Talking to Girls About Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield

Okay, before we get too far into this, everyone should know that this book doesn’t come out for a whole week.

This is very exciting for me.

Not only did I hold the book in my hands before the unwashed, unshaven, apparently wholly uneducated about hygiene masses, but the version I held was special. And not just because it was an uncorrected proof. Not just because Steve Perry was named Steve Terry at one point, something that confused the shit out of me for a second. This is all very new to me, so instead of thinking right away that there was a one-letter typo, my world started swirling with the possibilities of an entirely new band led by Steve Terry, a man who sounded by all description like Steve Perry, patron saint of sincerity in the face of ridiculousness, but was in fact an entirely different man.

Let’s leave it there because the details of how long this was in my brain and how badly I wanted it to be true are goddamn embarrassing.

No, this was not just special because of the ghost of Steve Terry. It was special because this is the official launching of my career as a book critic.

Here is my basic career outline:
1. Get books before they come out.
2. Review them. Post on helpfulsnowman.com.
3. This is wildly popular somehow.
4. Actually get paid to review books.
5. Start career as sincere, earnest critic with insightful things to say.
6. Almost immediately slide into the world of writing cover quotes that are about half a sentence. “The writer has defied science and written a book as electrifying as it is grounding.” “More mesmerizing than a swinging pocket watch right in front of my goddamn face that time I was in Vegas and somehow ended up at a magic show.” “Not since I got a lighter with a woman on it where you rub her bikini and it disappears have I been this invested in the resolution of a mystery.”
7. Get job at the New York Something.
8. Attempt to discourage young, Bambi-eyed kid reviewer from getting in over his head, actually reading all these books he reviews.
9. Bury corpse of Bambi-eyed kid reviewer somewhere near the waterfront.
So without further ado, let’s get this career a-launching!

Most of you probably know Rob Sheffield as a contributing editor to Rolling Stone. Or you might have seen him on one of those shows where people ranging from cultural critics (such as Sheffield) to Vern Troyer (alcoholic Golem on a mobility scooter) talk about things of great consequence, such as whether Michael Jackson could actually destroy a car with all his might.

Those of you who are very lucky might have read his previous book, Love is a Mix Tape. If you haven’t, get off your ass.
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The important thing to know is that the guy does an awful lot of writing, so it’s not a brand new game for him. This isn’t some silly biography that starts off with the thrilling tale of who his great-grandfather is and why we should give a good goddamn. This is a silly biography that takes us through the songs that define the 1980′s for Rob, which turns out to be a good storytelling tool. Everyone has a couple songs that don’t really mean what they’re supposed to mean. Maybe Ben Folds had a hell of a lot going through his brain, but “Rockin’ the Suburbs” might as well be called “Summer, 1999″ as far as I’m concerned.

Sheffield takes you through his songs, his times, and the music is the driving force some of the time and takes the passenger seat at others.

A great way to see if you’ll like this book is to read the section named for Prince’s “Purple Rain.” It chronicles Rob’s summer as the ice cream man, a summer filled with teenage freedom and forever solidifies the impossibility of selling Bomb Pops. This is one of the strongest sections. Good, clear writing, humor, and just enough relatibility to keep things fun.

Something that makes Sheffield’s writing about music really work is that he’s not trying to convince you to like or dislike anything. This isn’t like talking to your buddy who will spend an hour trying to convince you that Ride the Lightning is the best Metallica album when it creeps up to maybe fifth on your list. This isn’t like talking to some goofball who tries to convince you that Beyonce is important somehow. This is a guy who likes what he likes, makes no apologies for it, and tells you what he likes about it. Much like the claim he makes about Duran Duran having mostly female fans and not really giving a damn, Sheffield will have people who disagree with him, but he’ll go right along doing his thing.

The weaker points come in when reading about songs you’ve never really hear of or don’t give two shits about. As the wave of 80′s nostalgia passes over us, you probably wouldn’t be surprised to read a little something about Flock of Seagulls, David Bowie, and Hall & Oates. But Paul McCartney, L’Trimm, and the group Haysie Fantayzee (which I’m not entirely convinced wasn’t a joke because the story was so perfectly 80′s pop) round out a number of groups. It’s really a nostalgic trip through the 80′s, but moreso if you actually lived through them. Not a lot of time is spent catching you up, and folks born after 1985 will be left behind children.

