There’s something unmistakably different about people who grew up in the 1970s. That decade didn’t just shape a generation; it forged a particular kind of resilience that psychologists are still trying to name. But if you've lived it, you already know exactly what I’m talking about. Let’s start with the myth everyone gets wrong. Somewhere along the line, we decided that more supervision equals better kids. More structure. More oversight. More adults hovering like concerned hummingbirds. Well… the 1970s kids politely, firmly, and with grass stains on their knees proved that idea completely wrong. Picture it: You’re seven years old. Your mom hands you a bowl of cereal, points vaguely toward the front door, and says, “Be home before dark.”  No GPS. No play-date calendar. No adults narrating your every micro-emotion. Just you, a bike with questionable brakes, and the neighborhood. Your days were an adventure, building forts out of scraps, inventing games with sticks, settling arguments with rock-paper-scissors instead of a parent-teacher conference. If someone got hurt, you handled it. If you got bored, you invented something. If there was drama, you solved it yourselves because, frankly, there was no one else to do it. That freedom wasn’t neglect, it was trust. And neuroscience now tells us something 1970s moms understood instinctively: unstructured play literally builds a sharper, more creative brain. It’s called executive function, but we just called it “go outside.” And let’s talk about awareness. You learned to read the neighborhood like a map. You knew which yards you could cut through and which ones belonged to people who would come out yelling. You could sense from a block away whether the older kids were feeling generous or looking to torment somebody. That wasn’t anxiety, that was survival intelligence. A sixth sense. Then there were the afternoons when you’d let yourself into an empty house with the key hidden under the flowerpot. No panic. No hand-holding. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the knowledge that you could handle a few hours alone. Those quiet afternoons hardwired confidence into you. It was competence disguised as routine. And the boredom, oh, the boredom. You’d wander into the living room, sigh dramatically, and announce, “I’m bored.”  Your mom, without looking up from folding laundry, would say, “Then go find something to do.”  That was the entire conversation. No screens. No curated enrichment. Boredom wasn’t a crisis; it was a creative nudge. And because of that, 1970s kids grew into adults who can sit with silence, wait with patience, and actually think without needing a device to distract them. All that understimulation? Turns out it’s a creativity superpower. And yes, we climbed trees that were too tall, biked without helmets, jumped off things we should not have jumped off, and built ramps so structurally unsound they would give today’s parents cardiac arrest. Did we get hurt? Of course. But we learned something crucial: the difference between danger that feels scary and danger that is  scary. That’s called risk calibration. We just knew it as “Don’t go higher than the branch that bends.” And on those weekends when all your friends were busy, and it was just you and your imagination? That was the birthplace of something rare today: the ability to enjoy your own company. Being alone wasn’t loneliness. It was peace. Here’s the one nobody talks about: emotional resilience. When you were upset, maybe you failed a test or had a falling-out with a friend, you didn’t have a phone to text ten people for validation. You lay on your bed, stared at the ceiling, felt the feelings, and waited for them to pass. You learned that emotions are temporary. That discomfort isn’t fatal. That you can ride out the storm without an audience. Psychologists now call this emotional regulation. We called it Tuesday. And then there was the art of waiting. Really waiting. All week for your favorite show. Months for a birthday. A whole year for Christmas. The anticipation made the payoff sweeter. Today, everything’s instant, but 1970s kids grew up with delayed gratification baked into the culture. And it shows. Studies say it leads to lower addiction rates, better decision-making, and more stable relationships. We just thought we were waiting for The Six Million Dollar Man . And then the failures, the real, character-shaping failures. You fell off your bike? “You’re fine. Try again.” You struck out and lost the game? You played again the next day. No adults swooped in to protect your feelings. No participation trophies. You learned that failure isn’t fatal. It’s feedback. That resilience followed you into adulthood. 1970s kids don’t crumble when life gets messy, they troubleshoot. They adapt. They look for the lesson. They get up again. You also learned social intelligence the old-fashioned way, by actually dealing with people. No adult referees. No “let’s process our feelings in a circle.” You navigated friendships, conflicts, misunderstandings, alliances, betrayals, and hurt feelings, all without coaching. You became fluent in tone, subtext, and the tiny shifts in expression that reveal more than words. People assume unsupervised childhoods create emotionally distant adults. In reality, it created some of the most emotionally attuned people out there. And now? Those same kids are parents and grandparents. And they’re the ones who can watch a child struggle and, with every instinct screaming, choose not to intervene right away. Not because they’re cold, but because they know that too much protection grows anxiety, not strength. They know that confidence doesn’t come from cushioning the world; it comes from learning you can handle it. The truth is simple: The 1970s generation was raised by freedom, shaped by boredom, strengthened by risk, and sharpened by independence. Their resilience wasn’t taught; it was lived. And maybe… just maybe… we’ve made raising kids far more complicated than it needs to be. Sometimes the greatest gift isn’t shielding someone from struggle, it’s helping them develop the muscles to face it on their own.

