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 »

So, I really don’t care about what is going on with crazy cheeks Madonna and her soon-to-be ex husband, Guy Ritchie. But everywhere I turn there is news about these two. Any by “news” I mean “really embarassing stories.”

It seems like every hour either Madonna or Guy are coming out with a vicious and, oftentimes, scarring statement about the other.

Guy Ritchie, obviously hurt by his ex wife’s indescretions with A-Rod, has said that Madonna looks like a “granny on stage,” and that having sex with her was like, “hugging a piece of gristle.”

Madonna fired back by calling him “emotionally retarded,” and claiming Guy was “just after my money.”

Just another typical case of post breakup he said/she said.

It doesn’t matter if you are a celebrity or just a college girl scorned by her cheating boyfriend, breakups always cause the gloves to come off and the truth to come out. Especially the most embarassing and hurtful truths. Anyone who knows me knows all about my ex’s issues (”Yeah, cuz sex for 1.5 minutes is GREAT!”), and after my BFF’s particularly painful breakup, the entire campus knows about her ex’s farting issues during sex. Ew.

Anyways, breakups cause pain and pain causes people to resort to just about anything to make themselves feel better. Like talking sh*t. Which Guy and Madonna have mastered.

So I want to know: what are some of the crazier things that have come out after your big breakups? Leave your responses in the comments section below; we wanna know all the juicy deets.

Q: I’ve been with my boyfriend for a year, and I’ve been faking it about three-fourths of the times we have sex (the other fourth of the time is genuinely great!). I started doing it because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and because he really cares about my satisfaction, but I’m tired of faking, and now I don’t want to hurt his feelings by confessing about the past year. What should I do?

A: I’m sure many people would tell you that “honesty is the best policy,” and I agree…most of the time.

But hearing “I’ve been faking it” is tough to hear–and I should know, because I told an ex-boyfriend just that in a fit of post-breakup rage (I know). Sure, saying it out of anger is different than saying it because you’re ready to be honest about your needs and satisfaction–but if you’re planning on staying with him and working on your sexual relationship, I think there are better ways to work on that relationship than dealing him a low blow to the ego like that.

If you can get things on the right track without hurting him, why not do that?

Think about it, if he told you he’s been faking it for the past year (yes, guys can fake it!), would you be able to brush it off and jump in the saddle (so to speak) to start fresh? If it were me, I’d have a hell of a hard time feeling up for another roll in the hay.

But all is not lost. First thing’s first: stop faking. Not next week, not when it starts getting better, but now. Tonight. He won’t start doing the things that push your buttons if he thinks you’re into things you really could do without. Read More »

Class can be…well, for lack of a better word, intimidating. All those people you don’t know, the professor standing up, and the larger than life classrooms (if you went to a big school like mine!) are a huge step from the small, comforting, friend-filled high school classrooms you’re used to.

Lots of times, when you’re in a new class in college, you can feel overwhelmed, embarrassed, and hesitant to speak up and give your two cents.

Unfortunately, slinking into the last row doesn’t always work; lots of classes base a part of your grade on participation, so speaking up is necessary. But, everyone gets those butterflies - the fear of being wrong or of giving the wrong impression is scarring and, for lots of people, a risk not worth taking.

I had a Psychology class my freshman year of over 550 people. Seriously, seriously scary. I never said a word. Sat there with my nose in the books and kept quiet until one day when the professor polled the entire class. Simple enough, right? Well, when I shot my hand up, face down of course, I noticed the room got extremely quiet. I looked up and realized that, out of 550 people, I was the only person who had raised a hand. So the professor asked me to stand up and explain why. It was then or never, so I got up, legs a little wobbly, and grew the courage to speak up. Read More »

Remember when The Truth first started? Way back in 1998, it was a little grassroots organization dedicated to putting out the truth about the tobacco industry. I was only 11 back then, but I still thought it was pretty cool that there were people hitting the streets and just talking to people about how harmful cigarettes can be.

