Interracial Marriage? Not for My Kid!

Dear Robin:

My husband and I are African-American professionals with two grown kids. We raised our children to be proud of their heritage and imbued them with the history of blacks in America and the Civil Rights Movement.

Both children have earned college degrees and while our daughter is in law school, our son (32) has become a very successful entrepreneur.

The problem is my son has been dating a white woman for a year and now plans to propose to her.

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Ex’s Husband’s Wife is Overstepping with My Kids

Readers:

“Boss Boning Blaire” saw my preview yesterday and emailed me to add some pertinent new developments.  Those developments require further work on that blog so bear with me as I take the time needed to fully appreciate her situation.

In the meantime, some of you can probably relate to the letter below, whether you are a parent whose kids have stepparents or a stepparent yourself.  Blended families are tough but it’s possible for everyone to get along!  Or is it…

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Is Everyone Having Sex with Their Boss?

Dear Readers:

It’s hard to believe but I received yet another email from an advice-seeker who is sleeping with the boss.  Not surprisingly, it’s a woman.

Sigh.

Of all the letters I’ve received on this subject, and there have been dozens, I have yet to hear from a man who is sleeping with his boss.  

If any of you men out there are giving your superior a little taste of your bologna pony at lunch or otherwise, please email me.  Please.

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Why Did You Do That, Robin?

Dear Readers:

Yes, I understand this is Monday, not Friday and therefore Friday Feedback, but I can’t sit on these thoughts until the end of the week.  It’s not simply that I’m bursting to express myself like a new mother stuck in a long meeting, but also that my 45-year-old brain has been incredibly forgetful as of late.  

If I don’t write this down today I’ll lose it into the ether of middle-aged forgetfulness, where it can be reunited with my glasses, my car keys and the reason I exit my office to go downstairs every few hours, only to wonder what the hell I am doing there.

Let’s just dive right in because this is a very touchy subject (ha!) and I’d rather not pussyfoot around before forcing my views on you (double ha!).

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