Websites like Google, MySpace, Facebook, and Dontdatehimgirl.com are indispensable when it comes to doing your research before you get seriously involved with somebody. A quick search can help you find out rather quickly if he’s actually single, if he’s a convicted felon, been married before, or given an ex-girlfriend an STD. The information age is here, folks, and we should be taking full advantage.

Google: Google is great for general info, but will give you just that: General info. You might find out that he was a football star in High School, or an honor student, or if he leaves lots of comments using his real name on online discussion boards. You can also use it to search public records, if you’re concerned about something more serious, like say, is he married?

MySpace and Facebook are very handy tools, if the guy’s profile isn’t private. If it is private, you can always request to be his friend. You can see how he interacts with his friends, pictures of him, his interests, and whether or not he has a girlfriend. Is country music a deal breaker for you? You can find out his music tastes on here as well.

I met my fiancé Shane on Match.com. I had never tried online dating before and I was incredibly nervous before we met in person, despite having emailed him for weeks and having several phone conversations. By looking him up on MySpace before we met, I was able to get a clearer picture of what he was like, and see lots more pictures of him, comforting my fears that he was actually a balding, middle aged man or something.

And I can’t forget my very favorite of all—Don’t Date Him Girl. I saw this site on Oprah, and I *love* it. I think it’s absolutely brilliant. It’s like a dating report card, mostly scorned women who can leave warnings for other women about why they shouldn’t date their ex-boyfriends. The stories range from the usual warnings: “Don’t date this guy, he’s a cheater, liar, married, dog, etc.” to things like “This guy gave me herpes.” Or “This guy is a con-artist and robbed me blind.” Now, this site only tells one side of the story, so I take the info on this website with a grain of salt, but you’d better believe that they guy who cheated on me and left me two weeks after we got married has a page dedicated to him on this site!

A co-worker of mine looked up a guy she had been on a few dates with on Facebook. His profile was private , so she requested to be his friend. When he didn’t accept her, she became suspicious and created a fake facebook, with a guy’s picture, and requested him again. This time, he accepted. Imagine her shock and surprise when his relationship status said he was in a relationship, and his page was covered with pictures of him and his girlfriend. Sure, it hurt to find out, but think how much worse it would have been if she had fallen in love with him. A friend of one of my good friends found out that the guy she had been seeing was heavy into drugs, like cocaine, from checking out pictures on his social networking sites. It’s an incredibly useful tool.

Lastly, I feel like I should stipulate: I am not promoting stalking, by any means. I’m just saying we should use resources we have available to us to make an informed decision when it comes to who we will and will not date and be left alone with. Because it’s such an advantage, before you fall in love with somebody yucky, to be able to go online and check him out before you take that plunge. So do your research, Nancy Drew!

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Love at Work

Once upon a time, in a far away land, a ridiculously cute redhead ventured into a zany adventure that would change her way of life. She had no way of knowing that this escapade would whisk her away for two years to a life of secrecy, insubordinate behavior, and a transfer to a new land, even further away.

Or in other words, I once dated a co-worker. Actually, I dated my boss, to be exact.

It all started when I was 21 years old. I had just been unceremoniously dumped by my boyfriend of 4 years, who, to be quite frank, I had always figured (in a way only a naïve 21 year old can) that we would get married one day and live happily ever after. Instead, he broke up with me on Christmas Eve so that he could date an unattractive older woman, and left me, alone and heartbroken, and totally susceptible to the charms of my 27 year old boss who was fairly cute, but lets face it, in retrospect, not really at all.

I had never really paid much attention to my boss. He was not nearly as cute as my boyfriend, and plus he was 6 years older than me and had an extremely hairy chest, a physical trait that has never grown on me. That said, in my depressed state, this 27 year old man with the furry chest, and all the attention he was paying me became more and more appealing.

Now, of course, our work had a strict policy about dating co-workers, especially if there was a conflict of interest involved, say, I don’t know, hypothetically, you wanted to date….. your boss. That was strictly not allowed. So, we did what any 21 year old and incredibly immature 27 year old in a position of authority would do—we hid it.

Hiding it was fairly easy to do while we were in the “honeymoon” stage. Let me tell you when it became hard: when we were in a fight.