To be honest, it was a little bit like a driving through a foreign country. It went fast, I enjoyed it, but at times I was so busy trying to figure out where I was that I didn’t really get to enjoy the sights. To help you out I’ve included a track list of the main songs mentioned in the book, so if you want to spend a couple bucks or know someone with a decent library of80′s music you can really get a leg up on this one.

Talking to Girls About Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield. Check it out July 15th. Or, you know, after that.

Songs from the Book:

The Go-Go’s, “Our Lips Are Sealed”
David Bowie, “Ashes to Ashes”
Ray Parker Jr., “A Woman Needs Love”
The Rolling Stones, “She’s So Cold”
The Human League, “Love Action”
O.M.D., “Enola Gay”
Culture Club, “I’ll Tumble 4 Ya”
Hall & Oates, “Maneater”
Roxy Music, “More Than This”
Bonnie Taylor, “Total Eclipse of the Heart”
Haysi Fantayzee, “Shiny Shiny”
A Flock of Seagulls, “Space Age Love Song”
Chaka Khan, “I Feel For You”
Prince, “Purple Rain”
Paul McCartney, “No More Lonely Nights”
Madonna, “Crazy For You”
The Replacements, “Left Of The Dial”
The Smiths, “Ask”
The Psychedelic Furs, “Pretty In Pink”
Lita Ford, “Kiss Me Deadly”
Tone Loc, “Funky Cold Medina”
New Kids On The Block, “Hangin’ Tough”
Big Daddy Kane, “Ain’t No Half Steppin’”
L’Trimm, “Cars With Boom”
Duran Duran, “All She Wants Is”

Fencing the Sky by James Galvin

This is one of those perfect books that makes it difficult to pick up anything else afterwards.

Though it's a novel, this is a nice companion book to James Galvin's classic, the Meadow. You could almost think of it as part II as the time is closer to the present, and the end of the Meadow, at which point open land is being parceled and essentially destroyed, is the beginning of this book.

The book has an almsot Edward Abbey feel to it in terms of the changing landscape and different groups fighting over the same area. But where Abbey's concepts and ideas rise to the top, overpowering his writing style, James Galvin treats each word with the same care and warmth that he gives to his overarching theme.

Another great writer, Tom Spanbauer, says that every writer has to do three things with readers: "Teach them something, make them laugh, and break their hearts." This book will teach you about ranching and the American West, make you laugh your ass off with character descriptions and wild tales, and if it doesn't break your heart, your blood must be pumping through something harder than the granite under Wyoming's soil.

How Did You Get This Number by Sloane Crosley

This book of short personal essays started out about like Crosley's first, I Was Told There Would Be Cake. They weren't everything I would hope for from David Sedaris, but then what is?

The first couple essays were decent, peppered with funny moments, but they have a strong case of New-York-Itis, the disease that runs through books, the symptoms of which include referencing New York, talking about how New York is a strange and wonderful place, and attempting to describe the way in which New Yorkers are tough, savvy, or whatever (although to be fair, she does acknowledge that New Yorkers do revel in squalor at times, which was nice). I think this happens as so many publishers are in New York, and because so many writers work with publishers in some capacity before getting published, New York becomes the center of the book world. Having never been there, I hesitate to say much more about it, but I get that subways are crowded, cabs range from unpleasant to unholy, and when you concentrate a shitload of people in a tiny space you are bound to be constrained by different types of shit. However, Crosley handles most of it well, and she does some linguistic backflips that are worth a laugh on their own merit.

And the book really picks up. In "Light Pollution" Crosley describes a trip made to Alaska for a wedding, and though it's already funny, it takes a turn that brings it to a very human and very dark place. And the real gem, the final essay called "Off the Back of a Truck" is one of the better chronicles of the beginning and end of a relationship. She's smart, she makes a lot of wise statements, and people will be quoting pieces of this to crying friends over the phone for years to come. And the best part is that just when she's about to break your heart, she throws in a line that makes you laugh without destroying the tension. There's a balancing act there, and she pulls it off perfectly.

Read that last one first. I kid you not. If you like it, then read the rest.