The sun just got a little warmer, the vibes a whole lot sharper, and the advice? Well… it just got real. Ask Uncle Gary  has officially landed at SoCal Magazine , Southern California’s Cultural Portal, and is now the proud home of the most straight-talking, heart-listening advice column on the West Coast. From Palm Springs to Pasadena, we’re serving wisdom with a wink, truth with a twist, and compassion with just enough sass to keep things interesting. These are the questions you whisper into your coffee cup, the secrets you only tell your steering wheel, and the dilemmas that hit you at 2 a.m. when the ceiling fan suddenly becomes your therapist. Whether you’re knee-deep in a workplace disaster, stumbling through love like it’s leg day, or trying to forgive someone who isn’t even pretending to be sorry, Uncle Gary’s here—no judgment, no nonsense, just sunshine, empathy, and the kind of clarity that makes everything snap into place. SoCalMag didn’t just pick up an advice column. They inherited a community, one built on warmth, honesty, and a sense of humor that makes you feel a little less alone and a lot more understood. We’re live. We’re local. And oh yes… we’re listening. Dive into the latest letters, send in your own, and see why readers keep coming back for the truth bombs they didn’t know they needed. Your new favorite corner of the internet is waiting at SoCal Magazine’s Ask Uncle Gary . Click in, and don’t be shy.

Hey Gary, I’m staying in a safe house right now, and some of the routines here are different from what I’m used to. I’ve looked for information, but nothing is written down, and when I asked one of the counsellors, they suggested I write to you directly. So I’m hoping you can help me understand this better. I know you’re supposed to change your underwear every day, but what about t-shirts and socks? Is that every day or every two days? And what about other clothes? Should those be changed daily, or can they be worn more than once? Also, is it okay to have a bath every two days, or should it be more often? Lastly, should bedding, sheets, be washed every week? I’ve tried looking online, but I can’t find clear answers about personal hygiene, like how often you should change your clothes or bathe to stay clean and not smell. It feels like nobody really talks about this, and I don’t want to get it wrong. Thank you for taking the time to read this. I’d really appreciate your help. Hey there, First off, thank you for writing in with such honesty. You’re absolutely right—people rarely talk about this stuff clearly, and it can feel like you're supposed to just “know.” But hygiene isn’t instinctive for everyone, especially when routines get disrupted or you’re in a new environment. So let’s break it down. Underwear and socks : Yes, daily is the gold standard. They sit closest to your skin and collect sweat and bacteria fast. Fresh ones each day help prevent odor, irritation, and infections. T-shirts : If you’re sweating a lot or wearing them as a base layer, treat them like underwear—change daily. If it’s a looser shirt and you’re not sweating much, every two days can be fine. Do the sniff test if you’re unsure. Other clothes (jeans, hoodies, jackets) : These can usually go a few wears before washing, unless they’re visibly dirty or smelly. Jeans, for example, can go 3–5 wears. Hoodies maybe 2–3. The key is airflow—hang them up between wears so they don’t trap moisture. Bathing : Every day is ideal, especially if you’re active or in close quarters with others. But every two days is okay if you’re not sweating much and you’re changing your clothes regularly. If you’re skipping a bath, at least wash your face, armpits, and groin with a washcloth and soap. Sheets and bedding : Weekly is a solid rule. If you’re sweating a lot or eating in bed, maybe more often. If laundry access is limited, aim for every 10 days max. Clean sheets help with sleep and skin health. And here’s the real talk: hygiene isn’t just about avoiding smell—it’s about feeling good in your body, showing respect to yourself and others, and keeping things predictable when life feels chaotic. You’re already doing the hard part by asking. That’s more than most. Regards, Uncle Gary

