But my post last week about divorced comedian Steve Harvey’s book of so-called advice for single women, “Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man,” has raised a lot of issues about women, sex and dating that I’d really like to explore a bit further. If this is the sort of thing that makes you blush, well, I really don’t know what you’re doing on this blog in the first place, but you might want to wander on over to something a little more PG.

Anyhow. Several of the folks who commented on and emailed me about the post articulated my problem with Harvey and his philosophy better and more succinctly than I could.

Blogger/author Robin Monique kicks Harvey’s ass around the block and offers some of the soundest dating advice I’ve heard, well, ever:

When should I sleep with him? Answer: When you want to and not a moment before.

What if I sleep with him and then he stops calling? Your value is not determined by your vagina. He can’t see that? His loss. Keep it moving.

Don’t I lose my power when I sleep with a man? As long as you’ve got two feet and the good sense to leave a situation that’s not working for you, you always have power.

When should I let him go? When you find that you’re more often unhappy than happy in the relationship.

How do I avoid heartbreak? You can’t. It is a part of life. Trust that you’re strong enough to get through it.

See the pattern? Your greatest relationship is the one that you have with yourself (or your God if you’re religious/spiritual). Setting your relationship behaviors around arbitrary rules rather than your own natural tendencies will all but guarantee a lifetime of confusion, anger and heartbreak.

Meanwhile, commenter TheProblemWithCaring picks up on a largely unspoken racial dimension of Harvey’s argument that I completely missed (edited for length; read the original comment here):

It seems to me that Steve Harvey wrote this book to all the “good” single women of color out there, who seem to be lapping it up. From the church to beauty salon to the late night tearful debriefing sessions with sisters, mothers, aunts and friends on “What went wrong with Mr. Right;” the answer always is YOU GAVE UP THE COOCHIE TOO EARLY.

It’s never that the man is just emotionally unavailable, a misogynist with intimacy issues, a commitment-phobe, fucking your cousin, or just not that into you. It always comes down to When Did you Sleep with Him.

It would fly in the face of the paradigm for women of color to say “BUT HEY DIVORCED STEVE HARVEY. I AM A WOMAN, BUT I LIKE SEX TOO.” It’s easier for Oprah and others to accept it and try to claim power from their sub-status as women (i.e. Our pussies are magic! Men cannot resist!) instead of trying to assert real power. Personally, I think Black women could do a lot for themselves, their communities and the world if they stopped listening to little dicks like Steve Harvey and started telling Black men, Eat my pussy, fuck me right AND call me tomorrow, or fuck off and let me date your brother.

There were also a few critical comments (though not many, leading me to believe I have a very naughty readership) that made the reasonable point that in a situation where a woman is looking for a long-term relationship and a man is just looking for sex then, yeah, by having sex the woman does give up a lot of leverage.

But, if you’re looking for a ring or just a long-term serious relationship, then dating a man who is very openly NOT looking for those things is a losing proposition from the start. Far too many women—the Carrie Bradshaws of the world, let’s say—drive themselves to distraction trying to get men who aren’t interested in commitment to commit. It defies reason. If you’re looking for a Volvo, don’t go to the Ferrari dealership, okay?

But—and I think this might come as a surprise to Mr. Harvey—it works the other way too. Not every woman in the dating pool has back issues of Modern Bride stashed away in her closet. You might need to sit down for this, Steve, but here’s the truth: Not every woman you date wants to marry you. We are not even close to that into you. Seriously.

If you have a mother like mine, you’re familiar with the maxim that no man is going to buy the cow when he’s getting the milk for free. But here’s a thought: The cow is not for sale.

Ponder that.

But now there’s a new step. In addition to the tears, the drama, the fights over furniture and real estate, there’s the Social Media Separation. It’s hard to end a relationship quietly or privately when the entire saga is played out in news feed updates and little broken-heart icons on Facebook. It’s the electronic equivalent of standing up in front of everyone you know and shouting, “Hi. My relationship failed. Just thought you should know.” And then taking questions.

Of course, there’s often something to be said for public humiliation. Particularly for those tender souls who feel things like “shame” or “remorse,” a good calling-out can be a good way to administer punishment, modify behavior, or just stir up some resentment, if that’s what you’re after. But breakups are hard enough without the digital self-flagellation inherent in social networks.

Really, there is no moving on in the world of social media, or if there is, it isn’t easy. Are you supposed to un-friend your ex? If so, who goes first, the dump-er or the dump-ee? What about friends of theirs who you’ve friended? Do you give them the boot too? Awkward.

How about Twitter? Even if you stop following your ex, you’re still able to see his Twitter feed, and you know that in a moment of weakness, you will go there. Do you really want to see him flirting with other users? Do you want him to see you?

I’m not suggesting that anyone sit digital Shiva for weeks after a relationship ends; We’ve all got lives to live, jobs to do, beers to drink, bad decisions to make, over and over and over again. It’s just that for all the advantages of living in a hyperconnected world, it’s also hard, when all you want to do is disconnect.

*Unless you break up with me via text message. Then I’m giving your shit to the homeless. You know who you are.