The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein

There are a lot of other low-star reviews for this book from people who say they aren’t into dogs, and that seems a little unfair. You shouldn’t get more than a couple pages in before you realize this is a dog-centric book and accept it. I don’t really care about dogs, to be honest. I don’t spend a lot of time in Petsmart, nor do I raise fighting dogs with names like “Sagat,” “M.Bison” and “Chun Li.” My personal affection for dogs lies somewhere in between beating them in a warehouse and commenting on how much they’re like people, I guess. I don’t wish them any harm, but on the other hand I don’t have one in my house and think it’s funny to dress them in bumblebee costumes when the opportunity arises.

This book also has low reviews based on the fact that people don’t like car racing. In fact, I read one where the person was disappointed that the book wasn’t about running, like racing 5K’s and shit. Look, if you pick up a book and it’s about driving, don’t give it a bad review because you want it to be a about a footrace. I didn’t give a crappy review to Jane Eyre because I wanted it to be about hot babes who get drunk and head out to the clubs. I gave it a crappy review because I thought it sucked, but it sucked in its own right, not because it wasn’t an entirely different book.

Also, it’s unfair because the book isn’t disguising itself as something else. Look at the cover. A picture of a dog and the word “racing” are right there! And the first paragraph mentions both the fact that the narrator is a dog and that the best thing he’s ever seen is the 1993 Grand Prix, which he also points out is an automobile race.

If you read, say, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, you could be pissed off that it doesn’t contain nearly enough zombie action, or that the title is really the funniest part, or that it was way more Jane Austen than George Romero. That makes sense. You were led to believe the book was going to be one thing, but then it turned out to be another. But you wouldn’t go see Toy Story 3 and complain because you didn’t think there was enough full-frontal nudity. Nothing led you to expect it, and if you’re looking for nudity you are in the completely wrong movie, which is your own fault. The Art of Racing in the Rain is honest and upfront about what it is, so readers are not in for a surprise.

The whole point of that was to tell you this: I read the entire book mostly out of book club obligation, but I want to review it knowing that I’m not someone who should be reading it in the first place. So keeping in mind that I don’t care about race cars, dogs, dogs being run over by race cars or giant dogs eating race cars, here we go: The good thing about this book is that it clips along. The plot moves fast, and the pacing works well with the story and the doggy perspective. You can read it in a day, which I consider a plus. Screw War and Peace. Get an editor. The racing parts were interesting even as someone who didn’t go in with any knowledge or passion for racing. They aren’t overwhelming, and you learn a little something about it without getting so in-depth that it distracts from the story as a whole. Hell, I’ve never been in a fistfight, but that doesn’t disqualify me from reading Fight Club.

Okay, here’s the bad part: Way too much time convincing me that the dog really could tell this story. The dog knows things that dogs shouldn’t really know. For example, in the opening of a chapter the dog explains that Seattle had a long winter and high-pollen spring, which means that pharmaceutical companies must be doing gangbusters. Why a dog would care about that is beyond me, but I also don’t really care how he found out. In other words, if I can accept Why, I can accept How. The author goes to some stretchy lengths to make me believe that a dog can tell this story, but he should just assume that once I get past page 10 I’m on board, and at that point he should let it go. It’s a lesson that could be learned from great comic books. Take Spider-Man, for example. Spider-Man comics spend a lot of time showing him do spider stuff, but the good ones don’t waste a lot of time explaining How he does it. The movie showed a half-second clip of little spines coming out of his finger, and then we knew he could climb stuff. End of story. He didn’t have to keep reminding us or explain that they spines go through his gloves or whatever. We don’t really care about that, so let’s get on with the story. For Art of Racing in the Rain, I felt like the author didn’t believe that people would buy in to his concept, which is fair because it’s far-fetched (dog pun alert), but he should have just done a Ripley and dropped it, letting the reader decide to Believe it or Not.

Overall, as a guy who doesn’t give a damn about any of the surface contents, the book was pretty good. It moved along, kept me interested, and the ending was completely satisfying. If you’re a dog person, this is a good one to check out. Stein nails some dog behaviors, and he gives some speculative perspective on some of the stranger things dogs do, like tearing up stuffed animals or killing woodland creatures. Give it a shot, read a chapter. It’ll take 5 minutes, and then you can decide from there.

The Suicide Collectors by David Oppegaard

This was another book read for genre-expanding.