Hey Uncle Gary, I’m a 26F married to a 27M. We’ve been together 8 years and have two young kids. Our relationship has had serious issues, including his cheating, constant arguing, and growing resentment. I’m a stay-at-home mom, which makes leaving harder, but I feel divorce may be necessary. At the same time, I’m scared of being away from my kids on his custody days, and I worry our youngest, who has speech delays, might regress in daycare. I’m torn between staying unhappy for the kids or divorcing because we don’t get along. Is it possible to rebuild love, or am I holding onto something that can’t be fixed? Signed, Should I stay or should I go? Dear, Should I stay or should I go, My friend, what you’re carrying is heavy, and it’s perfectly understandable to feel torn when your heart is being pulled in two directions at once. Now, I want to say this clearly and calmly, cheating, constant arguing, and years of resentment  don’t just fade away because we squint real hard and hope for the best; healing demands honesty, accountability, and a real commitment to counseling or therapy from both of you, not just you holding everything together with duct tape and good intentions. And I hear the fear in your voice about being away from your kids, especially with your youngest needing extra support, but children often grow the most when the parent they rely on is steady, centered, and not living in a storm every day. Whether this marriage can be rebuilt depends on whether he’s willing to do the real work, and I mean the kind where a therapist says, “Let’s try that again,” and he doesn’t roll his eyes, but you shouldn’t stay in misery on the off-chance that love might boomerang back someday. What matters most is choosing the path that brings you peace, because your kids don’t need you to be perfect; they just need you to be whole. Signed, Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, I’m 19 and live with my parents. My brother (32) and his girlfriend, she’s either 21 or 22- I live about 15 minutes away, but they stayed with us this weekend for my dad’s birthday. My brother and I aren’t very close, and I haven’t talked much with his girlfriend, but she seems nice. We’re close in age, and we go to the same college, so I could actually see us becoming friends. (The age gap between her and my brother is a little weird, especially since she’s basically my age, but he’s my brother, if he’s happy, I try not to judge.) Last night, my brother decided they were going out for drinks. My parents were already asleep, and his girlfriend didn’t seem excited about going; it was already 10 or 11 p.m., but I didn’t say anything. Not my place. I stayed up working on school stuff in the kitchen. Around 1:30 or 2 a.m., I heard them come back. They passed through the kitchen, and his girlfriend was clearly very drunk, slurring, stumbling, barely able to walk. I asked if she was okay, and my brother said she was fine, that they’d “only had a couple drinks.” He seemed eager to get her downstairs to the basement, where they were staying. Something felt off. She was way more drunk than he was letting on, but I brushed it aside. About 10 minutes later, I heard a phone ringing on the counter. I ignored it at first, but it kept ringing. When I checked, it was her phone, three missed calls from “mommy.” That struck me as odd. My own mom would never call me three times at 2 a.m. unless it was serious. When it rang again, I decided to bring it down to her. I knocked before heading downstairs, but since the phone was still ringing, I didn’t wait long. As I started down, I heard grunting noises that abruptly stopped, followed by rustling. That’s when it hit me what I was walking into. I immediately stopped and apologized, saying I was just bringing her phone because someone kept calling. My brother said it was fine and told me to come down. When I got to the bottom, he was standing there in a towel, looking more than just embarrassed; he looked nervous. His girlfriend was under the covers, seemingly naked, and definitely either asleep or passed out. I hesitated, but the smell in the room confirmed what had been going on. I handed him the phone and went straight back upstairs. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She had been so drunk she could barely stand, and he seemed totally sober. It made me feel really uncomfortable, especially since she’s basically my age. I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t seen anything directly, but my gut was screaming that something wasn’t right. I ended up telling my mom in the morning because I couldn’t shake the feeling. Later, my brother came upstairs alone. I said hi and went to my room. I overheard my mom talking to him quietly, and a few minutes later, he came into my room looking angry. He accused me of making up serious stuff I didn’t understand and told me to stay out of his business. I told him I wasn’t accusing him of anything, I just felt uneasy about what I saw. I said if I were in her position, I’d want someone to speak up. That only made him angrier. He told me I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about and stormed off. When they both came upstairs later, he wouldn’t let me talk to her. Her eyes looked bloodshot, maybe from crying, maybe just tired, I couldn’t tell. Then he rushed them out, saying they were going to eat. They’ve come back since, and she clearly looks like she doesn’t want to be near him. I tried to talk to her a few minutes ago, but she waved me off. My brother gave me a weird look, too, but maybe I’m just overthinking. My mom later thanked me for saying something. My dad, on the other hand, told me I might’ve overstepped, that I don’t know the full story, and could’ve caused trouble based on an “immature, impulsive reaction.” Now I just feel weird. Guilty. Confused. