Even though it sounds like a National Enquirer headline (albeit an R-rated version) this story is actually completely true. Julie Boyd dated her now-husband Mike for years. But it wasn't until their wedding night, when the couple first did the deed without a condom, that Boyd realized something was really, really wrong. Experts call the painful-sounding issue seminal plasma hypersensitivity -- which is just a fancy way of saying "sperm allergy" -- and say that it affects up to 40,000 American women.

This article did two things for me. One, it made me flinch and cross my legs. Duh. Two, it reminded me how much you can sometimes fool yourself into believing that you're really in charge of every little twist and turn in life -- you'll get married at such and such age, you'll have kids at such and such age (and yes, when I say you, I really mean me)...and then, one day, life turns around and wham! You're allergic to your husband's friggin’ sperm! Forget babies. Let's just focus on how not to be in horrible pain after every shag, shall we?

Bottom line: You just never know when life is going to throw you a sucker punch. Poor Julie (and Mike)!

Readers, have you ever head of anything like this? Or have any of you experienced anything like this?

A new poll by British retailer Debenhams has connected men's underwear-buying habits with the status of their romantic lives. The poll said that between the ages of 19 and 23, men buy the most undies (up to 31 pairs a year!), believing, apparently, that fresh drawers will help them land love. Huh... Not the worst strategy I've ever heard. But 31 pairs a year? Dang!

Store representatives explained that how much underwear a man is buying can indicate whether he's looking for a partner. Buying lots? He's on the prowl. Next-to-none? He's in a stable relationship and may have found his soul mate. The biggest reveal? When a man is really ready to settle down, he'll "let" the woman in his life start buying the briefs. So, congrats, all you ladies with your man's waist size scribbled on your shopping list. Guess it means he's really, really into you.

I'm not so sure these stats apply to Jack. First of all, I can say with complete certainty that he's never bought 31 pairs of anything in a single year. And second, even though we've been together for 10 years (married for two), I've purchased underwear for him exactly once. Was it because we were experiencing a romantic high point? ’Fraid not. It was because he was working crazy late and couldn't make it to the store during business hours.

My guess is that if a similar poll were done in the US, it would generate vastly different results. Most of the men I know are very opinionated about every single thing they put on -- especially their unmentionables -- and they really prefer to do their own shopping.

But who knows? Maybe, like the study says, Jack will pass the baton to me forever after he turns 44, and I'll be in charge of fetching his boxer-briefs for the rest of his days.

Dare to dream.

What about you? Do you think this poll holds any weight? Is everyone out there on an underwear-buying spree I just don’t know about? Dish!

At nearly every wedding Holly and I have attended, there's a moment -- usually in the final minutes before the ceremony -- where people start to panic that everything isn't going to happen exactly as it should. Something small happens (like the father of the bride isn't where he's supposed to be) that reveals a deep lack of organization that no extra 10 minutes of rehearsal could have prevented. I hate to say it, ladies, but that’s when you all start freaking out. We guys? Not so much.

You see, the only wedding that I, a man, have been intimately involved in was my own. During every other wedding (even when I was in the wedding party) I had the objectivity to see that, regardless of whether everything went perfectly, the couple was going to end up legally hitched, thus rendering the wedding a success.

During weddings, I often feel like I'm watching a play at a community theater. People miss their cues and flub their lines, but who cares? The mistakes are endearing. But I notice that quite a few women, regardless of their specific role, seem so emotionally invested that they've thrown that objectivity out the window.

So I think it's only logical that the person directing all this madness be a man.

Thoughts? Feelings? Venomous, raging hate mail? Hit me. I'm curious to hear what women think about this.

I find it strangely comforting that Holly named the fight we have about her interrupting me as our most common argument. It makes me feel like she's in a phase of heightened awareness and we really are on our way to putting this topic behind us.

Here's the deal: Holly loves fast-paced conversation, whereas I'm more of the dramatic-pause type. I like people to wonder whether I'm taking a really long time to respond because I'm deep in thought, or because I'm about to sneeze.

I don't get to take very many of those pauses when I'm talking to Holly. I know that if I pause for too long, there's a chance she'll jump in and finish my sentence for me. On the one hand it keeps things moving, I stay alert, and often emerge from the conversation feeling like I burned a few calories. On the other, I don't need to burn any calories. I used to feel emasculated by the interruptions, but I've let that go. I'm clear now that that isn't Holly's intention. So I guess it belongs in the category of "the challenges of marriage that no one ever articulates when talking about how marriage is challenging." I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's obvious that Holly is trying to change -- which makes me more than willing to meet her halfway.

Let's hear from other guys -- what's your most common argument?

This year, Jack's parents are coming to spend Thanksgiving with us. They are always so gracious and nice about the way I do things when they come visit -- I just wish I could say the same. Whenever we stay at their house, there's a point where I come close to freaking out, and it's always over the same thing.

Food.

The thing is, my in-laws eat much differently than Jack and I do. Take, for example, the "salad" my mother-in-law made the last time she visited. The ingredients? Shredded cheese, mayonnaise, and canned pineapple. Yep, that's what I said. What I didn't see? Lettuce. Or any other vegetable.

Don't get me wrong. I am far from the healthiest eater in the world. But there's something about two or three days of straight starch and meat that makes me feel like veal. I start to panic and obsess on the way they eat and how horribly wrong (wrong!) it is. Of course, it's just my control freakishness hiding behind a little thing called self-righteous indignation. Argh! I hate how well I know myself.

Has anyone else had to deal with in-laws with weird food habits?