Your Trusted Advisor.  "Wise men don't need advice; Fools won't take it" -Benjamin Franklin

Dear Uncle Gary,    I’ve been dating my boyfriend (28M) for about a year. Things have mostly been good; we work out together, take little trips, and I’ve tried to be the supportive, non-controlling girlfriend, especially since he told me his ex was the opposite. Lately, he’s been spending more time at the gym, which I didn’t think much of. But a few days ago, while I was using his phone for music, I saw a message from his gym buddy. When I asked about it, he grabbed the phone, said “just gym stuff,” and deleted the chat. I didn’t accuse him of anything, but I did ask later why he deleted it. He said I was overreacting and always assume the worst. That stung, because I wasn’t trying to start a fight, I just wanted honesty. Now I’m stuck. I want to trust him, but something feels off. I know deleting messages doesn’t always mean cheating, but it’s weird, right? Especially when it’s the same guy he keeps talking about lately. Should I bring it up again or let it go and watch how things play out? Am I protecting my peace or just being naive? Signed, Naive? Dear “Naive?”, Let’s start here: your instincts aren’t paranoia, they’re information. You didn’t snoop. You didn’t accuse. You asked a calm, reasonable question and got a defensive, evasive answer. That’s not on you. Deleting messages isn’t a crime, but it’s a choice. And choices tell stories. If everything was truly “just gym stuff,” why the secrecy? Why the snap reaction? Why make you feel like the villain for noticing? Now, I’m not saying he’s cheating. I am saying he’s hiding something. And when someone makes you feel guilty for asking a fair question, that’s not love, it’s deflection. So what do you do? You don’t beg for honesty. You set the tone. You say: “I’m not here to police your phone. I’m here to build trust. But when you shut me down and delete things mid-conversation, it makes me question what we’re building. I need transparency, not gaslighting.” Then watch. Not just what he says, but how he acts. Does he lean in or shut down? Does he make space for your feelings or make you feel crazy for having them? Protecting your peace doesn’t mean ignoring red flags. It means honoring your gut and refusing to shrink yourself to keep someone else comfortable. You’re not naive. You’re awake. Stay that way. With clarity and zero shame, Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary,    My wife and I have a blended family with five kids. Before she passed, my late wife asked me to protect a portion of her medical settlement and savings for our son. I’ve honored that promise and continued saving for him separately. Now my current wife wants us to lay everything on the table, what each child has saved, and consider combining all funds to divide more evenly. I’m open to discussing what she and I have saved together, but I won’t include the money from my late wife. It’s not mine to redistribute. She says this makes her feel excluded and like I don’t trust her. I say it’s about honoring a promise and keeping boundaries. We’re stuck. What should I do? Signed, Stuck but Steady Dear Stuck but Steady, You’re not wrong to protect that promise. It’s sacred. Your late wife didn’t just leave money; she left intention, love, and a legacy for your son. That’s not a pool of funds to be stirred into a communal pot. It’s a sealed envelope marked “For Him.” But your current wife isn’t wrong to want transparency either. She’s trying to plan for five futures, not just one. And when she says she feels excluded, it’s not just about the money; it’s about trust, partnership, and whether you’re building something together or side-by-side. So here’s the move: Tell her you’re willing to lay out everything you and she have saved together. Be generous with clarity. But draw a firm, loving line around the money from your late wife. Not out of secrecy, but out of respect. You might say: “This isn’t about not trusting you. It’s about honoring a promise I made to someone who’s no longer here to speak for herself. I want us to plan together, but I can’t include something that was never meant to be shared.” Then pivot. Ask her what she needs to feel secure. Maybe it’s a clearer savings plan. Maybe it’s a reassurance that your younger children won’t be left behind. Maybe it’s just knowing you’re in this with her, not guarding a vault. You’re not stuck. You’re standing at a crossroads between legacy and partnership. The key is to protect one without sacrificing the other. With respect for both women in your life, Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, How do I tell this guy he gave me an STI?    