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I should do something, but I also know I can’t call the police or anything based on what I saw. I didn’t witness anything directly. But my gut still says something was wrong. Signed, Confused Sister  Dear Confused Sister, First, let’s make one thing crystal clear: your gut isn’t gossip; it’s your intuition, and it’s doing its job. You saw a situation that didn’t feel right, and instead of freezing or pretending not to notice, you acted . That takes courage, maturity, and empathy. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for that. Now, about what you witnessed, your instincts are right to raise alarms. A woman who’s “barely able to walk” cannot give meaningful consent. I don’t care if they’re dating, married, or meeting for the first time; being in a relationship doesn’t make it okay to take advantage of someone in that state. What you described could very well fall into the category of sexual assault. You were right to tell your mom. You gave the adults in your home a chance to step in. That was the responsible thing to do. Your father’s reaction, while probably coming from a place of wanting to protect family unity, can be considered misplaced. Sometimes “staying out of it” isn’t noble; it’s cowardly. Silence protects the wrong people. Here’s what you can do now: Document what happened.  Write down everything you remember, times, what you saw, what you heard, and what was said. It’s not about accusing, it’s about clarity if this ever needs to be revisited. Keep an eye out for her.  You said she goes to your college. If you ever see her alone, away from your brother, check in gently. A simple “Hey, you seemed uncomfortable the other night, are you okay?” opens the door. She may not talk now, but it shows her someone noticed and cared. That can mean more than you realize. Talk again with your mom.  She seems to trust your instincts. Ask her to keep an open mind and support you if the girlfriend ever reaches out or if you learn more. The fact that her  mom was calling repeatedly that night suggests she might’ve been worried for a reason, and that detail could matter later. Don’t confront your brother alone.  He’s already defensive. Let your parents handle any future discussion with him. What you saw can’t be unseen. It’s unsettling, confusing, and heavy, but you did the right thing. You acted from conscience, not from drama. Keep trusting that voice inside you. It’s not “immature.” It’s integrity. With respect and admiration, Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, My stepmom keeps introducing my husband as my “friend.” Not once, not twice, every time . We’ve been married for over two years, and it’s not like she doesn’t know. She was at the wedding. She’s met his family. She’s seen the ring. At first, I brushed it off as forgetfulness or awkwardness, but now it feels intentional. Like she’s minimizing our relationship, or refusing to acknowledge it. It’s starting to feel disrespectful, not just to him, but to me as well. I don’t want to cause drama, but I also don’t want to keep biting my tongue while she erases something that matters deeply to me. Should I say something? And if so, how do I do it without turning a family gathering into a showdown? Signed, More Than Just a “Friend” Dear More Than Just a “Friend,” Let’s start with the obvious: this isn’t about forgetfulness. Your stepmom was at the wedding. She’s met your husband’s family. She’s seen the ring. She knows. And yet, she keeps calling him your “friend”, which isn’t just inaccurate, it’s dismissive. Now, I’m going to say something that might hit a nerve, but I say it with love and clarity: your stepmom is likely still in the closet about your relationship. Whether she’s ever said it out loud or not, her behavior suggests she’s carrying her own unresolved fears, shame, or internalized stuff around queerness. And instead of facing it, she’s projecting it onto you. That doesn’t make her a villain. But it does mean she’s not in a place to celebrate your marriage the way it deserves. And that’s painful, especially when it comes from someone who’s supposed to be family. So yes, you should say something. Not to shame her. Not to start a war. But to draw a boundary. Because your marriage isn’t up for debate, it’s real. It’s valid. And it deserves respect. Here’s how you do it: next time she says “friend,” gently but firmly correct her. “Actually, he’s my husband.” No sarcasm. No lecture. Just truth. If she brushes it off or gets defensive, you can follow up privately: “I’ve noticed you keep calling him my friend. That hurts. We’re married, and I need you to honor that.” You don’t need her approval. But you do need to protect your dignity. And your husband’s. Because every time she erases your relationship, she’s sending a message, and it’s okay to send one back: “We’re here. We’re real. And we’re not going anywhere.” If she’s struggling with her own identity, that’s her journey. You can offer compassion, but you don’t have to shrink to make her comfortable. You’re not just more than a “friend.” You’re a spouse. A partner. A whole damn love story. And it’s time she learned to say it out loud. Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, Mid-hookup, this guy just stops and goes, “Yeah I think I’m done, your breath stinks.” I was mortified. Like crawl-into-the-earth-and-disappear mortified. I left immediately, didn’t say a word, just dipped. Thing is, I looked good  that night. Full glam, full confidence, full-course-meal energy. But apparently my breath said “leftovers.” We’ve known each other for months, and now I’m sitting in this Uber wondering—did I just ruin everything over one bad breath moment? Is there any coming back from this? Or am I officially the girl with the stank breath he’ll never text again? Signed, Mortified and Mintless Dear Mortified and Mintless, First off, let me say this loud and clear: one moment of bad breath does not  define you. You are not “the stank breath girl.” You are a full-glam, full-course-meal human who had a very human moment. And while this guy may have delivered his feedback with all the grace of a sledgehammer, that doesn’t mean you’re doomed to romantic exile. Now, let’s talk about breath. Halitosis happens. It’s not a moral failing. It’s science. It can come from poor oral hygiene, sure, but also from dry mouth, stress, spicy foods, sugar-heavy diets, smoking, vaping, or even medical conditions like GERD, sinus infections, or diabetes. Heck, even nasal congestion or certain medications can turn your breath into a biohazard. So unless you’re licking garlic cloves between kisses, this isn’t about being “nasty.” It’s about being human. That said, if this guy’s reaction felt cruel or abrupt, that’s on him. A little tact goes a long way, especially when you’ve known each other for months. If he never texts again, it’s not because your breath was bad; it’s because his bedside manner was worse. But if he does  reach out? You get to decide whether you want to revisit that connection. You’re not obligated to chase someone who made you feel small. You’re allowed to say, “Hey, that moment sucked. I felt embarrassed. But I’m not defined by it, and if you can’t see that, we’re not a match.” In the meantime, hydrate, floss, brush your tongue, and maybe keep a mint in your clutch just for peace of mind. If the issue persists, check in with a dentist or doctor. But don’t spiral. Don’t rewrite your whole identity around one awkward moment. You’re not mintless. You’re magnificent. And anyone worth kissing should know the difference. Uncle Gary

Hey Uncle Gary, Twenty years of marriage. Five kids. Back in February I lost my job, and though I’ve recently found another in the same field, it came with a 50% pay cut. I was overpaid before, and the financial stress has been crushing. I’ll admit it, I haven’t been the best husband these past months, buried under the weight of being the sole provider. Meanwhile, my wife started going out three to five nights a week, coming home drunk more often than not. While I was away for two weeks on a work assignment, my kids were texting me almost nightly that Mom wasn’t home. When I got back on Halloween, I took the kids trick-or-treating while she went out again. A few nights later, she claimed she was with a friend, but I’d just run into that friend at the grocery store. My gut told me something was off. I checked her phone. Found texts with a man I’d never heard of, going back weeks, heating up while I was gone. I confronted her. She deleted the messages, swore he was “just a friend.” But the next day she asked for a divorce. Then I saw a text to him: “I have good news. Can’t wait to talk.” Now she’s giving me full custody of the kids. No fight, no conditions. Just gone. Here’s the reality: I work 7 to 4, Monday through Friday. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get five kids to school, pick them up, and still keep food on the table. I’d been picking up side gigs to make up for the pay cut, but that’s off the table now. I asked if we could work on things. She has no interest. I haven’t slept in two days. I’m heartbroken. I’m lost. And I’m suddenly a single father of five. What do I do? Signed, Father of Five Dear Father of Five, First, let’s pause on the most important fact: your kids. They texted you when Mom wasn’t home. They leaned on you when things felt unstable. And now, whether you asked for it or not, you’re the anchor. That’s not punishment, it’s proof of who they trust. Yes, you’re heartbroken. Yes, you’re exhausted. But you’re also