Dear Miss Jones,

I will just get right down to it. This guy I have a crush on mentioned to my friend a while back that he was sorta into me. Much to my happiness, I was interested in him, too. However, after hanging out a couple times, you know, watching movies and football games, he talks to my friend again and mentions that he isn’t so interested anymore, but that he has a plethora of women to choose from and isn’t so sure right now. Saddened by this news I moved on, still with a hint of a crush left for him. Christmas break occurs and my mind is completely free of this man. That is until a week before school starts when my trusty insider friend texts me. She tells me that he asked whether I was interested in him still, only to hint that he was still not into me. Yet this guy still comes over and watches football games with me and the occasional sitcom. What am I supposed to think?

Sincerely, Used and Abused

Used and Abused,

Wow, this problem of yours really just takes me back to my junior high school days, when my friends and I would poke and prod one anothers’ crushes until they oozed out the information we desired. Now, when we were in college, we did things a little differently. But, hey, if that relay through your friend works for you, then by all means, stick with it.

I know this kind of boy, the one that will come over and ride your new bicycle until the tires are flat, eat the delicious peaches from your tree until winter comes and watch your new Braun HF 12-inch black-and-white TV until the next-door neighbor gets the 16-inch one. Oh, yes, Used and Abused, I know this kind of boy. I know how hard it is for a girl to shut off her feelings, but this is the way I suggest you deal with it.

Option one: make plans with him to watch the next football game and then, the day before, tell him your TV broke, but you still want to hang out. If he finds a way to weasel out, then the solution is simple: delete his number from your phone, limit his ability to see you on Facebook and don’t make any initial contact. Let the little bloodsucker come to you.

Option two: reverse the roles. Believe me, if my days as a USO showgirl during World War II taught me nothing else, I learned that young men love role reversal. So instead of him coming over to use you, you go over to his pigsty of an apartment, play his Nintendo, drink his power juice or whatever those pure sugar drinks are called and use his toilet without putting the seat up or wiping it down after use.

There is no option three, but I’ll ramble on with a little story. I received my first kiss when I was in kindergarten. His name was Connor Harris, and he was dreamy, big blue eyes, dark hair, olive skin and a small birthmark under his left eye that I called an angel kiss. Of course, kindergarten boys spent all of their time avoiding girls, because of cooties and various other diseases. So what I did was devise a plan to catch this young Mr. Harris. I recruited my two best friends, Georgene and Henrietta, to flank the tree that the boys normally hid behind, while I took the head-on approach. When he saw me coming, he sprinted right, but was stopped by Henrietta. He turned left, only to find Georgene closing in. The three of us pinned him against the tree, tied his hands with our jump rope and placed him inside the empty tractor tire usually used by the second-grade boys as a bunker for their silly war games. I closed my eyes, leaned in and kissed him. The point I’m trying to convey is if you want something you have to make it happen, because males are way too dim witted to take our subtle hints. Just to finish things up, Connor is now a 300-plus-pound retired plumber, who lives in his childhood home.

Good luck and remember: “With as many times as Miss. Jones has been around the block, her directions must be good.”

E-mail your questions to be answered by Miss. Jones to statesman.miss.jones@gmail.com. Miss Jones is now on Facebook.