Imagine getting up in the morning with your significant other. Having coffee and then heading off to work… together. Then imagine getting to the office, and working within 5 feet of each other all day long. When 5 o’clock comes, you leave the office… together. Then, you go home, make dinner, and eat… together. Then you gorge on ice cream and popcorn and watch The Biggest Loser on television…. together. The next day, you wash, rinse repeat. Let me tell you, it’s easy to get on each other’s nerves.

I will never forget one particular moment where I almost blew my cover.. We worked in a travel agency (I was a travel agent) and my IATAN card (a travel agent ID card that basically proves you are a travel agent, and allows you travel agent discounts) had been expired for several months. It was my boss’s job to renew it, and I had been bugging him… for months. But I guess it wasn’t high on his priority list because I was his girlfriend, and I guess he thought I wouldn’t turn him in for not doing his job.

Anyway, I was about to leave on a trip where I was to stay in a $250 per night hotel for $59 per night, but I needed my IATAN card to do so. He had promised, over everything, that my IATAN card would be there on time. The Friday before the trip came. No IATAN card. He said it was coming and would be there by 3pm. I called IATAN. “No Ma’am.” They said “Your IATAN membership is expired. We haven’t received payment or the renewal forms.”

Needless to say, I was pretty angry. I marched into my boss’s office, and slammed his door. I guess I was yelling, because when I looked through the window of his office, all of my co-workers were staring at us. When I was done, I came back out of the office, two of my middle aged co-workers, who were also tired of his procrastinating, gave me a mini-round of applause. Some of the others raised their eyebrows at me with a little smile though. I think they knew what was up. That was when I knew I probably needed to request a transfer to another office.

If you’re secretly dating a co-worker, another thing you can’t really do is hang out with other couples from work. This means you can’t invite them to your parties, or even out for drinks, because they will likely catch on. Vacations are another issue. I remember we thought we were so sly, because whenever we went on vacation together, he would take two days off before me so that people wouldn’t know we were going at the same time. Um, yeah… right. I’m sure we had them fooled.

Another downside: Watching other co-workers hit on your boyfriend, because nobody knows that the two of you are dating. Even better—when your middle aged co-workers try to set you up with their sons because none of them know you have a boyfriend—and dealing with them when you turn down their sons and they get, naturally, offended.

In the end, I did end up transferring to another office, which made me very unhappy. It was a much longer commute and I missed my old co-workers. When we broke up, I moved back to the office. There’s something even more awkward than dating your boss—having your ex-boyfriend as your boss. But I’m not even going to get into that.

Eventually, he was fired for, get this, using travelers checks to launder the company’s money, (yes, I know how to pick winners) and my life went back to normal.

In the end, the ridiculously cute redhead lived happily ever after, with a man who was not her boss. But in the end, she never forgot the lesson she learned—Never date your boss. And don’t date your co-workers either, if you work somewhere where it’s not allowed. It just isn’t worth the trouble.

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Do older women have extra sizzle?

At 45 she was drop dead gorgeous and could make a crowded room stop and stare. Simple magnetic sexual attraction.

He was just a young kid of 26, smart and interested in whether the myth was true about going out with an older women. He just had to find out.

It was no small feat to enter the circle of her world, she was rich, elegant, and divorced.  Every rich man was going after her. His tactic was going to have to be the opposite. In fact he only had average good looks, a good personality but a natural confidence with the ladies.

Finally he got audience, and played it cool, but friendly. She was even hotter up close. They chatted, made small talk. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath the low cut silk blouse and he could clearly see she was erect. And her smell. Definitely not bubblegum. It was pure luxurious sophistication. He was feeling dizzy.

Through the small talk they found they were attending the same party later on in the week. As they kissed goodbye, she got up and brushed her breasts lightly across his arm.  He went home and masturbated.

She was a no-show at the next party. As he searched for the hostess to say goodbye, there she was, sitting in a chair in the kitchen chatting away with the hostess. She had come in through the back door. “I think you’re too drunk to drive home.  Can you drive him?” the hostess said looking at her. “Of course. I was going home anyway.”