the one who showed up on Halloween night, who took them trick-or-treating when their world was wobbling. That’s the job description now: show up, even when you’re running on fumes. Here’s the hard truth: your marriage is over. She’s chosen her path, and you can’t drag her back. What you can  do is stop bleeding energy into the “why” and start pouring it into the “how.” How do you keep five kids fed, schooled, and loved while rebuilding your own life? Start with logistics. Schools have resources, before-care, after-care, bus routes, carpools. Lean on them. Don’t be shy about asking other parents for help; you’d be surprised how many will step up when they know you’re carrying this load. Next, money. A 50% pay cut hurts, but you’ve already proven you can hustle with side gigs. Now you need stability more than extra cash. Focus on keeping the main job secure, then explore supplemental income that doesn’t pull you away from the kids, remote work, weekend shifts, even creative freelancing. And don’t forget you. Sleep. Eat something green. Talk to someone who isn’t under your roof. A counselor, a buddy, a sibling, anyone who can remind you you’re not alone. Because right now, isolation is your enemy. You’re not a “shit husband.” You’re a man who got crushed under pressure and is now standing in the rubble, trying to figure out how to build again. That’s not failure, that’s the start of resilience. Your kids don’t need perfect. They need present. They need Dad at the table, Dad at pickup, Dad who listens when they say they’re scared. You can do that. One day at a time. One meal at a time. One bedtime story at a time. You asked, “What do I do?” You do the thing you’ve already been doing: you show up. And you keep showing up until the chaos quiets down and the new normal feels like home. You’ve got this. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. And because those five kids already know, you’re the one they can count on. Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, I (25F) love my boyfriend (27M). We recently talked about exploring our sexuality, including swinging or threesomes, and admitted we’re both bi-curious. I told him I’d support him if he wanted to explore, as long as it was safe and honest. The very next day, he met a man from an app and had sex. Afterwards, he told me he enjoyed it in the moment, but doesn’t want to do it again. He says it felt unnatural, he doesn’t think he’s bi, and he never wants to play without me involved. I’m glad he was honest, but I feel conflicted. Part of me is upset he acted so quickly, and I worry he might not be telling me the whole truth. I regret giving the go-ahead and now feel like I’ll never see him the same way again. Am I being unreasonable for feeling icky and upset, or should I just get over it? Signed, Icky and Upset Dear Icky and Upset, You’re not unreasonable. You’re human. You gave your boyfriend permission to explore, but permission doesn’t erase the emotional whiplash of watching him sprint out the door the very next day. It’s one thing to talk about curiosity in theory; it’s another to watch it play out in real time. That “icky” feeling you’re sitting with is your gut telling you this moved too fast for your comfort. Listen to it. Here’s the good news: he was honest with you. He didn’t hide it, he didn’t lie, and he came back to process it with you. That’s a sign of commitment, even if the timing was clumsy. The bad news: honesty doesn’t automatically make the feelings easier. You’re allowed to feel conflicted, even regretful, about the green light you gave. That doesn’t make you controlling or “the asshole.” It makes you someone learning where your boundaries actually are. The bigger takeaway here isn’t whether he’s bi or not; it’s how the two of you handle exploration, trust, and pacing. If you feel like you’ll never see him the same way again, that’s worth unpacking. Not in a “get over it” way, but in a “what do I need to feel safe and respected in this relationship” way. Boundaries aren’t retroactive, but they are  adjustable. You can say, “I thought I’d be okay with this, but I’m not. Here’s what I need going forward.” That’s not weakness, it’s clarity. So no, you don’t have to just swallow the ick and move on. You do have to decide whether this was a one-off bump in the road or a crack in the foundation. Either way, the next step is a conversation about pace, boundaries, and how you both want to explore, together or not at all. And if you ever feel like you’re being gaslit by your own generosity, remember: support doesn’t mean self-erasure. You can be encouraging and  protective of your own heart at the same time. Signed, Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, I have a question that feels a little unusual, and I haven’t met anyone, or even heard of anyone, in quite the same situation. Is it normal for me not to orgasm during sex? I genuinely enjoy being