So what’s one to do when most of them have 4-letters?
You have been broken up for a month now. It’s time. “Oh, no! Not yet. You have half the length of your relationship to mourn the loss of that relationship”—ERRR, wrong! Stop moping. A wise man once told me that you can’t get over someone until you get UNDER someone else. While hopping into the sack with a stranger is not going to mend your broken heart, lovingly gazing at old kissy pictures of you and your ex are not helping your cause either.
You meet someone special and fall in love. Soon enough you meet the fam and realize that your new sig other is awesome for a reason, just look at what they come from! Next thing you know you’re invited on family vacations, spending holidays together and helping plan his/her nephew’s Spiderman themed 3rd birthday party. You’re IN. They love you. So what happens when shit hits the fan and things with this fabulous partner of yours start to fizzle? Can you still get in on Dad’s Wednesday night poker game? Should you still show your face at little sister Sally’s dance recital? Sadly enough, probably not...
I drink pickle juice. I cried watching Making the Band 4 last night. I’ve had (maybe more than one...) sex dream about Steve Buschemi. I write about 10 texts a day that I know I’ll never send but will reread about 89 times and think about what might happen if I did. Why am I telling you this? Because we’re not dating, duh. If we were I’d be pickle juice free and you wouldn’t even know I watch Making the Band 4...or that Tila Tequila show. In fact, if we were dating, I’d be waiting exactly 7 minutes to respond to your text messages to keep from looking a little to eager. I’d be lying about liking football because you’re so into it. I’d sit through your shitty acoustic rendition of Wonder Wall because it’s the only song you know all of on the guitar...and pretend to LOVE it. I will also stalk every female on your myspace page and pretend not to know who they are when you mention them. I’m crazy. But don’t scoff yet, so are you.
I learned at a very young age not to ask questions that you reall don’t want to know the answers to. Technology today allows for more nosiness than ever, but just because they invented spywear doesn’t make it ok for you to brand yourself the next Sherlock F--king Holmes. Relationships are tricky, and it’s perfectly natural for your ears to perk up when your signifigant other’s phone is blowing up with texts that aren’t from you. Here’s the general rule: asking who’s sending the messages is nosey but understandable, asking to see the messages is pretty wacky, and looking at them without asking is downright crazy! 
