TOXIC BACHELOR

STAYING WITH YOUR PARTNER FOR THE SAKE OF IT? STOP DRIFTING AND START DUMPING SAYS STUART HOOD

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, says the Bible, but since no man in Britain falls into this category, this week you'll have to make do with my unrepentant rocks being tossed at British couples who are drifting aimlessly. Men and women sticking together because it's the easy thing to do, not because they're in love, but because they can't pluck up the courage to get out.

I'm not talking about those of you going through a difficult patch – get through it, every relationship has to. I'm talking about couples suffering a slow, inexorable, loss-of-libido, farmers'-market-on-a-Saturday-afternoon, Chinese-takeaway-and-DVD-every-Saturday-night death.

Couples like my mate Tommy and his missus Megan (names changed for reasons that are about to become obvious) who met at university and, bar the odd three-day barney, have been together ever since. Everyone thinks they'll get married. Everyone except Tommy, that is. He thinks they've reached the end of the road.

"She just doesn't do it for me any more," he confided. "You have to tell her," I retorted. "I can't," he replied. "It'll break her heart."

So he hasn't. Instead he's chosen a much-trodden male path – he's buried his head in the sand and his genitals in another woman, hoping the problem will disappear. He's an idiot.

This isn't la-la land – it's real life. Irreparable relationship issues don't just ‘go away'. They get worse. And worse. Until you reach the stage where not only can you not be friends, but you can't have the same friends or be civil to each other ever again. If the spark has gone, it's time for you to go too.

I'm not pretending it's going to be easy. When I split up with my longest-term girlfriend Emma (two years) it was a train wreck – tears, tantrums, one-night stands, snogging multiple blokes on nights out (and that was just me). But, eventually, we pulled ourselves together and emerged the other side bigger, better, happier people.

We did and, no matter how hard it seems now, you will too.

Dear Toxic Bachelor

I earn a lot more than my partner. It doesn't bother me, but he's uncomfortable with it. How can I make him see sense?

Go 'Pseudo-Dutch'. Appear to split the bills, but you pay for the expensive stuff and let him pick up smaller tabs. He's not vexed by the fact that you are richer than him, it's the fact it becomes obvious in certain situations (in front of his mates, colleagues, parents). At these times he must pay for the sake of his pride or you might as well chop off his bits and display them in formaldehyde.

THE TOXIC BACHELOR

STUART HOOD'S COUNTING HIS SPERM – AND DOESN'T CARE IF IT'S COMING UP SHORT

Look out ladies there's a new Toxic in town. My nephew Fin has just been born, and judging from his big blue eyes and Tom Cruise smile, he's going to be a bit of a charmer. But enough about him and back onto my favourite subject – me. I'm having a terrible week, and it's all Fin's fault.

OK, so it's not entirely his fault, it's more an issue regarding what he is – a baby – and when I'm going to father one – no time soon (well, I am only 28).

"Your turn now, Stu," poked my grandmother, bashing me in the crown jewels with her handbag. "And you'd better step up to the plate quickly. I've read your chances of becoming a father decrease at 35 – and by 40? You may as well not bother."

Her conclusion? My biological clock's ticking, so I need to cast aside my condoms, light some candles, and get impregnating NOW. My reaction? A slightly confused eye squint, shrug and desire to proceed as I am.

At this stage, it's important to clarify that my indifference to impending infertility isn't due to disbelief – I know better than to argue with science (or my gran) – it's just that men couldn't care less if their semen gets weaker as they get older.

Even if a man's in a relationship, if he's reached his 30s and he hasn't had children, he's come to terms with the possibility he never will. This isn't to say he doesn't want kids (I certainly do). It merely means he's realistic about the fact his current lifestyle choices are not conducive to fathering an infant. So it isn't even worth considering.

Men don't have kids "in case we can't have them later" or because we wake up one day and "want one". We have them because we (and you) have planned to.