He slid into the passenger seat next to her, intoxicated by her presence, her smell. Her neck was exquisitely formed, her hair perfectly done. “Where do you live?” she said, bending slightly forward to start the car, revealing her beautifully shaped breast. He had to think a moment. Newport. Great that’s where she was headed.

They parked in a small lot next to his house to chat. It was clear there was mutual passion bubbling underneath but they were both trying to remain casual on the surface. Finally, he leaned over, kissed her lightly, and slipped his hand into her blouse and firmly cupped her breast. It wasn’t as firm as the younger girls but it was soft, full and… wonderful.

And that was the start of the sex fest. They did it everywhere, in the car, in the garage, in the laundry room of his condo. She consumed him whole in a movie theater. He fingered her while they casually dined with six other dining partners in a famous restaurant. She mounted him while driving home. He had the youth stamina to keep up with her insatiable appetite. He loved it when he could bring her body to a near crescendo, then maintain it until, with one thrust of his manhood deep into her core, bring her to a multiple climax that kept her body convulsing for more than an hour.

The better the sex, the better the perks. New clothes, presents, dining at expensive places, travel to exotic locations for intimate encounters. It was a goldmine. Until they started wanting more.

Her friends were all in their forties and fifties. His Mom’s age.  It was easier to hang out with his friends, but he could see she sometimes felt they were immature. Like her children.

On their last date, he wanted to make it a memorable one as they both knew it was over. He gently tied her to a chair with scarves fully clothed, and blind-folded her. Her breath was heavy, anticipatory.  It took an hour for her to be fully nude, only the blind fold remained. He kissed, licked and touched every part of her body. Again he didn’t let her come for another hour, bringing her close, but always stopping when he sensed she was going over the edge. She was swollen, blood pulsing thickly through her body. Finally, with one last small flick of his tongue, she convulsed, arching her body backwards and almost tipping over the chair. He caught her, held her close while wave after wave came over her. When she finally became still, he removed her bindings, kissed her lightly, and they said goodbye for the last time.

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We all complain about men and their cheating. It is my firm belief that we, women, could almost eliminate the issue, if we would stop being willing participants. In fact, I feel that we have an obligation to women as women, not to knowingly participate in betrayal in another woman’s relationship.

Go ahead, call me a dreamer. But I don’t think I’m so unrealistic. I refuse to believe that this is something that we women will do to each other forever. To quote Barack Obama, my current favorite person in the world, “Nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices calling for change.” Through the centuries, people have been telling women about all of the things they can’t do. Well, I resent being told that this is something we can’t do. It’s so easy. If you know that somebody is in a relationship, don’t start a relationship with that person. If you start a relationship with a new guy, and find out later that he already has a mate, end the relationship. I feel like we need the Staples “Easy” button for this. It’s that simple.

I know we’d never get rid of cheating 100%… There will always be those guys who lie. Wedding rings come off, we all know that. But consider this dismaying observation: Most people who are cheating with somebody who is having an affair, already know that person is in a relationship.

Many, many women don’t see this the way I do. In their opinion, the only person who has made a commitment to the relationship is the man, and she, the other woman, owes his partner nothing. I find this phenomenon fascinating, in fact, a long time ago, I explored the idea of writing a book on the subject. Dean McDermott’s ex-wife beat me to it, but still, my research was intriguing. What I found, from random surveys, is that most women who are sleeping with another woman’s partner have justified it in their heads.

The justifications are always the same. The man is the one doing the cheating. She has made no commitment to his partner, so why should she worry about her feelings? The guys’s wife/girlfriend deserves it. She never pays attention to him, she’s controlling, she’s let herself go, she never gives him any sex. He’s one of her ex-boyfriends, and she had him first. She didn’t know about the girlfriend or wife when she started the relationship, and once she found out, she just couldn’t give him up… I could go on and on and on. But I think these excuses are just that. Excuses, and bad ones at that. Excuses that we make up to justify our own unsavory behavior.

What ever happened to love thy neighbor? What ever happened to treat others the way you want to be treated? Karma? Or how about respect and dignity for other people as people? I’m no hypocrite. As I write this, I can honestly say that I have never coveted another woman’s man. I realize I might sound very pious and holier-than-thou to many of you. But I’m not. I’m not a perfect person by any means. But this has always been something I just won’t do. I think it’s an incredibly selfish act, and personally, I don’t want to be responsible for making another woman feel the actual physical pain and heartbreak that comes with discovering that your partner is having an affair.

