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"  This month&amp;#039;s letters are about fantasies\u2014the good, the bad, and the fabulous....  DEAR E. JEAN : I&amp;#039;m a pretty, smart girl who&amp;#039;s gone through shattering, horrible, tragic heartbreak because of a man I absolutely adored. After I spent half a year getting to know him, then a year and a half in the gawdawfullest part of the South trying to develop a relationship with him, he unceremoniously dumped me. I came to my senses, moved back to New York, and began a new career. My problem? He is flying in for business and has asked me to dinner.  I&amp;#039;ve thought endlessly about what I&amp;#039;m going to wear, revved up the diet and exercise, imagined all sorts of ridiculously expensive restaurants he might invite me to, but I (honestly!) don&amp;#039;t indulge any grand fantasy of him saying: &amp;quot;I was wrong; I&amp;#039;m moving here to be with you. Marry me.&amp;quot; My question: Should I even bother spending an evening with this man? And if I end up seeing him, do I play it cool? Or should I be all sugar, like I normally am? I really want him to eat his heart out! Clearly I&amp;#039;ve lost all perspective.\u2014Slightly Over the Edge SLIGHTLY, SUGAR : Should you &amp;quot;bother&amp;quot;? Please. If I duct-taped your Manolos (with you inside them) to the top of the Empire State Building, you&amp;#039;d show up at the restaurant, dragging the spire behind you. Go. Be yourself. But I warn you: Your imagination has lathered up the smoochie-smoochie so thoroughly (dress, menu, &amp;quot;will you marry me&amp;quot;\u2014yes! Don&amp;#039;t fib to Eeee), your skepticism has been lost in the shuffle. The man&amp;#039;s an &amp;quot;unceremonious&amp;quot; ass. Therefore, allow me to suggest another scenario: You kiss him good-night in front of the restaurant; you jump in a cab, slam the door, wind down the window, throw him another kiss; and, as he stands throbbing on the sidewalk, you zoom away\u2014gloriously, gorgeously indifferent. E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com DEAR E. JEAN : Several years ago, I sent you a question about finding direction after law school. Your advice worked (thank you so much!). Now I need your help again. I have a very challenging, intense, rewarding job in television news, by which I&amp;#039;ve been so riveted, I haven&amp;#039;t dated for eight years. However, I&amp;#039;ve now met a guy\u2014nice, thoughtful\u2014and we&amp;#039;ve shared some romantic moments. Rationally I know it could go nowhere, but I&amp;#039;ve developed an extremely distracting crush! It&amp;#039;s interfering with my work responsibilities, which I take seriously. My managers have treated me with great respect over the years because I&amp;#039;m supersharp and on my game every day\u2014but now! I&amp;#039;m on the phone giggling, gabbing with girlfriends, checking my e-mail constantly, and spending every idle moment fantasizing that he will be The One.  To get more travel opportunities (the guy lives on the other coast), I must keep up my performance. How can I focus, accomplish both my professional and personal goals, force myself to stop daydreaming, and look at my task list? I know this is a silly question!\u2014Trying to Focus TRYING, MY TENDER TROLLOP : Pah! Nothing&amp;#039;s more serious. If you want to impress your managers, you must daydream of the bugger. Why? Dwelling on the dude drenches your brain in natural amphetamines. And what is more prized in television news than speed? Hmm, Miss T? Indeed, I advise you to ponder the lad seven and a quarter, even eight minutes an hour. Your managers will be so thrilled with your new energy (and gregariousness and optimism), they may promote you to chief of both coasts. Of course, any pleasure you might receive from the fantasies\u2014apart from the career boost\u2014is, naturally, entirely secondary. P.S. You are an intriguing woman, Miss T. The last time we met in this column, you were chock-full of career fantasies. You&amp;#039;re good at making reality out of fantasy (an unimaginably cool talent). On this occasion, don&amp;#039;t let the reveries lead to premature expectations (e.g., the lad being The One). DEAR E. JEAN : I&amp;#039;m a 29-year-old, educated woman with a solid career and a two-year-old baby girl. I&amp;#039;ve been married for five years to a man I&amp;#039;ve come to detest! He hasn&amp;#039;t held a real job in four years, he&amp;#039;s a religious zealot (when he saw ELLE on the coffee table, he turned it facedown...no, I am not kidding), and he plays Xbox for a minimum of five hours a day. Help! I can&amp;#039;t stand being in the same room with him! But I&amp;#039;m scared to ask for a divorce. Number one, because of my daughter, and number two, my husband gave me herpes. I possess a quick wit and a sense of humor, and I&amp;#039;m attractive, but I can&amp;#039;t imagine who&amp;#039;d want me with herpes.