We haven’t spoken in about a month. I ghosted him. Over the weekend, I got tested because I thought I had a yeast infection. Turns out, it’s chlamydia. He’s the only person I’ve been with, so I’m certain it came from him. Now I need to tell him, but I have no idea how to break the silence and say, “Hey, you need to get tested.” What’s the best way to do this without it turning into a fight or a guilt trip? Signed, Infected Dear Infected, First off, I’m proud of you for getting tested. That’s not just responsible—it’s courageous. Now, about telling him: this isn’t about blame or shame. It’s about health, clarity, and doing the right thing even when it’s awkward. Here’s how you can approach it: Keep it short, clear, and calm.  You don’t owe him a dramatic backstory or emotional unpacking. You owe him the facts. You might say something like: “Hey, I wanted to let you know I tested positive for chlamydia. You’re the only person I’ve been with, so I thought you should get checked too. Just wanted to make sure you knew.” That’s it. No accusations. No apologies. Just the truth. If texting feels easier than calling, that’s fine. If you’re worried about his reaction, remember: his feelings aren’t your responsibility. His health is. And yours matters too. You’re not the villain here—you’re the messenger. And a responsible one at that. With respect and zero judgment, Uncle Gary

Uncle Gary, My wife hit me with a question that stopped me mid-sip: “If women have the 6-6-6 checklist, six feet tall, six-figure income, six-pack abs, what’s the male equivalent?” In other words, do men have their own shorthand fantasy for the kind of woman they want to date, something equally superficial, equally viral, equally absurd? Signed, My Wife Wants To Know Dear, My wife wants to know, Oh, absolutely. Men have their own version of the 6-6-6 fantasy; it’s just not as neatly packaged, because let’s face it, most guys aren’t great at branding their delusions. If the female version is height, money, and abs, then the male equivalent is something like: “Hot, horny, and doesn’t hate me.” That’s the shorthand. That’s the dream. Doesn’t matter if she’s a barista or a brain surgeon, if she’s attractive, sexually enthusiastic, and doesn’t treat him like a walking disappointment, he’s halfway to proposing. Now, if you want to get a little more polished, we could say men tend to look for: Physical beauty, often defined by youth and symmetry because evolution is a shallow bastard. Emotional warmth, or at least the illusion that she finds him charming. Low drama. Which really means: “Please don’t make me talk about my feelings unless I’m drunk or dying.” But we could cut through all that and say: “Men want a woman who looks like a porn star, cooks like their mother, and never asks them to go to therapy. That’s the trifecta. That’s the fantasy. And it’s just as ridiculous as the 6-foot, 6-figure, 6-pack nonsense.” So yeah, men have their own viral absurdity. It’s just less Instagrammable and more whispered between beers and bad decisions.

The Premise Let’s start with a truth that’s not universal, but it’s gaining traction: In 2025, financial and social success often correlate with being “aesthetically fluid.” It’s not a law of nature, but it is a cultural undercurrent. And it’s worth unpacking. Aesthetic fluidity isn’t just about fashion. It’s about adaptability. Authenticity. The ability to define your own identity while navigating environments that still judge you by how you show up. What Is Aesthetic Fluidity? It’s the art of pulling off multiple looks and styles with ease. Knowing when to lean into polish, when to embrace grit, and when to mix the two. It’s not about being trendy, it’s about being intentional. Yes, it’s subjective. But in a world where first impressions still shape opportunity, aesthetic fluidity becomes a kind of social currency. The Judgment Game Humans judge. Quickly. Harshly. It’s evolutionary; snap decisions kept us alive. Still do, sometimes. But in modern life, those judgments often miss the mark. I wish we lived in a world where people didn’t size you up by your shoes, your grooming, your posture. But we don’t. The people who’ve evolved past that? They’re out there. They’re compassionate, curious, less concerned with surface. But let’s be honest: they’re not always the ones signing your paycheck. So in the workplace, you adapt, or you suffer. That’s not defeatist. That’s strategic. Learning the Hard Way In my 20s, I couldn’t afford a therapist. But I could afford a library card. I read every self-help book I could find. It helped me decode the new world I’d stepped into, one where appearance wasn’t everything, but it was often the first thing. Dress Codes and Power Signals On a construction site, you