FANTZ: Girlfriend cheats during spring break

D ear Christy,

Over spring break I cheated on my boyfriend. I didn’t mean to, I was drunk and it happened. The only thing I know about the guy is that he goes to UCLA. And he was hooooooot. Some secrets are better kept hidden, right? I want to stay with my longtime boyfriend and the only way he’ll find out is if my friends babble to him, which they won’t. Or I could tell him and run the risk of losing him. What should I do?

–Cheater

Pumpkin eater:

In friends we trust.

In you, your boyfriend trusts.

Friends come, but most go. Don’t be so certain they won’t betray you. Life is all Rainbow Brite and bong hits until you find your man thigh-deep into your bestie.

There are “friends” out there who harbor jealous inner rage, and really want to plow your boyfriend. I’ve seen it a hundred times. All a girl needs is some juicy dirt on you to clamp onto his zipper.

If you were the only one in the know of your infidelity, you could potentially hide your inner whore from him. However, other people know. So since there’s a chance he can find out through the college grapevine (which is wider than your black hole), then he needs to hear it from you.

Lies suck. They burst into a blaze of fibs and unruly spiral into cover-ups upon cover-ups. Then all sorts of shit goes down. Los pantalones estan en fuego! Look at those liars hanging from the telephone wire! What a mess.

In conclusion: Have a little class. If you loved him so, you wouldn’t have cheated on him, jerk.

And if you do reveal the truth, he’ll probably leave. At least your cheating heart can ride off into your sunset of truth and prosperity, where it smells like hookers and cheese.

Dear Christy,

So I got shocked last night, in the literal sense. And yes, was I shocked. What’s with dudes and putting their fingers up girls’ buttholes these days?

— Shocked

Shhhh:

Dudes have been fiddling ladies’ starfishes since Jesus invented sliced bread.

Going to town with one in the brown. Christen our race refined.

Once upon some time ago, Sir Shock’s pinky finger inadvertently slipped into his lassie’s bumhole, releasing a swift “CRIKEY!” from her piehole. Sir Shock then boasted to his friends and the chaps have been shocking us since, to our pleasure/chagrin. (Such a beautiful parable.)

It’s forbidden fruit. That waxy red apple. Dudes get off by pushing the envelope. Broads just want an orgasm.

Let him have his fun and when the fancy strikes you, see how he likes it. He’ll yell at you, but covertly beg for more.

The shocker is the new bacon. Everybody’s doing it.

Note to selves: Cool kids shock without incident. Fools litter their vehicle’s back window with shocker stickers.