Tianna writes: I live in L.A. with my boyfriend, Skeeter. He is a talented musician known for his towering pompadour; he gets compliments on it all the time. I love his style and his confidence. However, he uses a thick hair pomade and sometimes goes for months without washing the grease out. I ask you to order him to shampoo his hair every two weeks.

I will make the order, but I have low hopes for compliance. Because Skeeter is not merely a musician; he is specifically a drummer in a rock band. (Yeah. I stalked you. It wasn’t hard. Turns out, a grown man with a pompadour who calls himself Skeeter wants to be found.) The point is: You live with a drummer. That is a lifestyle choice you made, one as bold and ill considered as being a drummer in the first place. And while you’re both adorable (and I now follow you on Instagram), you made your bed, and it is full of hair grease.