Since You Asked

One of my delights in life is reading advice columns. Like proper English toffee and Veronica Mars, it’s chewy and should be savored. Yes, a television show can be chewy. Cary Tennis, whose column, Since You Asked, is on Salon, is a favorite. One of the things I like about Mr. Tennis’ column is that he has absolutely no professional qualifications. Oh, and he is a brilliant writer. He writes like I would like to – elegant, but with an occasional dose of profanity. He is gently encouraging and never shys away from telling people that there is no hope. Reading his columns, it's easy to see why he’s the kind of person that would frequently be called upon to give advice.

The letters he receives are consistent enough in tone and style that they must get a substantial amount of rework. The subjects, however, vary widely. Many ask for advice on family, sometimes the problems are more on etiquette than on life advice. Some probe the deepest beliefs and choices about our lives – and it is in response to these letters that Tennis is at his best. In one column, he responds to a 29-year-old woman who has been abruptly dumped by her boyfriend of 3.5 years. She is devastated, and her query is as much one of “why me?” as it is “what should I do?” Although what we’re dealing with here is a garden variety heartbreak, Tennis’ response recognizes how much grief his correspondent feels, and without being patronizing describes the futility of looking for reasons from deity or deities that may be loving and protective, or cruel and fickle:

We live on the fragile edge of annihilation, imperfectly sheltered from the void, open to the sky and to the asshole motherfucker gods who fuck with us night and day for their own amusement. We pray to a kind and loving insurance god who sometimes provides coverage but who just as often excludes on technicalities the calamities that befall us, looking the other way when he should be watching out for us. And this too amuses the asshole motherfucker gods, who may be many things but are not stupid or naive.

But there's more too it than that. Screw the gods, he says, you already have the strength inside to get through this. All that we have to cling to is that we are stronger for the pain. Toughen it out, there’s no shortcut.

That's no consolation, really, is it. It's just the truth. You're wiser now though black and blue, sobbing in the firelight, waiting for dawn.

You can find an archive of his columns here.