intimate with men. I’m a bottom, and I feel confident in what I bring to the experience. The pleasure itself is wonderful, yet I’ve never had a partner who could make me ejaculate. With toys like Fleshlights or other masturbators, I have no problem reaching climax, but when I’m bottoming, it’s as if the connection to my front side just shuts down. I’m curious whether this is something other men experience, or if there’s a way to better understand what’s happening with me. Signed, Curious Bottom Dear Curious Bottom, First off, thank you for asking the kind of question most people keep tucked away in the “don’t talk about it” drawer. You’re not odd, you’re human, and humans are endlessly varied when it comes to sex. It’s actually not uncommon for men to enjoy bottoming without ejaculating. For some, the pleasure is more about the intensity of sensation, intimacy, or the psychological thrill rather than the mechanics of climax. Think of it like eating a decadent meal: sometimes the joy is in the flavors and textures, not just the final bite of dessert. There are a few reasons why your body might respond differently during partnered sex versus solo play: Stimulation focus:  Toys like Fleshlights are designed to directly engage the penis, while bottoming shifts sensation elsewhere. Your body may prioritize one pathway over the other. Mental wiring:  Orgasm isn’t just physical, it’s tied to relaxation, trust, and focus. If your brain is more absorbed in the role of bottoming, it may not “route” energy toward ejaculation. Individual variation:  Some men simply don’t climax from penetration alone. It’s not broken, it’s just biology. The important part is this: you’re already experiencing pleasure and satisfaction. Orgasm is not the sole measure of sexual fulfillment. If you’d like to experiment, you could try combining stimulation, manual or toy play on the front side while bottoming, to see if that bridges the gap. But if you don’t, you’re still perfectly normal. So yes, other men experience this. And no, it doesn’t mean you’re missing out; it just means your body has its own unique rhythm. The real win is that you’re enjoying sex, confident in yourself, and curious enough to ask the question. That’s a healthy sexual life by any measure. Signed, Uncle Gary

Hey Uncle Gary, My mom (39) is dating her coworker (20). I’m 21, and I’ve actually known him for years; she even tried to set me up with him last summer. We flirted a little, nothing serious, but now he’s her boyfriend. It feels gross, like I’m part of some twisted fantasy. My mom has always been my best friend, the person I trusted most. This broke something in me. She knows how I feel about her dating guys close to my age, but younger than me? I can’t respect that. My younger siblings (19, 14, 9) have already met him and accepted him, which makes me worry they’ll think this is normal. I told her I can’t have her in my life if she keeps seeing him. She said my words were “hurtful” but didn’t acknowledge how betrayed I feel. I love her, but I’m disgusted, heartbroken, and lost. Am I wrong for thinking a 20-year-old shouldn’t be dating a 40-year-old with kids? How do I protect myself without blowing up my family? Signed, Confused and Sick to My Stomach Dear Confused and Sick to My Stomach, That’s a tough one. You’re not crazy, and you’re not overreacting. What you’re feeling is betrayal, disgust, confusion; it’s not just emotion, it’s your boundaries lighting up like a dashboard warning. Your mom didn’t just start dating someone young; she started dating someone who’d been in your orbit.  Someone she literally once tried to set you up with. That’s not just awkward, it’s a boundary blur that would make even Freud need a drink. Here’s the thing: your mom’s choices are hers. You don’t have to approve, but you also don’t have to torch your peace over them. You get to decide what kind of contact you can handle while your feelings are still raw. Right now, that might mean space. Real space. The kind that lets you breathe without picturing them at Thanksgiving dinner. But don’t confuse boundaries with punishment. You’re not cutting her off because you want to hurt her; you’re protecting yourself from further hurt. That distinction matters. It keeps you grounded in self-respect instead of guilt. As for whether it’s “wrong” for a 20-year-old to date a 40-year-old with kids? Let’s call it what it is: a massive maturity gap.  The power dynamics, life experience, and emotional development are all uneven terrain. It’s not illegal, but it’s definitely messy, and it rarely ends well. The fact that it’s upsetting you this deeply means something important: your moral compass works. You see the imbalance clearly, even if she can’t right now. Still, you can’t parent your parent. She’s making a choice that’s painful for you to watch, and sometimes the hardest kind of love is the one that steps back. Here’s what I’d do: Draw your boundary clearly.  