Fancy Pants Romance! I like to read the E. Jean advice column in Elle magazine.  I can not believe the things she gets asked.  One gal writes in and says she's been dating Mr. Dreamboat for a year and they haven't had sex yet.  They've had lots of foreplay, but whenever she tries to initiate sex he says, "Bad things can happen."  Why won't he have sex with her, E. Jean?  Well, E. Jean wisely advises the gal to either get the guy into sex therapy or run for the closest exit, but what the hell was the gal thinking?  How the hell would E. Jean know what specific (and undoubtedly horrific) reason this guy has for avoiding sex?  And this is mild compared to some of the letters, which are just pathetic:  "Dear E. Jean:  My boyfriend drinks until he gets really violent.  He beats me up but always says he's sorry the next day and I LOVE HIM.  What do I do?"   What the hell is that about?  Who are all these women who need advice about such blatantly obvious life management issues?  I'm just glad I never leave my house.  And no, I don't hate women.  I hate everyone.  Isn't that romantic?