Dear Miss Lonelyhearts,

I'm a single white female who works in a male-dominated office. You'd think that I'd be batting off the men but NOOOOOO. Not once have I ever been hit on, and it's really pissing me off. I'm cute and personable in a non-threatening way. I laugh at my colleagues stupid immature jokes. I even pay for the coffee when we go on a Starbucks run in the afternoon. And what do I get in return? Nothing. Meanwhile, all my female coworkers, with their bottled-blond hair and see-through blouses, are getting all the action. I don't want to become the office slut or anything like that. I just want a guy to for once, you know, grab my ass at happy hour. Help!

Signed,

Unappreciated and Not Sexy Enough, Evidently, in Nebraska

Dear UNSEEN,

I empathize with your desire to be wanted for both your brain and your taut young behind. There were days when Miss Lonelyhearts was known for both, but these days, both the brain and the booty have disappeared. Aye, that is the rub: we want to be taken seriously in the workforce so we suppress our sexuality until we get old and ugly and realize how much showing a little leg really did grease the wheels. Don't lie to yourself UNSEEN, a bit of exposed flesh never hurt anyone, and it might even get you a promotion!


Dear Miss Lonelyhearts,

I'm beginning to think my coworkers don't like me. It's crazy, right? My mother says I'm being too sensitive. Whatever, Mother. It's just lately I've really started noticing people turning the other direction when they see me or avoiding eye contact with me in the hallways. The other morning when I got to work, I saw one of my coworkers at the elevator bank. I said hello and made a comment about how cold it was outside. You know, I was just trying to make small talk. So when the elevator arrives, instead of getting in with me he stays put. I ask him if he's coming and he tells me he doesn't like crowded elevators and will wait for the next one. It was just me and one other person getting in the elevator! Well, I asked Cindy, who works in the next cubicle, what she thought. She just laughed, which made me laugh and feel better. Then she had to rush off to a meeting. Fine. Only there was no meeting. I know. I checked her Outlook calendar. So, what I need from you is a foolproof way to figure out if my coworkers truly don't like me. Some sort of test or something. I just got to know. It's enough to make a person go postal, know what I'm saying?

Signed,

Perpetual Anxiety Regarding Associates' Negative Opinion of me In Detroit

Dear PARANOID,

I'm afraid your only option for determining whether your co-workers truly dislike you (or just find you mildly irritating) is to feign illness. I'm not talking about coming to work with a virus, no one likes people with the flu. Instead, I'm talking about a slow moving, highly fatal form of cancer. Show the symptoms of your fake illness slowly: fatigue and nausea at first, then chunks of hair falling out, and finally into your reliance on a cane just to walk to the lunch room. Don't be specific about what kind of cancer you have and definitely don't say that you have skin cancer because no one will care about that. (Or cancer of the anus. Poor Farrah Fawcett. She was hot at one point, but I don't think you could get away with it.) Milk the sympathy and goodwill of your coworkers in order to make them like you. Don't talk often about your illness, rather shuffle around the office on your "good leg" and watch how they beam at your perseverance. After six months of your brave fight, go in for experimental treatment and be miraculously cured. Not only will they like you, they will all want to be your best friend. Then, when your popularity is at its highest, drop it on them like a joke. "Oh, I was just kidding about the whole cancer thing. Who wants burritos!" Trust me, it will be hilarious.

GOT A PROBLEM ONLY MISS LONELYHEARTS CAN SOLVE? SEND HER AN E-MAIL.

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