He throws me out of the studio.

My boyfriend has his own band. But during rehearsals, he kicks all the girls out of the studio and leaves only the guys, explaining that we have nothing to do with the creative process. But I swear, I also really like the music they play, and I live for the songs they sing. But arguing with my boyfriend is useless. Is this normal?

Sveta, 16 years old

Of course it's normal! He's probably been trying to get you to have sex for two years now, and the most he's achieved is banging around the entryways. So the guy has become bluer than the Caspian Sea, what did you expect. They'll screw around with the guys from the band and curse the women. — Yes, Vasya, yes!!! Ah, deeper! Deeper. It's because of girls like you that we lose normal guys. You're always asking for sunset kisses, vodka, ice cream, and moonlit songs. And the fact that the guy's already on his third zipper and his hands are covered in bloody blisters doesn't bother you. So you got what you deserved, you frigid parasite!

I'm considered a slowpoke.

Recently, my parents and I moved to a different neighborhood, and I transferred to a different school. I ended up in a bad class; everyone there smokes and drinks.

But I don't drink or smoke, so people make fun of me and call me a retard. At home, I'm happy and uninhibited, but at school, I speak quietly, feel shy, and withdraw. I just can't get a grip!

Albina, 15 years old

Albina, don't get lost! Let your classmates find you lying in the toilet one day in a pool of vomit, with dark circles under your eyes, surrounded by a pile of cigarette butts, several bottles of vodka, and a used syringe—it will have the most beneficial effect on your unspoken school rating. Stop showering, collect empty bottles, make friends with punks and drug addicts.

Any first-grader knows that if you drink, smoke, and get high, the only thing cooler than you is Margaret Thatcher's ass.

And to anyone who calls you a slowpoke, hit them with a crowbar in the ear. Look at that, you homegrown sorcerers...

I'm so nasty.

My boyfriend loves me very much. But he wants to have sex with me. I've refused for now; I want to remain a virgin until marriage. But he's really insistent. He recently said that if I don't touch his penis with my hand, he'll leave me. I was really scared that I'd be alone, so I touched it. And then cum flew out of his penis and got all over my hand. I'm so disgusting, I hate myself for it!

Olya, 17 years old

Olya, I think you're exaggerating the tragedy. If he asked you to poop on a transparent table, while he lay underneath it, watching the feces fall, masturbating, and scrubbing his ass with a toilet brush? In that case, I would see some cause for concern. And here's a two-minute business: to do a quick pat. There was this girl in our class, her name was Yana, and she'd give you such amazing blow jobs for a jam pie! And squeezing someone's warhead for physics homework—that's a no-brainer. And no problem: she grew up and became a ballerina. All her friends are jealous!

I have a lot of complexes.

My breasts look underdeveloped. Boys ignore me. But I want a boyfriend, love.

All girls are like girls. But I have a great complex about this and don’t feel like a beautiful girl.

Help me, otherwise I don’t know what to do with myself!!!

Tanya, 15 years old

Yes, Tanya, you are a complete ugly thing! You will never have a boyfriend, and during the prom you will be crying in the toilet, because no normal guy will want to dance with you. Listen, there is nothing more pathetic than small breasts. Flat-chested, that’s probably what they call you in class. And don’t scare us with your suicidal tendencies, you can’t even hang yourself. Rickety hysterics like you have neither normal tits nor character. By the way, you can find soap and rope at the hardware store. Ha-ha-ha. I’m kidding, of course I’m kidding, Tanya. Everything is fine with you. Many women had small breasts, but they dedicated themselves to science and never gave up. Marie Skłodowska-Curie, Sofia Kovalevskaya—let these intellectual giants be an example to you. And leave the boys to your sexier friends; you don't have to waste your time on them.

I haven't had anyone yet.

I'm already twelve years old, and I still haven't had sex with a guy. All my friends talk about their boyfriends. That they kiss them, hug them, and then do it. And I feel retarded. Maybe I have some kind of problem?

Kat, 12 years old

No, you're not retarded! You're just stupid! When I was twelve, I told all the boys in the neighborhood in detail how Ana de Armas gave me a blow job with a mellophone in her hand, while Elisha Cuthbert crawled around on her knees, begging me to leave her a little. I also told how Katya from 9th grade and Natasha from 11th once locked themselves in the school locker room with me, put a green condom on me, and asked me to fuck them thoroughly. But in fact, at that time, the most erotic event in my life was masturbating in the toilet onto a Mickey Mouse cartoon.