But I know you guys have seen the recent Truth commercials. Sure, they’re still sort of living up to their name. Still, it seems like they’re more interesting in getting the shocked “WTF?” reaction out of people instead of educating them.

Most people in my family don’t smoke. I happen to be allergic to cigarette smoke, and I have asthma, so taking a puff for me would kind of be like committing suicide. One of my aunts smoked until the day she died about seven or eight years ago. My other aunt stopped smoking shortly after. I have a bunch of friends who smoke, though. And no matter how much lecturing they get, I know that most of them are not going to stop smoking. Hell, I remember asking a friend of mine at school if he thought he would ever quit smoking. He laughed. Then coughed. Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 106
Mood: Confused

“It’s cold outside, huh?”

Rebecca and I walked slowly down a carpeted corridor, our boots scratching softly on the grey rug. My cheeks stung from a wind that had moved completely into winter, stretching the skin too tight against my face.

“It’s freezing. Winter’s really here, I guess.” Rebecca kept talking, all the energy she had kept bottled up during our shopping trip pushing out and covering my silence.

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure I could say anything. By the time Rebecca stopped and knocked on a door covered in paper flowers, I was sure I had gone dumb with anxiety.

“Okay. Ready?” Rebecca cleared her throat, her mittened hands opening and closing.

Before I could answer, the door opened, almost as though the person on the other side had known we were coming, had been waiting. Sammy stood in front of us, small, thin, covered in a fuzzy blue blanket, the lamp on her desk throwing a lightness around her blond head. Even though it looked like she hadn’t slept in a while, there was no denying the cute, popular superstar she had once been.

Before it all. Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 90
Mood: Guilty

“Do you have any gum?”

Stacey shifted in the brown leather chair, straightening her blazer. She had dressed for the occasion, opting to go for “mature and classical” instead of her usual “fake and preppy”.

I was sporting my standard jeans and long sleeved shirt look, being under the impression that the Dean of Student Life didn’t really care about our clothes.

“Here.” I reached into my giant purse and pulled out a half-crushed packet of gum. “You sure you want to be talking to Dean Carlon with stuff in your mouth, though?”

“Do you have any gum that hasn’t been through the washing machine?” Crinkling her noise, Stacey stared at my hand like I was passing her a dead rat. “And I was gonna spit it out before going in there anyway. I just have this horrible taste in the back of my throat.” Begrudgingly taking a piece of gum from the pack, Stacey slipped it behind her shiny pink lips and bleached white teeth. “I always get a gross taste in my throat when I’m nervous.”

“Should we be nervous?” I took a piece of gum myself and started to chew quickly, realizing that my jaw had answered my question for me; we should be very nervous. Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 87
Mood: Kinda freaked

“So, should we start?”

As much as I could have stared back and forth from Sasha’s eyes to his friend’s bare chest forever, I didn’t want to spend my entire Saturday at the Soccer House. Eventually, the rest of the guys were going to wake up, and I wanted to be out of there before I was surrounded by some of the most infamous people on campus.

Maybe the rumors weren’t true. Maybe the Scandal everyone was still whispering about had been blown out of proportion, but as far as I knew, Sammy still wasn’t in class, and Public Safety had been seen patrolling around the Soccer House at night way more than usual.

Rumors always come from somewhere, and I wanted to be out the door before I found out just how close to the truth they were.

“Sure. Let’s start. I just gotta run upstairs and grab my book.” Sasha stood, kicking the table in the process and flinching. “Of course I forgot my book. Be right back.”

Jumping over the side of the couch and heading toward the stairs, Sasha clunked up the steps, his bare feet making enough noise on the old wood to wake up the entire house.

I stared down at my Chemistry book, turning the pages and pretending to be so interested in the equations that I had no idea the half-undressed guy was still in the kitchen, rummaging around in the refrigerator. I let my hair fall into my face, doing my best to stay quiet and blend into the old green cushions. Read More »