\u2014In Need of Sage Advice E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com NEED, HUNNY : And if I ever see the Xboxing oaf on my coffee table, I&amp;#039;ll turn him facedown. Now. About the herpes. It&amp;#039;s tough, yes, but it&amp;#039;s not the end of the world. I read your letter to the illustrious Dr. Johanna Baeuerle, who, in addition to having her own practice, is an assistant clinical professor of dermatology at Columbia University. She said: &amp;quot;The days of herpes being a stigma are over. It can be managed. Medication can control and decrease the virus. I suggest the letter writer join an online support group. She&amp;#039;ll discover wonderful people who are very open about it.&amp;quot;  Dating sites (like H-date.com) are good, and people with herpes seem to hold more social gatherings than the cast of Laguna Beach. (Check with your local support group.) But doll, don&amp;#039;t limit yourself. If you meet someone you like, make sure you like him, and then broach the subject with a cheery, &amp;quot;We have to make sure to protect you, because I have herpes.&amp;quot; Then the ball will be in his court.  As you can divine, I&amp;#039;m encouraging you to leave the clod. The man is so empty, such a ludicrous example for your daughter (playing Halo five hours a day\u2014come on!), and so beneath you, it&amp;#039;s time to move on. You&amp;#039;re brimming with wiles and wit, and you can&amp;#039;t &amp;quot;imagine who&amp;#039;d want [you] with herpes&amp;quot;? Darling, I can&amp;#039;t imagine who wouldn&amp;#039;t. DEAR E. JEAN : How do I talk my boss into giving me a raise? I&amp;#039;ve worked wonders for her small company, but she&amp;#039;s like a schoolmarm. Everybody must clean their desks, she double-checks the smallest expenses, and she&amp;#039;s incredibly tightfisted. How do I get her to see my worth?\u2014Getting Out My Begging Bowl DEAR BEGGING : A raise? Forget it. She&amp;#039;ll only brush you off with, &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s not in the budget.&amp;quot; Instead, insert your stiletto where&amp;#039;s she&amp;#039;s most susceptible\u2014her bottom line. Say: &amp;quot;I know funds are scarce right now, Miss Lick Penny, but it&amp;#039;s my job to make your company successful. Here are my 2007 monthly projections.&amp;quot; (Hand her a chart. Queenpins are like snakes. They strike only when they see something move, like their money.)  The chart will illustrate the glittering jump in revenue you&amp;#039;ll personally create for her company in the coming year. (Keep your forecasts accomplishable, and if you can come up with an idea for creating new revenue, all the better.) Then ask her to give you a bonus for each month you meet or exceed your projections. And add with a smile: &amp;quot;As you see, Miss Lick Penny, we both win when I hit these projections.&amp;quot; E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com DEAR E. JEAN : I am 25, live in the city I&amp;#039;ve always dreamed of, work at the job I&amp;#039;ve always yearned for, live in the apartment I fantasized about in college, and have the successful boyfriend and the awesome friends. But it doesn&amp;#039;t feel right. I&amp;#039;m not happy. In public I&amp;#039;m very outgoing and sociable, but when I&amp;#039;m alone I cry. I miss my family. My boss yells at me. My apartment costs an arm and a leg. Why am I so sad all the time? I&amp;#039;m stressed, nervous, tense\u2014but I&amp;#039;m living my dream life!!\u2014Crying in My $2,100-a-Month Apartment CRYING, SWEETHEART : Naw, you&amp;#039;re living the nightmare you dreamed up as a starry-eyed ditz in college. Of course you&amp;#039;re &amp;quot;stressed, nervous, tense&amp;quot;\u2014hell, you&amp;#039;re not even the same person you were last week, let alone the girl who &amp;quot;always&amp;quot; fantasized about the big job in the big city. Stop blubbering. Learn from this, reject being beaten by it, take a week, go home, and reassess.  Bring along Stumbling on Happiness, a book by Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert. It will annihilate everything you think you know about being happy. As Dr. Gilbert writes, &amp;quot;If we have trouble foreseeing future events, then we have even more trouble foreseeing how we&amp;#039;ll see them when they happen.&amp;quot; And for gawd&amp;#039;s sake, move out of that apartment! DEAR E. JEAN : I met a great guy online. We&amp;#039;ve been e-mailing and talking on the phone for a year. I like him a lot (he&amp;#039;s a genuinely nice guy with a great job that pays well). When we finally met recently, I thought he was cute, and we had a good time. But when we went outside in the cold, his nose turned a purplish-red color! This was a huge turnoff for me. Am I being shallow? Or am I so used to jerks that I can&amp;#039;t deal with being treated kindly? When I think of dating him again, all I can picture is that nose.\u2014Ugh! or Ah!  MISS SNOOT : Stop &amp;quot;picturing&amp;quot; the thing and give him another chance. Or, better: Send him and his fine, large, virile rudder to me. I love a lad with a genial proboscis, be it red as a geranium or fuchsia as Bill Clinton&amp;#039;s. Indeed, I shall fall in love with your chap myself if I write another syllable. E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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