We ask ourselves: "Am I with the right woman? Can I provide for three people financially?" And, most importantly: "Am I capable of growing up and looking after another human?"

Then we get scared, answer no, load Grand Theft Auto IV and change the subject. Talking of which, must go. Need to freeze my sperm before it's too late.

Dear Toxic Bachelor

After six years together, my boyfriend is keen for us to get married. I saw my parents go through a difficult divorce and I don't want the same to happen to me. How can I tell him I'm not the marrying kind?

Aside from a £20,000 bill, I'm not sure what difference a wedding will make. If you split up, married or not, it's going to be painful.

If you stay together, married or not, you need to communicate. Tell him straight. Chances are he's only pressing because he thinks it's what you want him to do anyway.

TOXIC BACHELOR

IT MAY BE CRUEL BUT IT'S TRUE – IF YOU DON'T HAVE IT, THEN DON'T FLAUNT IT, PLEADS A SARTORIALLY MINDED STUART HOOD

My friends and I play a game. It's called Fives and involves the loser degrading themselves in the name of ‘fun'. For example, getting my name henna-tattooed on my bum cheek on a Barcelona beach, but that's another story, for another time.

This week, I'm here – in my standard-issue skinny jeans, white trainers and polo shirt – to talk about style. A subject that brings me back to my mates and our games. Or, to be more specific, a little time-passer we call Bad Look Bingo.

Bad Look Bingo sees us tick off virtual cards by spotting female sartorial sinners. Most misdemeanours come and go with the season (high-waisted jeans were a low last year, gladiator sandals a particular bugbear this). But to give you a feel of the fun, here are a few regulars. Black round-neck top with black trousers (you think: "Effortlessly classy"; we think: "Is she just trying to make herself look slim?"). Floral dress accessorised with pearl necklace and earrings (you think: "Demure"; we think: "Who invited my gran?"). Inappropriately short skirt and low-cut top (you think: "I look hot!"; we think: "Trying to be sexy – likely to be easy").

Cruel? Of course it is. And while I'm embracing viciousness, yes, your bum does look big in that. And the reason is: you have a big arse. So what? Join the club.

I used to have a 30-inch waist. Nowadays make that a 34-inch. Obviously this hurt initially – cue a scuffle with a pair of 32-inchers that prompted a "Are you OK in there, sir?" and an end result that meant you could see my manhood from 30 yards. But then I realised clothes have sizes for a reason. And it's not to lower self-confidence or tag us ‘fat' or ‘thin'. It's so we can buy fashion that fits our body shape.

Now you can accept this, and use your wardrobe to accentuate your assets. Or you can ignore it and continue to air ill-fitting numbers. Your choice, but be warned: if you plump for the latter, your entrance may just be greeted by a man crying: "House!"

Dear Toxic Bachelor

I went out with a guy for four months, but we split up because he couldn't decide whether I was The One. Now I'd like to be friends. Is it possible?

No. When men and women have history, friendship is never possible – once the sex hurdle is crossed you can't go back. Unless, of course, by ‘friends' you mean the perpetual cycle of him sleeping with you, then shunning you because he's unsure whether you're The One, then sleeping with you, then shunning… If that's the case, it's possible. In fact, it's almost inevitable.

TOXIC BACHELOR

THINK ONLINE FLIRTING IS JUST A BIT OF INNOCENT FUN? STUART HOOD BEGS TO DIFFER…

Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned. I've kept something from you. I've been in a relationship with a girl called Marie for two months. A bliss-filled period that's seen us consummate our love, share our innermost secrets and live out our furthest-fetched fantasies.

I know, you're thinking I've let you down. Only I haven't. Because when I say "us", I mean Marie. When I say "our", I mean her. And when I say "share", I mean "inform via Facebook".

Admittedly, like most relationships that originate online, things were pretty innocent at first: "How are you?" "What music are you into?" etc. But suddenly something changed. Suddenly innuendo appeared in every second sentence. Suddenly I'd assumed the position of sexual sounding-board.