When I was 25 years old, I married Dan, a boyfriend I had been living with for over two years. We had, I thought, a very good relationship. We trusted each other implicitly and we seldom fought. I was in no hurry to get married, but he proposed to me on his own, and I accepted. We had a large wedding in front of virtually every person I knew. All of my friends, family, and co-workers were in attendance. We took a honeymoon to Hawaii.

When we returned from Hawaii, Dan went off on a 3 day dirt bike trip with his friends. When he came back, he told me that we needed to talk. He told me that he felt like he had made a mistake in getting married and that he hadn’t been ready. I felt dizzy and nauseous. Then he dropped the bombshell. He told me he was in love with somebody else. That he wanted to get divorced. He didn’t want to go to counseling, or even talk about it. He had been thinking about it all weekend and he had made up his mind. I went into the bathroom and threw up.

Naturally, I wanted to know why. No answer. Crickets, actually. He just kept telling me that it wasn’t my fault, I hadn’t done anything wrong, but that he couldn’t help who he fell in love with. I wanted to know who she was, he wouldn’t tell me. I wanted to know why he didn’t tell me this before, oh, say, we got married in front of 200 of our closest friends and family members. He didn’t know until this weekend, he said. I packed a bag full of my stuff, took my cat Mr. Toad, and went to stay at my best friend’s house.

As you would expect, everyone was shocked. It was the single most humiliating and degrading experience of my life. Worse than the shock and outrage was the sympathy. “Poor Shannon…. She never saw it coming.” “Poor Shannon…. We knew that guy was bad news from the beginning…”

His mother called me to tell me she was disowning him. That she couldn’t believe a son she had raised would do such a thing. That she would always love me as a daughter. I sobbed into the phone. I took 3 weeks off of work, which I spent lying in bed crying. I couldn’t face anybody. When I did go back to work, I had to leave my desk about a hundred times a day to lock myself in a bathroom stall and sob. I decided I was going to be an old maid, and I bought a brother for Mr. Toad. The new kitten, Mr. Piggy completed my transition into complete and total cat-lady.

About a week after Dan’s stunning revelation, I went to our house with my mom while I knew he was at work to get my mail. In the mailbox, amongst the stacks of utility bills and junk mail, was a post card. On the post card, in a pink pen, was written “Dear Dan, Here’s the post card you told me to send. Thank you for an amasing (sic) week. You are such an amasing (sic) person and I love you. XOXO Wendy.”

I stared at the post card for a couple of minutes. It was one of those free ones that hotels give out. It had some hotel on the front, I can’t remember which one anymore. My blood started to boil. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or sob or laugh hysterically. Amazing? I could think of other words for him. Why had my husband left me for somebody who couldn’t even spell the word “amazing” correctly? Twice? Wendy… where did I know that name? I knew somebody with that name. Who was it? But worst of all…. Why was this woman sending love note post cards to MY house? Where I would get them and be able to read them?

I called Dan in a fury. Turns out, his girlfriend, Wendy, didn’t believe him that he had left me. To prove it, he had allowed her to send a post card to our house, telling her that if I hadn’t moved out, I’d get it, and if he hadn’t really left his wife he wouldn’t risk such a thing. I couldn’t believe that either one of them was so un-concerned with my feelings. Dan knew I came there to get the mail. Wendy sent the thing knowing that if I didn’t already know about her, I’d know now.

Two weeks after that, I went to our house to get some more of my things. I went into our bedroom to get some things from my closet, and found naked pictures of Wendy all over the place. Ones she had given him. “Professional Modeling Portraits” taken at some place called, get this, the Rusty Cock Ranch. Wendy looked like the wrestler, China. She had at least 75lbs on me. She had jet black hair with two thick white stripes bleached through it, countless tattoos and body piercings… And she was posing naked for a photographer. It was like he had gone out and found the exact opposite of me and fallen in love with her. It was awful. And not only had they done this to me, they were now rubbing their relationship in my face. Leaving those pictures out when he knew I was coming to collect me things. The post card, all of it. It was almost too much for me to handle.