The basics of the plot: There's this great sadness, almost like a disease, spreading over the world and causing people to commit suicide. A lot of people. Like 90% of the world. Of course, there are some survivors, and they make a pilgrimage of sorts.

The story clips along, and it's like reading a good zombie book or post-apocalypse story. What's nice and different is that the author doesn't make every person into a complete asshole, which is unusual for the genre. It's more realistic in that sense. It kind of sucks that one of the best books of all time, the Road, fits into this genre and all others will be compared to it. Because let's face it, that book is fantastic and pretty tough to match up with.

There were three essential things about the Suicide Collectors that bothered me:

1. There's a female character who is 11, but she seems awfully mature for 11. I guess that might happen if you saw people killing themselves all damn day, but why not just make her 14?

2. The ending is a little unsatisfying. However, there is an ending, so props for that. 3. This is kind of a personal pet peeve, but there are two fairly long dream sequences, or what you might call dream sequences. I just have no patience for that in fiction. It's a made up story, so what is the point of a mde-up story inside of a made-up story? Also, in literature, dreams almost always have some deeper significance, but it's sort of a cheat because that significance should come in the story, not within a dream within the story. It feels like taking a shortcut that I can't really abide by. Again, personal pet peeve, so if that stuff doesn't bother you, you'll be fine.

Was She Pretty? by Leanne Shapton

What a loaded question. If there's one thing to take away from this book, it's that you should never ask this one. Was she pretty? Of course she was.

The book is a series of very short bios, usually one or two sentences about an ex. For example, "Katya's boyfriend never stopped sending her postcards" or "Isaac would not let Rebecca answer the telephone in his apartment." Mini stories on one side of the page, sketches on the other.

I can't decide if this would be a great book or a depressing book to read right after a break up. Maybe both. And maybe that's why the detatched sweetness of the book is so effective.

It leads me to think of several questions that you should never ask someone you are dating.

1. Was your last girlfriend pretty?
Well, there are only two real answers to that. Yes, which I would hope because don't we at least try to date people who are attractive? And No, which means that I don't date attractive people, which says something not nice about you. Either answer is not helping anyone feel better.

2. Where did you get that picture/blanket/keychain/shirt and so on?

Are you asking because you want to get the same one? No? Then let's not ask because I like this picture/blanket/keychain/shirt and so on, so don't make me get rid of it and be unhappy or fight to keep it and be unhappy.

3. Was it like this before...at...you know?
This is the lady equivalent of, "Was he bigger or smaller downstairs?" Again, neither answer is really satisfying. Besides, don't ask me to compare past, 18 year-old sex, which came at a time when boners were more common than old gum mashed on the sidewalk, to current. That's not fair to anyone, especially my peep.

Maybe we should just stick to statements.

The Boy Who Couldn't Sleep and Never Had to by DC Pierson

First off, I challenge anyone to actually remember that title with complete accuracy in two hours. The Boy Who Never Slept and Couldn't Want...No, The Boy Who Didn't Want to Sleep and Had to...Shit! But to be honest, I think the title works because it does tell you just a little something about the book. Plus, it beats the shit out of the other book I have checked out: Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty: Poems. What the fuck does that even mean? I like poems as much, actually more than the next man, but it makes it an awfully hard pursuit to defend when you do something insane like that.

This was also an early review copy, like the Rob Sheffield book. Unfortunately I got it about, hmmm, eight months after the book was released. So the bloom was off the rose as they say, and the rose was crushed into a million shards that were used to compare smells with old lady perfumes they were selling at Walgreens. They don't usually say that last part, but it's implied.

This book follows two kids. Nerd kids. And something this book does well is write nerds who are nerds. They aren't hot nerds who take their glasses off and turn into hot babes like Zach Ephron, Taylor Lautner, or...some chick with brown hair. The main character has the self-described "worst torso for miles." At the same time, in realistic nerd fashion, these nerds are not happy that they aren't popular, but they don't pursue popularity with a vengeance either. The book isn't about that aspect of nerdidity, which is fantastic because we've all read/watched nerds turn into not nerds, get a hot girl, find out that being nerdy is actually really great, or learn some other life lesson that is easily won and wholly untrue. Because, and I speak with experience here, no matter how many Tommy Hilfiger shirts you buy, the back they are draped over is still concave, pale, and covered in acne.

