“That’s right, Christy. Keep telling yourself that.”

I sincerely hope I never spoke about my ex (or about anyone, really) the way I hear some women talk about their husbands. (I am 99.9% sure I didn’t, even when we broke up.)

Jesus Christ, I get that you need to vent sometimes, but it’s like you never talk to THEM. You must be saving it all for me, because alllllll you do is bitch. And let me tell you, listening to it is an absolute TREAT.

Do you love this person? Do you even LIKE him? You really need to buffer by mentioning some of the nice things, because you’re either married to a complete fucking jag, or you’re just an ungrateful asshole who can’t see what he does for you. And honestly, having met both people in the relationship, it’s really a tossup.

Well, this is disheartening.

This made me sad. (And before anyone yells at me, I’m not saying I agree with anything. Merely that it makes me sad.)

Via Slate: Why We Cheat: Spouses in happy marriages have affairs. What are we all looking for?

“You would think an unhappy person would leave. So by definition they must not be that unhappy. They are in that wonderful ambivalent state, too good to leave, too bad to stay.

“That’s why an affair is such an erotic experience. It’s not about sex, it’s about desire, about attention, about reconnecting with parts of oneself you lost or you never knew existed. It’s about longing and loss.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to go ‘head and…get laid at my wedding… That’d be greeaaaaat.”

Barely 3 months at my job, I’ve been invited to my boss’s wedding.

How unprofessional is it to bang one of your boss’s relatives in a country club coatroom? Ahem. Asking for a friend…

Your joy enrages me.

Observation: I HATE overly posed wedding photos. When’s the last time you actually stood like that, with your hands all stupidly, intricately entwined? Not never.

I’ve seen some amazing engagement/wedding photos from friends, and I’d hire their photographers, but no one whose work I don’t know personally. I might just trust my wedding guests to take enough good photos to assemble a decent album. In fact, I have a friend who takes such good photos of his kids that I might ask him to do my photos as a wedding gift. (Also, the wedding photo booth trend is one of my favorite things.)

Yes, I’m also massively cheap, but I can’t stand shitty, unnatural posing. My favorite photos of me and my ex were taken by our families or friends, usually while we weren’t even paying attention. All the pics taken by wedding photographers look like someone literally told us to say “cheese.” The best part of those is remembering how, behind the big, fake smiles, we were muttering about what a jag the photographer was.

Family Sighs

Hey, guys? Crisis averted — my stepsister assures me that “It’s OK to be single.”

I guess she’d know, ’cause she stayed with that alcoholic for 15 years that time? And then got engaged a guy who’s not divorced yet but she still had his babies?

It’s good to know my whoring jezebel lifestyle is approved by such a paragon of fine decision-making.

Not to mention the cousin who brags about never eating vegetables or wearing sunscreen, is married to a guy she hardly speaks to, and refuses to help care for our grandparents, but continues to ask why I don’t have kids yet. (She has three. Because children are our future.)

The song “We Are Family” was clearly written by masochists.

Technology is the worst.

I went on LinkedIn, and looked at who’s looked at my profile. (Because I am narcissistic.)

Um, yeah. You know who’s looked at me? The wife of some guy I used to work with and sleep with back in 2003. The job I met him at isn’t even listed on my LinkedIn profile, it was that long ago.

Why does weird shit with people’s husbands always happen to me on the Internet?

(By the way, he was single back then. I wasn’t fucking anyone’s husband.)

Meeting people organically/orgasmically

A friend and I discuss the possibility of her meeting her new Person at Whole Foods.

“Damn, I gotta move back to the suburbs. I’m not meeting my soulmate at the Shoprite in the ‘hood. I can’t even find frozen mango there, let alone someone worth sleeping with.

“Personally, for my meet-cute, I’m biding my time until the next wedding I go to. I have some friends who are dating — maybe they’ll work out and I can go to their wedding in a couple years and find love with the guy I let finger me in a country club’s coatroom. (What do you mean, ‘That’s not love?’ Ah, shit!)”

You’re damn right I “take this man.”

Last night I saw porn that made me want to get married.

No, wait… Actually, I think I just want to wear a pretty dress, and be pleasured orally then taken from behind by a man wearing remnants of a tuxedo.

And then we’d eat cake.

Yeah. That sounds way better.