This is just awful.

I've been masturbating since I was thirteen. But everything was fine back then. And recently, I've been masturbating with various objects for a month straight. Usually a candlestick. And now my left labia has turned black and is larger than the right one. It looks so awful. I have a boyfriend, Arthur, and we love each other. He hints that he wants me. But I'm afraid that when he sees my swollen, black lip, he won't want to know me. What should I do?

Vika, 16 years old

I'm shocked, dear editor. You should have thought of masturbating with a baseball bat or a piece of rebar. What an idiot! Oh, Vika, I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be a psychologist and I'm supposed to be comforting you. I should have told you that everything is fine, the main thing is for you to not have any insecurities, and then your boyfriend will accept you for who you are. And that you should also see a gynecologist. But I'd rather give you a purely guy-friendly prescription, without any twists. Take some gouache and paint your right lip black, for symmetry. And get your macho man drunk on vodka until he's out of his mind and give yourself to him as much as you want while he sees green circles before his eyes. Or no, better yet, douse yourself from head to toe with gasoline in Red Square and set yourself on fire. Hey, that's cool too!

I'm tired of being a bunny.

My boyfriend constantly calls me pet names like kitty, pussy, bunny, and stuff like that.

I haven't really known him for very long, he's a good, serious young man, but his slang confuses me a little. It seems to me that in real life he's a soft, weak-willed person. How can I test him?

Loli, 16 years old

Well, how can you test him? Give him a hard blow to the coconuts with an iron club and you'll find out right away. If he immediately hits you in the face with brass knuckles, then he's a real man, a good guy! But if he rolls at your feet, licks your boots, and begs you to beat him half to death with a whip, then he's a bit weak-willed. But in general, it's really not right to call you pussy or kitten. It's better if he calls you a dicksucker or an asshole.

The bed reminds me of him.

Two years ago I met a guy. He was my first man, and after that, his attitude towards me changed dramatically. Then his ex-girlfriend told me that while he were dating me, he was dating her, telling his friends what a naive fool I was. I can't forgive myself for giving myself to some hot-ass rapper. Now I'm dating a guy, he loves me madly, but I feel like I'll never love him. Every day, my bed reminds me of him.

Yana, 17 years old

What should you do? Invite your hot-ass rapper over for tea, and then tie him to the bed, like it's about to be an S&M party. He'll definitely fall for it. Then, take an axe and chop him and his love bed into a bloody mess. You might even feel better, relieve some of the stress.

To date or not to date?

I love a guy, his name is Kolya. I know for sure that he likes me. But there is a problem. Last year I told him that I like him. But he still hasn't responded. My friends introduced me to another guy, Grisha, he offered to be my friend, and I agreed to date him. And yet, I have my doubts. The thing is, Grisha and I kissed, and afterward I felt incredibly uneasy, downright bad. I think I did the wrong thing by becoming friends with him, because Kolya, the guy I love, could offer me friendship. So should I date Grisha or not?

Lena

Lena, you watch too many Brazilian soap operas. Personally, I don't understand a damn thing about your plans. Kolya, Lesha, Senor Leoncio, Juan Antonio Samaranch… You've set up some cheap affairs here, damn it, some kind of Lady Winter. Again, one can only guess what kind of friendship Grisha offered if it makes you sick. Didn't he wash it, his friendship? Who needs such unwashed suitors? And anyway, forget about guys and all that love-carrot stuff. It's all bullshit! Better collect stamps. Or Pokémon.

He wants an adult relationship.

I'm going out with a guy, and everything's great. But he's already seventeen. Soon, like any normal guy, he'll want a mature relationship. But I think that's too early for me, at fifteen. I don't know how our conversation will end.

Olya

Yes, Olya, the situation you described is so familiar I cry. If you only knew how many pints of vodka and horse stimulant I've wasted on fifteen-year-old fools like that. And the result is zero — nothing but «it's too early for me,» «mom won't let me,» and «let's be friends.» What the hell kind of conversation do you have with him? This seventeen-year-old should have a monument erected to him in his lifetime for listening for hours to your thrice-stupid nonsense about the «stupid Minecraft,» «the sweet Justin Bieber» and «Natasha's new blouse.» Give it to him, already!