can often tell who’s doing what by how they’re dressed. Same goes for a law office. The person in the bespoke suit with impeccable grooming? They’re not just stylish. They’re signaling access, resources, and rank. That’s not shallow, it’s tribal. And if you want to move through different tribes, you learn the codes. Your Body Is Your Canvas Let’s get practical. Aesthetic fluidity starts with the body. Not six-pack abs. Not Botox. Just basic health. If you’re in your 20s, get a checkup. Go to the dentist. Once a year, maybe twice. You’re laying the foundation for your 40s and beyond. Trust me, what you neglect now will come back for revenge later. Get to the gym. Learn a sport. It’ll come in handy when your boss invites you to his place for the weekend. Keep your body strong. You don’t have to be Schwarzenegger. But you do have to be consistent. Clothes look better on a well-built body. And yes, you look better naked. Okay, now I sound like your Grandpa. But learn from my mistakes. Your body is your canvas. And how you look, how you carry yourself, affects how people respond to you. Pay attention to grooming. Hair, nails, skin—they’re not just “women’s stuff.” If you look unkempt, you’re not aesthetically fluid. And that’s the goal here. The Takeaway Aesthetic fluidity isn’t about being a chameleon. It’s about being fluent. Fluent in your own identity. Fluent in the environments you move through. It’s not selling out—it’s showing up. And when you show up with intention, health, and style that fits the moment? You’re not just playing the game. You’re rewriting it.

I came across a line that stopped me cold: “You can silence fifty scholars with one fact, but you can’t silence one fool with fifty facts.”   - This quote’s authorship is uncertain. It captures the tragedy of our time perfectly. Because when critical thinking dies, collective foolishness fills the void. Everyone becomes an expert. Everyone is convinced they’re right, and everyone else, naturally, is wrong. Opinions drown out logic, emotions overrun evidence, and noise masquerades as knowledge. But why is this happening? Why does critical thinking feel endangered in an age that prides itself on information and intelligence? Where It All Began Where It All Began To understand why critical thought is fading, we first need to remember where it began. Critical thinking isn’t simply “thinking hard.” It’s the disciplined act of questioning assumptions, examining evidence, and applying reason before belief. It’s the art of not being fooled by others or by your own mind. Its story begins in ancient Greece with Socrates, the original troublemaker of thought. His method was simple: ask sharp questions until falsehoods collapsed under their own weight. He reminded the world of a profound truth: “The only thing I know is that I know nothing.”  That humility, that willingness to admit ignorance before seeking clarity, became the foundation of all rational inquiry. But humility has never been fashionable. In 399 BCE, Socrates was condemned to death for “corrupting the youth” and “disrespecting the gods.” His crime was thinking too freely. Yet his disciples, Plato, Aristotle, and those who followed, carried forward the torch of reason, shaping centuries of philosophy and science. During the Enlightenment, thinkers like Immanuel Kant reignited that flame, urging humanity to “dare to think for yourself.” Voltaire and others challenged superstition and tyranny, proclaiming that reason, not dogma, should guide human progress. For centuries, critical thinking has stood as the hallmark of education, democracy, and innovation. Of course, not everyone agreed. Nietzsche warned that the obsession with logic could drain life of passion. But even in critique, the idea endured: that freedom begins with the courage to ask why. The Age of Information, the Death of Reflection Fast forward to today. We live in a world where every answer is one click away. It feels empowering until you realize how it’s changing us. We are drowning in data, yet starving for depth. Psychologists call it information overload : the flood of input that overwhelms our ability to reflect. Our brains were never built for this torrent of trivia. So, we adapt by taking shortcuts. Ask someone to add 56 and 87, and most will reach for their phone. The more we outsource our mental effort, the less we practice it. Nobel laureate Daniel Kahneman described two systems of thought: System 1  is fast, instinctive, and emotional. System 2  is slow, deliberate, and rational. The home of critical thinking. But when algorithms, calculators, and AI handle the heavy lifting, System 2 goes unused. Like a neglected muscle, it weakens. We no longer remember the answer, only