Tell her you love her, but you can’t engage while she’s with him. No threats, no ultimatums; just clarity. Find your own support.  Therapy, journaling, or even venting to a trusted friend. You need a safe place to unload what you can’t say to her right now. Give it time.  People in midlife can go through phases that are basically emotional adolescence. Sometimes they wake up. Sometimes they don’t. But her timeline for self-awareness isn’t yours to manage. You’re allowed to step back without making it a family war. Protect your peace, keep your dignity, and remember: her behavior reflects her stage of life,  not your worth or your role as her child. You sound like the grown-up in this story, which is both unfair and incredibly telling. But keep that grace. You’ll need it when she eventually realizes what she’s done. Stay steady, Uncle Gary

Why Some People Quietly Steal the Room (and How You Can Too) Ever notice how certain people walk in and the air changes? Not because they’re shouting or peacocking, but because something about them just lands.  They’ve got that invisible pull. The kind that can’t be bottled, branded, or posted with a #mindset caption. Everyone talks about charisma like it’s a genetic gift. It’s not. It’s learned. Practiced. Built from habits so small they barely look like effort. The Real Secret to Magnetism (Spoiler: It’s Not a Beard Oil or a Power Pose) We’ve all met that  person. They walk in, and the room just… shifts. Not because they’re loud, sparkly, or doing that weird “I’m the main character” thing. It’s quieter than that. A kind of gravity. The sort of calm confidence that doesn’t need to post about it. Meanwhile, the internet’s out here telling you to “own the room,” “be mysterious,” and “say less.” Cute slogans. Useless advice. I’ve tried them all in my twenties and thirties. What actually works? I went full nerd, books, lectures, podcasts, psychology studies, the whole thing. Turns out magnetic people aren’t born under some auspicious star. They just practice habits  that make other people feel good around them. That’s the real flex. And yes, you can learn it. No cape required. 1. Warm confidence The most magnetic people don’t puff up or shrink down. They hold space like it’s second nature. Vanessa Van Edwards calls it the “charisma scale”, a mix of warmth and competence. When you’ve got both, people lean in. You’re not performing; you’re inviting. So next time you’re talking to someone, skip the “let me impress you” act. Try actually understanding  them. That’s the power move. 2. Pause before reacting It’s subtle, but it lands. A half-second pause makes you more thoughtful, grounded, and hard to rattle. Neuroscientist Jud Brewer says that pause breaks your brain’s autopilot loop. Translation: you stop reacting, start connecting. It makes you more thoughtful. 3. Pace your words Watch any TED Talk worth remembering. Nobody’s sprinting through their sentences. They let words breathe. Slower pacing makes you credible and centered. Record yourself sometime, then slow it down by 20%. You’ll suddenly sound like someone who’s got a corner office and  a meditation practice. 4. Redirect attention instead of chasing it Magnetic people don’t dominate conversations with “that reminds me of me.” They turn the spotlight around and make you  feel like the interesting one. Negotiation expert Chris Voss teaches this trick: mirror someone’s words, label their emotion, and watch them relax. Charisma isn’t about stealing the mic; it’s about handing it over with style. 5. They speak with their body Former FBI guy Joe Navarro says your body tells the truth long before your mouth catches up. Tiny things matter, eyebrows slightly raised, palms visible, feet pointed toward the person you’re talking to. Those cues quietly say, “You’re safe here.” It’s human body language, not Jedi mind tricks. 6. Make silence safe This one hit me. Magnetic people don’t rush to fill every quiet second. They let silence breathe, and suddenly you feel calm around them. Stephen Porges’ Polyvagal Theory calls it “co-regulation”. Your nervous system is syncing with someone else’s steady vibe. Translation: presence, not performance. Uncle Gary’s Charisma Toolkit Captivate  by Vanessa Van Edwards, everything you need to decode human behavior without turning creepy. The Art of Charm Podcast is a real-world confidence training minus the cringe. Deepstash , bite-sized wisdom for when you’ve sworn off doomscrolling. BeFreed , an AI app that builds your own personal learning playlist from expert talks. Ten minutes a day and suddenly you’re that  person. Magnetism isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being present. Showing up as the calm in the chaos. The guy who doesn’t need to prove anything because his energy already says it. So, what subtle habits have you  noticed in people who just quietly own the room?