I have a confession to make. You can judge me all you want, but I’m coming clean:

I cheated on my last boyfriend.

No, it wasn’t a long, torrid love affair. It wasn’t kinky sex with a Jeremy Piven lookalike. In fact, there was no sex involved. All I did was make out with a co-worker. But still, cheating is cheating, so tonsil hockey still counts in my book. It also counted in my boyfriend’s book. And it counted in his sister’s book…and she was the one who witnessed the fiasco.

It was innocent enough; I didn’t intend to cheat. I wasn’t emotionally attached to my co-worker. We just got blackout drunk at a bar and swapped saliva for about half an hour.

The next morning, I woke up feeling like I’d done something wrong. Yup, I had. My boyfriend’s sister asked me if I remembered making out with “Frank.” Immediately, my heart sank. I got dizzy. I wanted to throw up. My mind started racing a mile a minute, as is standard anxiety-attack protocol. Why would I do something like that with Frank, a guy I had absolutely no interest in, when I was happy and in love with her brother?

A lot of people will disagree with me for saying this, but cheating can be hard on the cheater. I was ashamed of myself, I cried, and I regretted doing so many shots the night before. What’s a cheater to do when they’ve crossed the line with someone else? Read More »

If my life was a movie, I’d look jaw-dropping-hot in a little black dress, and every college hook-up would involve a Freddie Prinze, Jr. lookalike leaning in for a kiss, while Six Pence None the Richer’s “Kiss Me” plays in the background. But, since my life is not She’s All That, my spit-swapping stories involve a lot of liquor, and a lot of regrets. There’s a Now! That’s What I Call Music CD out there with Aaron Carter’s “Aaron’s Party (Come Get It)” on the track listing. I know this because it made up the soundtrack of a one night stand a few years ago. Yeah, that’s how my sex life goes down.

Life doesn’t come equipped with an orchestra. If your sexcapades, like your iTunes, are on shuffle, here are a few songs you probably don’t want on your playlist.

1. “Dat Baby”–Shawty Putt feat. Lil Jon

With a chorus of “Dat baby don’t look like me,” and an opening line, “Dat baby ain’t mine… I’m sorry, bitch you heard Maury,” this jam is an instant libido-killer. The last thing a guy wants to hear as he’s sliding into home base is “You are NOT the father!” Sure, you’re using protection, but condoms aren’t 100% effective…paternity tests, on the other hand, don’t lie. Besides, no woman wants to find out that her cute college hookup won’t take responsibility if an accident does happen. Read More »

I dated my first boyfriend for almost two full years, but I hated the way he kissed.

Somehow, I feel like I’m not alone. In fact of all the guys I’ve kissed—I’m trying to count in my head as I write this—I can only think of one or two that have really kissed well.

Part of my problem, yes, was that I was way too spineless to bring up the fact that I didn’t like how my boyfriends kissed. But seriously, how do you even broach a topic like that? “By the way, I hate the way you kiss”? I don’t think so! Read More »