where to find it. Researchers call this the Google Effect. Our relationship with knowledge has become transactional. We skim headlines instead of reading articles, react instead of reason, and consume instead of contemplate. The Socratic habit of questioning, asking “why” and “how” until something makes sense, has been replaced by “search and scroll.” We have gained convenience but lost comprehension. Echo Chambers and the Comfort of Certainty If information overload dulls the mind, echo chambers numb it. Technology has amplified our tribal instincts. Algorithms now curate our realities, feeding us content that mirrors our beliefs. The result is an endless hall of mirrors, which psychologists call confirmation bias. We see what we already agree with, hear what we already believe, and grow increasingly certain that we, and our group, are right. Over time, the mind loses its appetite for challenge. Instead of asking “Could I be wrong?” we start saying “This is what we believe.” Even skeptics aren’t immune. Atheists, rationalists, environmentalists, conservatives, progressives, every tribe has its echo. And when loyalty to the tribe becomes stronger than loyalty to truth, thought itself becomes political. Dialogue gives way to dogma. Doubt becomes betrayal. The Socratic spirit, the courage to ask uncomfortable questions, quietly disappears. The Business of Outrage The Business of Outrage And then there’s the media. The accelerant in this cultural bonfire. Outrage is profitable. Fear and fury drive clicks, and clicks drive revenue. Every headline is designed to provoke, not to inform. Everything is a crisis, a record high, a historic low. The constant adrenaline leaves us exhausted and suspicious. Even creators with good intentions face a dilemma: dramatize or be ignored. The result is an economy of exaggeration, where moderation dies in obscurity. When every issue feels urgent, reason feels irrelevant. We scroll past nuance because it’s too quiet to compete. Calm analysis has become an endangered species. The tragedy isn’t that people are uninformed, it’s that they are misinformed but confident. Rebuilding the Muscle of Reason So how do we bring critical thinking back from the brink? Cultivate curiosity. Einstein once said, “I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.” Curiosity is the engine of wisdom. Ask “why” one more time than feels necessary. When you hear a claim, look for the evidence. Play devil’s advocate with your own beliefs. Slow down. Reflection takes time, and time is the one thing the digital world discourages. Read the full story. Check the source. Sit with the complexity. Meditation, journaling, and focused reading can retrain the brain to think in full sentences again. Step outside your echo. Follow people who challenge you. Read publications from opposing perspectives. Not to argue, but to understand. The goal isn’t comfort; it’s clarity. Teach and model it. Critical thinking isn’t taught once; it’s cultivated daily. Educators should prioritize inquiry over memorization. Leaders should show their reasoning, not just their conclusions. Admitting uncertainty isn’t weakness; it’s integrity. The Courage to Question Critical thinking will never trend. It doesn’t fit into 280 characters. It’s quiet, unglamorous work, the daily discipline of refusing to be fooled. But it’s also freedom. The freedom to think for yourself, to question what you’re told, and to keep your mind your own. Socrates paid for that freedom with his life. The least we can do is not waste our lives living an unexamined life. Because, as he reminded us over two millennia ago: “The unexamined life is not worth living.” ✍️ Author’s Note: A Thought from Uncle Gary Sometimes I wonder if we’re not suffering from a lack of intelligence, but a lack of stillness.  We’ve confused information for wisdom, scrolling for insight, and reaction for reflection. Critical thinking isn’t about being right; it’s about being awake. And the world could use a few more awake minds right now. — Gary Domasin

