderer is discovered. Just in case.  

Yours sincerely,

Ivy

P.S. Make sure you clue the detective in. With any luck, he'll clear the whole thing up for you and you can dodge any awkward conversations.)

Happy Valentine's Day! 

Want more questionable advice? Check out Dear Ivy... (2018).