Once upon a time, there was a prince. The prince was not the tallest, handsomest or most athletic lad in the land, but he was charming, and most people thought he was funny or something. One night, the prince decided to go to a ball at his friend’s castle, a large manor high on a cliff above the sea. It was a thoroughly magnificent affair, complete with a musical conductor, a contraption that created the sensation of dancing in a cloud and an ice chest filled with all the light natural ale one could drink.

As the prince reached to grab a canister of ale, his hand brushed against another, much softer hand. He looked up and into the most brilliantly green eyes he had ever beheld. The sounds of music and laughter disappeared, and all the prince could hear was the beating of his own heart, suddenly loud, thumping with great force against his chest. He was frozen in place, and it seemed to him that he could do nothing more than look into her eyes, sparkling and shining in their ethereal divinity. The princess giggled and extended her hand.  

“I’m Aphrodite,” she said with a voice as graceful as the stars.  

“Wrrrrr,” said the prince, who was still recovering.  

When he regained his senses, the pair sat on an ottoman, and soon the princess found herself thoroughly charmed. Several canisters of ale later, the prince felt a clatter in his bladder, and, excusing himself, slipped off to the open-air outhouse. As he relieved himself in a high arc onto the beach below, he marveled at the magic of the night and wondered if maybe, just maybe, the princess would one day be his queen. Smiling to himself, he returned to the castle, only to be met with a shocking scene.  

Princess Aphrodite was on the dance floor with a tall, bronze, muscular duke, doing something that resembled dancing but looked more as if he was using her backside to polish his pantaloons. The prince watched with horror as they passionately embraced and left the castle hand in hand. Devastated, he spent the rest of the night drowning his sorrows with his good friend Morgan, a mustachioed sea captain.  

If you’re a forlorn prince who’s in need of advice or a damsel secluded in a duke’s tower, e-mail me at dearigor@gmail.com, and I’ll be your magic mirror.

Freshman Gets Ready For Traditional Turkey Drop

Dear Igor, 
I am a first-year who is still dating her high school boyfriend. When high school ended, we decided to stay together, even though we would be going to different schools (he’s at San Francisco State). We were in love, you know? Well, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to maintain a long-distance relationship, especially here at UCSB, where so much stuff is always going on and people are ridiculously attractive. I still love my boyfriend, but I feel like that same level of connection just isn’t there. What do you think I should do? 
Dimming Flame Dame 

Dear Dame, 
End it. It’s not worth it. Nothing’s worth it.

You think you know love? I once knew love. Ha! You notice someone, you look at them, you stare at them, they look at you nervously, that’s love. And then you find out it’s all a lie. What your mom didn’t tell you was that all those attractive, beautiful people out there are just waiting to hurt you. They’re not going to tell you that, no, no… first they’re going to flirt with you and laugh at your jokes and press their breasts against your arm, but then just when things are going perfectly, they’ll drive a tank over your heart. And your heart wasn’t wearing its anti-tank sweater that day. So then you call your mom and ask her why she didn’t tell you that, but she’s at a work function so she can’t talk right now, so you hang up on her and cry.

Wait, what was your question?