Dear Christy,

Do you believe there's ever any circumstances when it's okay to cheat? What if he already cheated on me?


Pumpkin eaters:

Didn't Jesus tell you about that eye-for-an-eye parable?

(I stopped talking to Jesus, too, after he told me gays are an abomination. Just the tip: "Abomination" is so Anno Domini.)

I personally don't believe there's a circumstance when cheating can be validated. It may feel good to stab that dickbag in the spine with a butter knife, but in the end, you both did wrong. And — sing with me now — two wrongs don't make a right. (Were you also using a David Lee Roth voice?)

Christy Fantz
Christy Fantz

Props for sticking around "if" he already cheated on you. You've got dinosaur balls. Most of us would be frying those nuts up to feed to his mother. But, each couple has their own modus operandi, so if couples can make things work without police intervention, then congratulations.

If you actually have a desire to cheat on him, then why remain with him? Since he (hypothetically) hurt you by cheating, the human response would be to hurt him back. But if you just dump his ass and then plow some dude who won't be unfaithful, then you're not only the bigger person, but this blow will hurt him worse — he has to not only live with his mistake, but he also lost you to it.


When you love someone unconditionally, you open deep secrets and let them hold your bloody heart's hand. It stings when that unconditional trust is crushed with a bad decision.

Being the bigger person is the hardest victory to win. But within days, you'll feel better. In the meantime, a fifth of whiskey and a pat on the hot ass for being a grown-up helps. (Bonus points if you don't smear his name on social media. Gossips always lose.)

Dear Christy,

Apparently I dance like an idiot when I go out with my bros, so they stopped inviting me out. The ladies seem to like it, they just laugh at me. Do I just go out by myself now?


Dancing Queen:

Maybe your flailing moves have perfectly good drinks meeting their untimely demise on the dance floor. Or maybe your Ally Sheedy "Breakfast Club" seizure is causing vomit chains. Or maybe you should leave the twerking to the ladies.

Eh. Screw that.

True friends will let you pull your skirt up to show off your ass tattoo. They'll keep watch as you pee between alley Dumpsters. They'll take pictures when you fall down a flight of stairs. Then take you to the hospital.

Time to find new friends. If something that trivial ruffles their panties, then who do you run to when you poop your pants in class and need a fresh set of boxers?

Dance like an idiot. You'll be busting the final jig when that orgy of ladies have the last dance in your pants.

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