Hey Uncle Gary, Quick question that’s been weighing on me.    I work at a retail shop in Downtown LA, and yesterday I heard ICE might be in the area. I don’t own the store, and I’m not involved in hiring, so I don’t know anyone’s legal status, and honestly, that’s not my business. But I care about my coworkers, and I’m trying to figure out what I’d do if ICE agents came in and started harassing people. Part of me wants to refuse service or ask them to leave, but I also know that could escalate things. What are my rights in that situation? What’s the smartest, safest way to respond if they try to detain someone? I’d love to hear how others have handled this, or what they wish they’d done differently. Signed, We The People To We The People, I’m not a lawyer, and I can’t speak to the specifics of what’s legal from city to city across Los Angeles County. Immigration enforcement is a complex and sensitive issue, and the rules around what ICE can and can’t do, especially in private businesses, can vary depending on jurisdiction, ownership, and local ordinances. That said, my strongest recommendation is to speak with a legal professional who specializes in immigration or civil rights law. They’ll be able to give you accurate, location-specific guidance on what your rights are, what your responsibilities might be, and how best to protect yourself and others without escalating the situation. In the meantime, it’s worth checking public platforms like Reddit, especially threads focused on LA workers, immigration law, or community organizing. You’ll find real stories, practical advice, and solidarity from people who’ve faced similar situations. Just remember: online advice isn’t a substitute for legal counsel, but it can help you feel less alone and more prepared. Emotionally, the most important thing is to stay calm. No violence, no escalation. If ICE does enter your workplace, your priority is safety, for yourself and those around you. Document what you can, avoid confrontation, and seek support immediately. There are organizations in LA that offer rapid response and legal aid in these situations. You’re asking the right questions. Keep asking. Keep listening. And keep showing up for your coworkers with clarity and care. Concerned American, Uncle Gary

Hey Uncle Gary, So I went on this date. It was fun, he picked the spot, we had great convo, dinner was amazing. Afterward, we played pool at a bar around the corner, and he walked me back to my apartment. I kissed him goodnight. It felt sweet, like maybe the start of something. I was hoping I’d hear from him the next day… maybe a “had a great time, let’s do it again.” Instead? Boom. A Venmo request. Half the bill. I was honestly shocked. I always thought if a guy asks you out, he pays. Isn’t that just basic manners? Or am I being totally old-school? I live in the big city, dating’s already chaotic, and now I’m splitting the check like it’s a networking lunch? Help me out, am I wrong for expecting him to cover it? Signed, Venmo Queen Dear Venmo Queen, Oh girl. You gave him a kiss and he gave you an invoice? That’s not a date, that’s a dinner receipt with a side of pool. Let’s start here: you’re not wrong for feeling thrown. There’s a rhythm to dating, and while the “who pays” debate has evolved, the first date still carries a kind of social choreography. If he picked the spot, initiated the plan, and walked you home, it’s fair to expect he’d pick up the tab, or at least not turn the next morning into a transaction. Now, does that make you old-school? Maybe. But old-school isn’t the same as outdated. It’s about intention. You weren’t expecting champagne and caviar; you were hoping for connection. And instead of a follow-up text, you got a bill. That’s what stings, not the money, but the message. Here’s the bigger truth: dating in the city is  chaotic. Everyone’s juggling apps, expectations, and emotional bandwidth. But manners still matter. Generosity still matters. And if someone’s idea of romance includes a Venmo request before breakfast, you’re allowed to say, “No thanks.” You’re not wrong for wanting a little grace. You’re not wrong for hoping a sweet night might lead to something more. And you’re definitely not wrong for expecting a date to feel like a date, not a Dutch treat with a digital receipt. Keep your crown, Queen. And next time, maybe ask: “Are you looking for connection, or just someone to split the bill?” But to keep this a clean date. Pay & Block. Uncle Gary

by Gary Domasin After reading Michael Slepian’s work on the psychology of secrecy, I’m left thinking less about the secrets themselves and more about the quiet damage they inflict. His book, The Secret Life of Secrets , doesn’t just catalog the kinds of things people hide-it explores what happens when we carry those hidden truths alone, and how that burden can quietly erode our health, happiness, and sense of connection. Slepian’s research is staggering in scope: 50,000 people surveyed, hundreds of studies, and a decade spent mapping the emotional terrain of secrecy. What emerges is a clear pattern: people who keep more secrets tend to feel worse physically and emotionally. Their relationships suffer. Their joy dims. And often, it’s not the act of hiding that hurts most—it’s the mental weight of living with the secret day after day. One of the most striking ideas is that secrecy isn’t just about protecting others from