Later, I realized that I knew Wendy. Dan was a personal trainer, and Wendy worked the front desk at his gym. I had even met her once. Everyone at that gym knew that Dan and I were engaged, many of them attended our wedding. I found out eventually that Dan and Wendy had been carrying on before we were married. Either one of them could have said something to me, could have stopped the wedding, could have spared me the humiliation and pain of it all, of being divorced two weeks after I got married. But they didn’t. Why? I can think of only one reason: Pure and unadulterated egotism and cowardice.

So, I have a hard time feeling any sympathy for the other woman, if she knows what is going on. I have nothing but sympathy for women who are duped into dating married men unknowingly—if they end the relationship when they find out. But for those who do it with their eyes wide open, I feel like it is an unbelievably selfish act. I think it is done to boost up low self-confidence, for the thrill of the chase, to make her feel good about herself. All the while tearing apart another woman’s heart and self esteem. And I don’t think anybody deserves that kind of pain.

Ladies, wake up! You should not be consistently calling, emailing, hanging out alone with, flirting with, or spending time alone with some other girl’s boyfriend, husband, or fiancé. Nor should you be exchanging flirty emails at work, going on lunch dates, or going out after work for a drink alone with them.

In my opinion, Dan, and all people who cheat on their partners, are really just a sufferers of “the grass is always greener” complex. Did Wendy really think she kept up her lawn that much better than I kept mine? I watered that thing daily. So, to Wendy, I say “Somebody else’s grass will always be greener than yours. You were just being used. And in the process, you treated another innocent women (me) like crap. I hope moles dig up your yard, and your grass turns brown and dies.”

And in the end, Wendy’s grass did turn brown and die. She and Dan broke up shortly after our divorce was finalized. And I got my happily ever after. I have an absolutely dashing fiancé who respects what I have been through and loves me unconditionally, despite my two cats. Wendy and Dan? Currently both single.

And as for the baggage this whole experience left me with, well, I boxed up most of it, including that appalling postcard, and I flung it into the sea. The rest, I keep with me, as a lesson learned in human kindness and karma. Treat others the way you want to be treated. Don’t tear others down to build yourself up. What goes around comes around.

So ladies, stop the insanity. Stop participating in this madness. And don’t forget—inner ugliness is the worst possible trait a person can have. Don’t be inner ugly. Help find a cure. Don’t be an eager participant in the game of disloyalty. If we all band together, if we all remain true to our obligation to each other, as women, and as human beings, we can, at the very least, put a dent in the tragedy that is infidelity.

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Check, Please!

I find that there are two schools of thought regarding who should pay for dates. Some women feel that the man should always pay for dates, and some people feel it is more fair to go dutch. I have a very clear opinion on this subject.

Guys, if you don’t want to be thought of as a cheap-o, you should always pay for the first date. You should insist upon it. Ladies, it is always a nice gesture to pull out your wallet and offer to pay for the first date, even if you have no intention of doing so. It’s more like a courtesy offer. In all my dating life, I have only had one man take me up on the first date courtesy offer. He was a traveling vacuum salesman and he took me to Taco Del Mar. We just had the one date. Enough said. If you do the courtesy offer, and he takes you up on it, well, there are plenty of fish in the sea.

Now, on the second date, the woman should pay. She should be resolute about it. Even if the man tries to insist that he pay. If necessary, you might have to have a little fight over the bill. You know, the way our moms do when they go out for lunch with their friends. This is 2008. Women can vote now. We have careers, credit card bills, car payments, and our own homes. We don’t need to depend on men to pay for everything, nor should they have to. I’m not saying that you need to obsess about equality and switching off. He might treat you to two dinners and you treat him to one. The following month, maybe you’ll pay for more things than he does. The point is to have a healthy balance, so that you are equal partners and that one of you doesn’t go bankrupt in the process.

My brother has a particularly horrid ex-girlfriend who he dated for three years. They lived together for most of that time. They both had full time jobs, and for parts of their relationship, she made more money than he did. After they broke up, he told me that he had paid for every single date. Every single dinner. For 3 years. And they used to go out for dinner 3-4 times per week. I did the math, and that’s about twenty-two thousand dollars my brother spent on dinners in three years. Guys, if you do all the paying in the beginning of a relationship, you’re going to set a precedent that will remain throughout your entire relationship.

