A family friend called and said I was her baby’s father. That’s impossible.

This special edition is part of our Guest Prudie series, where we ask smart, thoughtful people to step in as Prudie for the day and give you advice.

Scaachi Koul is a senior writer at Slate, the co-host of the Ambie-award winning podcast Scamfluencers, and the author of Sucker Punch and One Day We’ll All Be Dead And None Of This Will Matter. Sucker Punch just hit shelves this March.

We asked Koul to weigh in on pregnancy scares, surviving divorce, and dating cycles:

Dear Prudence, 

I never wanted to be a father. After one too many scares in college, I got the snip. I didn’t tell my mother or sisters because frankly, for being a bunch of dyed-in-the-wool liberals they have a real conservative streak (our family name dying out doesn’t affect me—we aren’t the royals). Over the holidays, I messed around with an old family friend a couple of times. I had to work Christmas through New Year’s Eve so I was visiting early. I got woken up by a furious phone call from my mother. The family friend claimed to be pregnant and I was named as the father.

My brain didn’t catch up to my mouth. I told my mom that was impossible since I’d had a vasectomy. My mother and sisters have been freaking out ever since. I am apparently too stupid and young to choose not to be a father and my future wife owns my body. I finally sent a text in the family chat: no dick, no opinion and I was blocking everyone until after January to give them time to cool off. I enjoyed the quiet but I don’t want to cut my family out of my life forever. So what now?

—Snippy

Dear Snippy, 

Wow, this is so much penis-talk with your family. Maybe your folks can adopt my father’s approach to genitals, which is that he seems to have a break with reality anytime they’re mentioned. He once turned off an animal documentary because two of the frogs started to mate. If I told my dad I got my tubes tied, he’d surely be upset in the same way your family seems to be, but his first reaction would be, “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR TUBES” and then he would dig a hole into the earth’s core and live there forever.

Anyway, this is a lot of ball-talk for the people you’re related to. If you want to be able to have a relationship with them, then it sounds like you have to accept some of their upset. Go over for Sunday night bangers n’ mash (I’m assuming—again, a lot of dick talk) and keep things cute and casual. If your refusal to sire an heir comes up, tell everyone you’re not going to discuss it further. If they won’t give it up, leave. You are an adult, and your penis is no one’s business other than your own.

Now: Should you be porking your family friends? No, stupid. If you want to keep your family out of your sex life, don’t wag your wiener at Aunty’s daughter.

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Dear Prudence, 

I’m a married single mom to two young boys. I am the breadwinner and primary parent while my husband works part-time. He’s a wonderful father (present, engaged, fun but firm) but a crappy husband (my needs are dead last every single time). We’ve been together a long time and as I look back on our relationship, I see all of the red flags I ignored, mainly due to low self-esteem issues and being afraid of being alone. I’m in therapy (solo, my husband refuses to go) trying to reconcile the anger I have at myself for not leaving the relationship early, at him for being such a hunk of junk to me, and the idea that I wouldn’t have my boys if I had left early on. I’m really struggling and my marriage is in rough shape. Due to financial reasons, we can barely afford my therapy, let alone a divorce. The idea of not being with my children every day is gutting. Finding time for myself is nearly impossible and I have zero privacy. I feel like a zombie most days and putting one foot in front of the other takes monumental effort. How do I survive this?

—Struggling in Seattle

Dear Struggling in Seattle,

You survive it by making a plan for how to leave it.

You describe your situation as wholly untenable: Your partner is a good parent (unclear how this is possible if he’s so dismissive of you, the other parent) but a very bad husband to you. You are deep in a well of anger at yourself (over someone else’s behavior, no less), and you’re burnt out from taking care of your kids and muscling through your financial burdens. I appreciate that telling you to leave feels simplistic and rote, and clearly, you know that’s your final destination. But to survive something is to create a version of the world where it isn’t happening anymore, and to inch yourself in that direction until you finally arrive.

I’m not entirely sure what you’re hoping to save in your current situation. You’re calling yourself “a married single mom,” a sentence that makes me so mad I could burst through a brick wall like the Kool-Aid Man. What is the point of being married if the guy still makes you feel like you’re doing everything alone? I know I sound like a broken record! I know I’m being a brute about it! I don’t care: leave.