Every day I sign in and there's another email. Thousands of make-mum-blush messages from a lady I've "met" once, for 20 minutes, in a fish restaurant in Canada (that's the joy of Second Life for you).

Admittedly, I haven't discouraged her. But why should I discourage any of my online "friends" from flirting? Because Marie's gone too far, that's why. And I bet you have too.

Enchanted by social networking, you've swapped "Dear Diary" for "Dear Derek", confiding in virtual beefcakes and bestowing LOLs and XXs on men you barely know. And you do it because you can't foresee any reprisals. But I've got news for you: these admissions could endanger you.

The clue is in the name, you see. Facebook isn't faceless (and nor are Bebo, MySpace, MSN etc). On the end of every playful email are excited eyeballs, scanning your prose and misinterpreting its meaning.

You think your message is a little naughty. He thinks you're up for it. You think he's kidding about meeting up. He's on the internet booking flights.

So stop, please. However innocent you perceive your communication to be, for your own good, stop toying with strangers. Stop before your net-based confidant gets the wrong impression. Stop before an uninvited "friend" turns up on your doorstep.

Dear Toxic Bachelor

I've been with my partner for years. I love him and want to be with him forever, but I really want children and he doesn't. Can I change his mind?

If you're both in your 20s, stick with him, but tell him how you feel. Let it sink in (ie don't harp on about it) and there's a good chance he'll change his mind in the next few years. If you're both over 30, leave him. He's not young and he's not stupid.

He knows what a baby is and he's decided he doesn't want one – and no matter how much he loves you, the situation isn't going to change.

TOXIC BACHELOR

EVERY WEDDING NEEDS SOME SWINGING SINGLES TO GET THE PARTY STARTED, SAYS STUART HOOD

Taken. Taken. Taken. A five-hour train journey, two days off work, a £130 room and what do I get in return? Women, women everywhere, but not an available one in sight. Wedding ruined. Some people are so selfish.

Right now you're thinking ‘people' equals me. My cousin let me share her special day and all I can do is moan about not getting a chance to copulate, therefore I must be the definition of selfish. But hear me out.

For while it's true that weddings are about speeches, flowers and chocolate fountains, they're also about me.

Or people like me anyway: singletons available for dancing with old people, and for pitying or hooking up with the bride's fat friend. (Been there. Done that. Broke the hotel bed. Paid the £160 surcharge.)

Three roles I always relish because I understand the part single people have to play at weddings. We have to put ourselves on the line (chat to strangers, engage the elderly, jive like an idiot etc) and make sure everyone has a good time. We also have to realise it's not always going to end well.

Take my friend Steve's wedding. A waltz with an ancient aunt, which had the dual purpose of livening up the atmosphere and trying to impress the girl I fancied, Yvette, turned into an hour of hippy-hippy shaking, as young and old jostled to board the ‘Hood Train'. Did it impress Yvette? Don't know – while I was dancing she pulled my mate Mike.

But sometimes it ends magnificently. At Nick's wedding I was ‘That Guy'. You know, That Guy whose limbo lit up the dance floor, whose conga got the crowd moving, whose jig (replete with unintentional flash) got the grannies screaming. That Guy who, at the end of the night, snared his hottest partner ever – Jane, if you're out there…

So, succeed or fail, it matters not. On both occasions my actions sent everyone home with a story and a smile. And if that happens, everyone has enjoyed the wedding and we singletons have done our duty.

Dear Toxic Bachelor

We had to move in with my fiancé's parents after the purchase of our new house fell through. They're driving me mad with their interfering. Help!

Tell your bloke to dig out his man-pants and get his parents to back off. The chances are he knows they're suffocating the pair of you, but has been avoiding the confrontation.

Assure him you'll be there for ‘moral support' (and to check he doesn't lump the blame on you). If they're offended, they'll get over it. But if things stay the same, your relationship might not.