the truth. It’s often about protecting our own self-image. We see ourselves as moral, decent people. When we act against that image, say, through infidelity or deception, we bury the evidence. But the shame doesn’t stay buried. It festers. Slepian notes that the more immoral we judge our secret to be, the more shame it evokes. And shame, unlike guilt, doesn’t push us to make amends; it isolates us. The data on infidelity is especially revealing. One in three people admitted to cheating, and among them, responses varied: some vowed to never tell, some confided in a third party, and some came clean to their partner. Interestingly, when Slepian asked people in committed relationships whether they’d want to know about a one-time betrayal, three-fourths said yes. That’s a sobering reminder that while we fear disclosure, many people value honesty, even when it hurts. But Slepian doesn’t advocate confession for confession’s sake. His advice is more nuanced: if a secret is harming your well-being, talk it through with someone you trust. Not necessarily the person you wronged, but someone who can offer compassion, perspective, and maybe a nudge toward resolution. The goal isn’t just to unburden-it’s to understand. He also explores the strange ways we punish ourselves for secrets we feel we got away with. People deny themselves pleasure, take on unpleasant tasks, or ruminate endlessly. It’s a kind of self-imposed penance, but it doesn’t resolve the underlying tension. As long as the secret remains, so does the sense of escaping justice, and the cycle of self-punishment continues. What I found most moving was Slepian’s personal story. For 26 years, his parents kept secret the fact that he and his brother were conceived through donor insemination. Everyone else in the family knew. When the truth finally came out, it reshaped his understanding of secrecy, not just as a researcher, but as a son. “We may not want our secrets to be known,” he writes, “but we do want ourselves to be known.” That line lingers. Ultimately, the book isn’t a call to bare all. It’s a call to discernment, to self-compassion, and to connection. Some secrets are harmless. Others are corrosive. The challenge is knowing which is which, and having the courage to speak when silence is doing us harm. “If any sort of secret is affecting your well-being, I would advise you to at least talk it through with someone you trust,” says Michael Slepian. Michael Slepian is the author of the new book The Secret Life of Secrets  and an associate professor of leadership and ethics at Columbia Business School.

Dear Uncle Gary, I teach English at our community college, and once a month our department holds a meeting where we share updates, lesson ideas, student wins, and classroom challenges. It’s about 17 of us, including our department chair, Marisol, and the rest of the faculty. There’s a tradition at these meetings where we also share a few personal photos, something from our lives outside of school. Most people show vacation pics, family moments, hiking trails, or quirky hobbies. It’s a nice way to connect, and I genuinely enjoy seeing what everyone’s up to. Here’s my dilemma: the hobby I spend most of my time on is one I’m proud of, but I’m not sure how it would land in a semi-casual work setting. I’ve been training in pole dancing for the past couple of years. It’s physically demanding, creatively fulfilling, and honestly, it’s the best workout I’ve ever found. I’ve even started performing in amateur showcases. It’s not risqué or provocative in the way people sometimes assume—it’s athletic, artistic, and empowering. But I’m a male teacher, and I know that comes with certain optics. I’m not sure how my colleagues or Marisol would react to photos of me mid-invert or doing a shoulder mount. Some would probably find it fascinating or even inspiring, but others might feel uncomfortable or just not know what to make of it. So here’s my question: is it appropriate to include this hobby in a work presentation that’s meant to be personal but still professional? Or should I stick to something safer, like a picture of my dog or a weekend hike? Signed, Pole Fitness Dancer Dear Pole Fitness Dancer, Well, aren’t you just the Cirque du Soleil of tenure track. I love it. You’re out here defying gravity while the rest of us are just trying to defy the urge to grade papers in bed. Now let’s talk shop. You’re asking whether it’s appropriate to share photos of your pole dancing hobby in a work meeting. And I say: it depends. Not on the pole, although I do hope it’s securely fastened, but on the context, the tone, and the delivery. You’re not talking about anything salacious. You’re talking about strength, artistry, and