You know who gets divorced? Pretty much everyone! It’s an unbearably common thing, done by the rich and the poor, the dumb and the smart. You can get a divorce too, if only you so choose to do so. Make a list of whatever it is you need to help you leave. Write down the tangible and intangible steps you know are coming, from finding your own place to live to how you might separate your bank accounts. (Call a lawyer for a free consultation, while you’re at it. Call two!) All of this will seem daunting. You will feel daunted. Feel free to weep and rage at the machine; divorce is exhausting. But don’t let it feel unapproachable or impossible. Our current defense secretary has been divorced twice. Anyone can do it, bookie. Literally anyone.

While you make your plan to leave, you need to fortify your community and foster it in every form. Do you have friends or family members who you trust? If not, go create some chosen family. Make friends with the parents of your kids’ friends. Join the PTA. Linger at soccer practice. Go on Reddit and start chatting people up in the divorcee forums. Read books and watch movies about starting over. Join a club. Volunteer at a soup kitchen. Take stripping classes and/or a self-defense course. Get really into breakdancing. Just hang out with people enough that a few of them know your favorite movie. (Mine is RoboCop.)

Once you have your friends around you, you’ll have to do the unimaginable and welcome them into your vortex of sadness. Isolation and despair are doubled by our very human and foolish insistence that we should suffer in silence. There are always people around hoping to help you, but they can’t unless you ask. I think often about how little I told people about how much I was struggling while trying to get out of my marriage. I wanted to show a brave face and not seem like such a resounding fuck-up. What did it save me? A bit of embarrassment? I ended up embarrassed anyway, several times over, about my divorce and then a hundred other little things. I now know that had I just asked, I would have at least saved myself some time and some pain. The shame was always waiting for me no matter what.

Tell your friends and family about your plan. Ask them for help filling in all the blanks. Your arrangements will fill out steadily, and you’ll see the path to putting it in motion. And one day, sooner than later, you’ll take a look at your life, and see how much you managed to transform it.

Dear Prudence, 

A really close friend of mine recently got out of a five-year relationship. The breakup was her choice, not his, but things seem as civil as they can be. In a conversation post breakup, she mentioned that she didn’t know who she was outside of being someone’s girlfriend. I am proud of her for seeing that line of behavior in herself. There is a slight age gap between us so sometimes I catch myself wishing she wouldn’t make the mistakes I have. Well, about three weeks after her breakup, she committed herself to a new boyfriend. I just can’t shake my disappointment. I’m finding it difficult to talk to her about him or even to her in general. I admittedly think this new flame isn’t good for her. But she is happy at the moment. I want to support her but I also want to hold her accountable for what she said about wanting to find who she is without being partnered. What do I do?

—Wanting the Best for Her

Dear Wanting the Best for Her,

While I was married, I had (and still have) one particular friend who just hated my ex-husband. She really hated him. Looked at him like he killed her dog. Every photo of her on my wedding day is a portrait of a woman being held hostage.

I knew she hated him because it seeped out of her pores, but she never gave me shit about it. Instead, she made herself a safe place for me to talk about what I wanted, deserved, and wasn’t getting. Mostly, she asked me questions, let me answer them, and allowed the ensuing silence to teach me a lesson. She tolerated him, which I was grateful for, but mostly I was thankful she didn’t make me feel humiliated when I did finally admit to her my marriage was over. So much was humiliating to me back then, in the heady days of a breakup, so it was nice to not be embarrassed in one more place, even if I sort of felt like I deserved it.

But this is what a lot of friendship is: turning a blind eye, periodically, for the sake of someone’s feelings. No one can be dragged into their future, and your friend clearly isn’t done avoiding herself just yet. While I know it’s tempting to hold your three to six (I’m guessing) years over her head, as if you’re some neighborhood sage ready to impart your hard-earned wisdom, that likely won’t work. All you can do is remind your friend—if and when the time comes—that she said she wanted to get to know herself outside of being some yokel’s girlfriend.

If you think this new guy sucks, you should tell her in a way that doesn’t make it sound like you’re going to hold it over her head for the rest of their relationship: I don’t love this guy for you, I think you can do better, and I know you talked about wanting to find out who you are before jumping into something new. From there, if she pushes back and stays with the guy, you sure got your answer. You can’t make everyone face themselves, and when this relationship falls apart—which so many of them do, as you know, o’ wisened crone—you get to decide if you want to be around for this little catastrophe, or to protect your peace and convert yourself into a loose acquaintance.

—Scaachi

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