The book also narrowly avoids the classic plotline wherein Nerd A starts getting popular, leaves Nerd B, and then we have conflict. At one point it looks like that's where it's headed, but don't worry. It goes somewhere else quickly.

Ultimately, the book is written from the perspective of a nerd, but what makes him an interesting an readable character is that he in an unapologetic nerd. He doesn't waste a lot of time explaining the broad strokes of Star Wars and Tolkein and the design of mechs. He gives you enough to hold onto if need be, but the book really feels like it's written for people who have been there, and it's this appeal that really pull the book together. If you like teen comedy, maybe especially ones that are just a little different and throw in a little sci-fi, this one beats the shit out of the next Judd Apatow movie, whatever the hell that ends up being.

Born Standing Up by Steve Martin

Hmm...even as a big fan of stand-up, this book wasn't all that interesting. And if you aren't into stand-up, interested in the way acts are created, copied, and pushed further, forget it.

Martin can write. That's probably a dumb thing to say. What I mean is that he's written a handful of decent books and tons of comedy. But this book, with the exception of the last 20 pages, reads like a long list of jokes, venues, and anecdotes that had all the makings of being incredible, but the pace of the book is so fast that there's no time to enjoy anything.

He really hits a personal, emotional core in the last 20 pages when he talks about the difficulty of fame and the resolution he find with his father. Despite the rest of the book not doing much for me, the last 20 were still effective and emotional. But the work it takes to get there just isn't worth it, and it's ultimately disappointing because it gives you just a little taste of how great the book could have been.

A Common Pornography by Kevin Sampsell

Well, it has ups and downs.

The book is written in short vignettes, which works well for me. It's an interesting way to write autobiography because it allows you to focus on only the parts that are interesting or engaging. But I started feeling like the book fell in a trap where the vignettes seemed a little too disconnected, and they start to have little meaning to the reader though it's clear that they are significant to the writer. Especially the parts about girls. I coudn't keep them straight, nor did I really care to. I don't keep in touch with most of my exes, so why would I want to add someone else's to my life?

The book was mostly about the author's twenties, it seemed like, which is a pretty boring part of someone's life. And that's coming from someone in his twenties. I have some shit I could write about, some girlfriend issues and so on, but I don't think it's that interesting. If you recorded yourself talking to a girl you were interested in every year in your twenties and then listened to the tapes on your birthday, you'd be depressed as hell.

I guess, ultimately, I felt like these were important events in the life of the author, but he didn't really take us to a place where I felt like I knew him. He's like the older kid in high school who you know all about but never hung out with.

Things We Didn't See Coming by Steve Amsterdam

It's a lighter post(sort of)-apocalypse.

There are some interesting elements to the book, for sure. The style of having a series of short stories that take us through the narrator's life allow us to see the re-crumbled society, some of the middle, and then the end. There are some really good scenes in here, but if you're looking for a sort of action-packed apocalypse/survival thing, this isn't your best bet.


The book went into a bit of a romance thing that didn't really do a whole lot for me towards the middle. That's me, I guess. It's an interesting idea to consider that people will still be in love and whatnot during the apocalypse, but the somewhat detached voice, which makes sense as that's the character's survival tactic, doesn't mesh all that well with the romantic portions for me. And why would you bother with writing a 3-way scene in the middle of the earth's slow decline? Okay, if fire is raining down and horsemen are getting shit done, I get that. Act of passion before the final end. Why the hell not? But when we're just sort of slowly sinking into oblivion there's no real reason for it. I can speak on that with personal authority.

Ultimately, it's not bad and pretty short at 199 pages, which is a plus in my book. If you are reading, at least get up through the story with the main chaacter's horse running away. If you're not feeling it after that, I say put it down.

Tell-All by Chuck Palahniuk

Okay, not my favorite Chuck Palahniuk book.

I'm a pretty big fan, read ALL of his books and have seen him speak twice, which is a blast if you ever get the chance.

Like always, he delivers in terms of a quick read, some social commentary, and a little bit of humor thrown in the mix (see: anything attributed to Walter Winchell in this book). That said, the story is so-so.