discipline. You’re talking about a sport that demands core control, spatial awareness, and a willingness to hang upside down like a chandelier with abs. That’s not scandalous, that’s impressive. But here’s the rub (and no, not that kind): some folks still hear “pole dancing” and picture a smoky club and a soundtrack by Def Leppard. You know it, I know it, and Marisol probably knows it too. So if you do decide to share, frame it. Give it context. Lead with the athleticism, the creativity, the personal growth. Maybe skip the thigh-highs and go with a photo that highlights the movement, not the mystique. And if you’re still unsure? Test the waters. Mention it casually in conversation with a colleague you trust. Gauge the reaction. You don’t have to go full shoulder mount in the slideshow, maybe just a glimpse of the studio, the rig, the training. Let them see the dedication before the dazzle. Because here’s the truth, authenticity builds trust. And when you show up as your full self, graceful, grounded, and maybe a little upside-down, you give others permission to do the same. So whether it’s your dog, your hike, or your gravity-defying hobby, share what makes you proud. Just make sure the pole isn’t the only thing with a strong foundation. Yours in strength and sass, Uncle Gary

Empathy you can trust. Honesty you can feel. Got a question, a dilemma, or just need some straight talk? Whether you’re perched in a New York brownstone, a Paris apartment, a Cape Town bungalow, or a Pasadena backyard, Uncle Gary delivers advice that’s warm as toast, sharp as cheddar, and just salty enough to keep you thirsty for more. ​ Ask Uncle Gary  about life’s curveballs, messy breakups, career pivots, or simply learning how to say no without guilt. It’s not therapy. It’s not tough love. It’s something better: lived wisdom, delivered with heart. ​ At 65, Gary Domasin has lived more lives than most. Raised on Hollywood’s back lots in the 1960s, he danced on Broadway, rode the Beverly Hills fitness boom of the ’80s, and taught at some of New York’s most prestigious health clubs and dance schools. He trained celebrities like Tim Curry and Jennifer Aniston, then pivoted, earning a degree in hypnotherapy and psychology from HMI, America’s first nationally accredited college of hypnotherapy. ​ Never one to coast, Gary added a film and television makeup certificate from the Joe Blasco School of Makeup, followed by a Cosmetology Science degree from Pasadena City College. He’s worked on films, TV, and Broadway national tours, and now serves as a resident hairstylist at Salon Aguayo, Pasadena’s premier salon. He also teaches theatrical hair and stage makeup at USC’s School of Dramatic Arts. ​ Today, Gary writes for SoCal Magazine, where Ask Uncle Gary brings his signature blend of empathy, impertinence, and straight talk to readers who need a little clarity and a lot of heart. ​ Got something you want to Ask Uncle Gary ? Send your question to: AskUncleGary@hotmail.com or leave a message at 213-259-3889 .   I read every note and voicemail, but I can’t always respond right away, so thanks for your patience. I promise, if your question makes the cut, you’ll get the full Uncle Gary treatment: heart, humor, and no-nonsense wisdom.

Dear Uncle Gary, I’m the only one in my friend group who doesn’t want kids. They treat me like I’m missing something. Am I? Signed, Missing Something Dear Missing Something, Let me tell you something that might surprise you. Not wanting kids isn’t a flaw. It’s a choice. And it’s one that deserves just as much respect as choosing to have them. You’re not missing anything. You’re opting out of something, and that’s a very different thing. Choosing not to have children doesn’t mean you lack love, or depth, or purpose. It means you’ve looked at the menu of life and said, “I’ll pass on the parenting platter, thanks. I’m full on other things.” Now, your friends may mean well. They may genuinely believe that parenthood is the ultimate fulfillment. And for them, maybe it is. But fulfillment isn’t one-size-fits-all. Some people find it in raising children. Others find it in building careers, creating art, traveling the world, mentoring, loving deeply, sleeping in past 6 a.m., you get the idea. If they treat you like you’re missing something, it’s probably because they can’t imagine a life different from their own. That’s not judgment, it’s limitation. And it’s okay to gently remind them that your life isn’t a rehearsal for theirs. You don’t owe anyone a baby. You owe yourself a life that feels honest, intentional, and whole. If you’ve made that choice with clarity and conviction, then you’re not missing anything. You’re living on purpose. With love and a firm handshake. Uncle Gary