Remember the line in When Harry Met Sally? Harry says “You take someone to the airport, its clearly the beginning of the relationship. That’s why I have never taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship. Because eventually things move on and you don’t take someone to the airport and I never wanted anyone to say to me, How come you never take me to the airport anymore?”

Well, paying for dates is the same. Eventually, you’re going to get tired of paying for all the dates, and if you bring it up, your girlfriend is going to deduce from that conversation that you don’t love her as much as you used to. Trust me. I’m a woman. I know these things.

Gentlemen, do yourself a favor, for me. If you’re dating one of those women who wants to be treated like a queen, and for some reason doesn’t think she should ever have to pay for anything just because she has boobs and a nice butt—RUN. Run away fast. Find yourself a woman who will treat you like an equal. We don’t have princesses here in America. The closest thing we have is Paris Hilton, and she doesn’t really count.

Yes, it’s very chivalrous of you to offer. We appreciate it. But we don’t need it. And most of us wouldn’t take you up on it. Sure, there are those girls who would take advantage of you if you let them. These girls drive nice cars that their parent’s bought them, with glittery bumper stickers that say “I’m a Princess, That’s Why.” They carry around designer dogs in designer purses and wear designer clothes. And they expect you to pay for their dinner. Always.

My fiancé and I are total equals in this regard. It’s actually very fun to come home and surprise my honey with “Lets go out for dinner tonight—my treat.” And it’s nice when he surprises me in the same way. As women, if we want to be treated like equals, we should act like it. And that includes paying for the occasional movie date, or dinner at The Olive Garden.

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Are They Cheating? Get Tested.

I’ve had two men cheat on me in my life. Both times it was devastating. When it happened with the first one, I was 21 years old, and I had just defied my parent’s wishes and moved in with a guy for the first time. I had broken up with my first love, my boyfriend of 4 years only a few months prior. Matt was a rebound relationship, my boss, and 6 years older than me. In retrospect, I can see why my parents were so upset. But I was wearing rose colored glasses and was positive that we would live happily ever after, and I was having fun playing house.

Six months after we moved in together, I started to feel uneasy about Matt. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I didn’t believe him about certain things. For one thing, he told me he was taking a computer class so he could get a new position at Microsoft, and was gone every night from 5:00 p.m. until 9:00 or 10:00 p.m., but I never saw a book or saw him do any homework. I had not met any of his friends, or his family. I found this odd as well. When I asked him about meeting his friends and family, he told me he wanted to wait, because they had all really liked his ex-girlfriend, and he wanted to give them time to get over it first.

I was feeling more and more uneasy about this every day. One evening, while Matt was at class, I decided to go through his drawer of bills and things. I was looking for his credit card bill. Anyone who has ever watched a chick flick knows that the credit card statement is always where you go to find out if somebody has been cheating on you. I felt very Meryl Streep a’la Heartburn while I looked through his drawers. I almost expected soft Carly Simon music to start playing in the background as I rifled through stacks of envelopes and papers. I was terrified he would catch me. But I found it.

There it was in black and white. Matt had not been taking a computer class. Matt had been spending his evenings in Woodinville, which was nowhere near his supposed “class” in Edmonds. Dinners, lots of dinners on his credit card statement. Dinners for two, unless he was eating fifty dollars worth of food on his own each night. At places like The Olive Garden, Tony Roma’s, and Alfie’s Pizza. Now that’s classy. At least he was taking her out in style. Movies—lots of charges from Regal Cinemas, and grocery stores in Woodinville. He had supposedly gone out of town a few weeks earlier for a football game in Pullman with his friends. I noticed on those dates that he had spent 3 nights at the Silver Cloud Inn in Woodinville. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

Matt had led me to believe that he had broken up with his ex girlfriend Amy because he came home to the apartment they shared and found her in bed with someone else. As a 27 year old, I now know how utterly ridiculous that sounds. When I was 20, I believed it. Suddenly, I started wondering if this story was true. I got on my computer and googled Amy’s name. Up came her name, address, and phone number. In Woodinville.