The book really hits its stride about a hundred pages in, which is over halfway. If you're going to read this book, here are some things that might help you enjoy it more:

1. Feel free to completey ignore anything in boldface. These will be brand names and names of celebrities. Chuck Palahniuk does this sort of thing in books, for example, the inclusion of esoteric medical terms in Choke, to slow readers down and make them pay attention to what's going on. So, don't get caught up in the names is all I'm saying, don't let that ruin it for you the way it seems to for so many others. Take the boldface as a sign saying, "You do not need to remember this person."

2. Accept that this is not Fight Club. Everybody wants Chuck Palahniuk to rewrite Fight Club. Say what you will about his use of forumla, but Palahniuk is a writer who is constantly trying new things, sometimes with great success (for example, in the much-underrated Rant) and sometimes with less success. But if you love Fight Club for its testosterone, snappy angry youth one-liners, or ready-for-the-screen action, look to another book.

3. A book being short does not mean that you are being ripped off. His books tend to be short, faster reads. I like that. I don't see this as a laziness on the author's part or a disadvantage. He is a rabid revisionist, and edits each line over and over rather than stuffing a book with crap.

His last couple of books haven't been my favorite, but the amount of work that goes into them is evident and appreciated.

Chasing the White Dog by Max Watman

Number one, if you're looking for a primer on making booze, look somewhere else.

Okay, now that the drunken DIY'ers are out of the way we can get down to business.

Dog is overall a decent book. It has some definite ups, and Max Watman must be a talented writer as some of the most interesting chapters had to do with Nascar's origins in bootlegging and I have ZERO interest in Nascar. That said, the book doesn't have a very strong focus. There is some history, some rubbing elbows with modern-day legit disitllers, and the whole things ends with a drawn-out trial piece.

My personal opinion: Read the modern-day stuff, read about Max's attempts at moonshining, read about the Nascar parts and Junior Johnson. The rest is, well, mash.

Also, real nice of him to list some great whiskeys and talk about distilleries, but nothing that's even remotely on the cheap side. I'm not saying that you have to stick to bumwines.com, but 70 bucks for a bottle is pushing both my problem areas: cashflow and sobriety.

Pop. 1280 by Jim Thompson

Well, there are a couple different things I've read about this book.

1. Reviews along the lines of "Nobody writes through the mind of a sick bastard like Jim Thompson."

2. Reviews that say something about a dopey small-town sherriff who bumbles his way through things.

I think I was expecting something like a Confederacy of Dunces by Cormac McCarthy. But I was a little disappointed. If you're thinking about reading this book, give it until at least page 57. That's where the real tone of the book begins. The author takes you for a little bit of a ride, but that's about where you get on solid ground.

Overall, the book set up an expectation that it didn't maintain throughout. The plot twists around quite a bit, but the twists were more quirky than dark or engaging.

The main thing people seem to be saying about this author is that he is a master of black humor, which I didn't find to be true in this book. And that's not because I don't find murder and whatnot funny. Murder can be hilarious. Have you ever see a clown murder someone, or a sped-up video clip of someone being murdered to the Benny Hill theme? Good stuff. But the murder in this book is mostly part of a plan to bang a couple different ladies. It's more like a hillbilly Three's Company than anything else, climbing out the window to bang some other lady and shit like that.

You're a Horrible Person But I Like You, the Believer Book of Advice

Dear Pete,

I'm thinking of reading this book, but I'm not sure if it's a good use of my time. Also, I have foot pain. What should I do?

-Foot Pain in Brisbane

Dear Foot Pain,

Let's start with the book.

The concept of this book is hilarious and maybe undersold. The idea is that people write in with their Dear-Abby-Esque questions and then receive advice. BUT that advice comes from a linup of comedians and comedy writers, probably the worst people to ask.

Because there are something like 30 different writers, the entries are pretty uneven. Some of the best include Amy Sedaris, Jim Gaffigan, and Marc Maron, who gives a piece of advice to a lady about talking dirty that is just about the funniest one-liner this side of...I don't know, Wayne's World II?

There's not much reason to get too specific about who was shitty, but the more meta the writers got, the less entertaining. A lof of them used the string of letters to create a second-layer comedy scenario, and that generally didn't work for me.

My advice would be to read it for free in the bookstore while nursing a chai so long that there's a milk skin on top.

As far as the foot pain goes, I would say that you should probably stop sleeping around, maybe then your foot wouldn't hurt so bad. Or maybe it wouldn't make any difference. But either way, stopping sleeping around is probably a good choice.

Best,
Pete