Love Advice from the Civil War General

Dear Civil War General,

I'm having a hard time believing my boyfriend when he says he's out on "business meetings" until 1 and 2am. He often comes back in a cab because he's too drunk to drive home, but sometimes one of his buddies drives him back. On the ride to pick up his car the next morning, he gets angry if I start asking anything more than, "So how was your meeting last night?" He only has sex with me when I ask him for it, and he engages in the activity with all the excitement of a man who's about to pass his first kidney stone.

Should I stop suspecting him of any foul play, or should I go behind his back and try to find out what's really going on? I hate to do it but simply asking questions isn't working.

Possible Victim of Infidelity in Seattle

Dear Insecure Nag in Seattle,

Listen to this woman, and listen to it good: Love is like a bayonette. It can pierce you right through the heart and leave you bleeding and begging for more. You can either kill yourself with your so-called love for him, or you can kill him first. Being a fan of self-preservation myself, here's a few tips that will leave you holding the bayonette as you watch him bleed slowly and painfully, writhing on the floor, another victim of insecure love.

First of all, stop asking him about his meetings. Don't mention a thing. Be the sweet and quiet woman that all men dream of having - the one that doesn't question every little thing they do that leaves them drunk and smelling like perfume. I remember in the war, we men used to get drunk when being treated for a gaping flesh wound or when we had a broken bone set - so you never know what his reasoning could be. Maybe he's masking the pain of something more serious - the pain of a self-inflicted bayonette stabbing, for instance, but who am I to speculate?

Secondly, get pregnant. That's a great way to rekindle the love you once had. I know when me and Millie, or Susie ... or was it Matilda? ... found out she was having my first son, we were ecstatic and couldn't be happier until about a year after Victor was born. Then we hated eachother even more. No matter; I had a duty to my country to uphold, so I was gone and could bed all the women and bo - uh, bayonettes ... that I wanted during the war.

Thirdly, start wearing something really sexy when you know he's about to come home. Hell, just wear something sexy all the time. You got one of those nurse's outfits? I remember getting treated by the nurses during the war ... that was something else. Nothing could be better than that soft touch of someone whose sole purpose is to heal you ... of course, they were all men back then, but we were always drunk when that stuff was happening ... to mask the pain, of course. To mask the pain.

If all that doesn't work, let me know and I'll let you borrow my prized bayonette from the battle in Antietam. It's a little rusty, but that's kind of the point. And remember, it's between the second and third ribs ... if you don't want him to suffer, that is. Butter knives are better if that's your game, little missy.