I called Matt’s cell phone. It was turned off. It was always turned off while he was in “class.” So I called Amy’s number. I got her voicemail. I left her a message, telling her I was Matt’s live-in girlfriend and asked her to please give me a call back. Within 5 minutes I had a call from Matt. “You’ve been cheating on me with Amy.” I said. He denied it and said he had just gotten out of class. I didn’t buy it. “Come home right now.” I told him.

In all my life, I had never been so angry. I paced around our 600 square foot apartment, alternately bawling my eyes out and storming around in a rage. 2 hours later, Matt walked in the door. We had a fight, me yelling and crying, and him looking me straight in the eye and denying all charges against him. I was crazy he said. He loved me he said. I was imagining things, he said. I stared at him in disbelief. Did he really take me for a total idiot? Did he really think I would just take his word for it when I had the proof, right in front of me in black and white? In my gut, I knew he was lying.

He stood across from me in the living room, denying the allegations. Calling me crazy. I started to feel a little crazy. It was almost Christmas. I picked up a cookie tin full of those little shortbread cookies and threw it at his head. I didn’t care if I took his head off. I would hide his body in an Eastern Washington wooded area and nobody would ever find it. This was my well thought out plan.

I missed Matt’s head by about 3 inches and the cookie tin exploded all over the wall. Cookie crumbs everywhere. In hindsight, I’m lucky it missed his head, but at the moment, I was really pissed off about it. I didn’t even care about the mess I had just made. Matt left. Probably on his way back to Amy’s. “Good!” I said to myself. I started gathering up his clothing. I was going to throw it off the balcony, just as I’d been taught by Rosie Perez in It Could Happen to You.

It occurred to me suddenly that I didn’t know who else he had been cheating on me with. It could be any number of people. I could have Chlamydia. Or something worse, something permanent. Sexually transmitted diseases are everywhere. I recently read that one in 4 sexually active adults had herpes. How was I going to get a new boyfriend if I had herpes? I’d have to go onto one of those online dating sites specifically for people with herpes. And I’d only slept with two people in my life. I began to weep. I abandoned my plan to throw his clothes off the balcony and went to sleep.

The next morning, Amy called me. She confirmed that she and Matt had been sleeping together and dating again, but that she had not known about me. “I guess he was playing us both.” She said. I believed her. Turns out that the way Matt had broken up with Amy had been pretty horrible, but that’s another story for another time. I thanked her for her call.

My self esteem was extremely low. I suppose that it had something to do with the way my last relationship had ended. My ex-boyfriend had not cheated on me, but he had broken up with me so that he could date somebody else, a friend of his. This was heartbreaking, and not good for my self image. Then, here was Matt, overweight, unattractive, a liar, and he didn’t want me either. If Matt didn’t want me, who would? I felt low. That’s probably why, when Matt came home a couple of days later, begging for forgiveness, I forgave. This was a mistake. I can honestly say that the year I wasted staying with Matt after this incident was the loneliest, saddest, most emotionally scarring time of my life.

Matt cheated on me for the next year before I finally got fed up and left him. I got an STD test (clean, thank God), packed up Toad, my cat, and all of my belongings, and went straight to my best friend Emma’s house. She made me a cup of tea, gave me a spare bedroom, and I got over it. Her husband gave me the best advice I received during that time, and now I am going to share it with you. When you are in a bad relationship, when there is cheating or abuse going on, it is, inevitably going to end. No matter what, you are going to have to feel that pain. That agonizing feeling that enters your heart when a relationship ends, that actual physical pain, is going to have to come eventually. So you can either deal with it now or later, but you’re going to have to deal eventually, so why not get it over with. I realized I had stayed in a relationship for far too long, just so that I could avoid that feeling. It wasn’t worth it.

Matt taught me my golden rule. Once a cheater, always a cheater. I used to think this was something that only bitter old cat ladies said, but now I say it too. Later in my life, when another man cheated on me, I left him right away. I had learned my lesson. If anything, do it for your health. Remember, when you sleep with somebody, you are sleeping with everyone they have ever slept with. And if they’re cheating on you, that STD test you took before you threw out your condoms in favor of birth control is pointless. After all, diamonds are forever, but so is herpes.

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