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to Rachel, and a break baby happens, then all bets are off. Can we talk about break babies? OMG. Talk about true pettiness. You’re having a rough time with your boo, so you go and have sex with someone else? Petty. But a break baby means you went and had sex with someone who is not your partner without taking proper safety precautions. You didn’t use a condom? What in the hell is wrong with you?! I get that you might be distraught, but come on, bruh. Come on, sis. The least you can do is make sure you wrapped up. Not only are you being careless about yourself, you’re also being careless with your partner’s health. Break babies are beautiful. (Because all babies are beautiful. Even when they’re funny looking, especially in those first few weeks when most of them look like baked potatoes — still beautiful human beings.) However, in the words of Dorothy Zbornak, the Sorceress of Shade, “CONDOMS, ROSE! CONDOMS!” Being on a temporary break doesn’t mean you need to go dip your stick into anyone, or have your love pocket 7 dipped into with no protection.
    Break babies are extreme, but baehood can go bad in much simpler ways. I’ve never been the type to check a significant other’s phone or text messages or ask where they’re going. I don’t care where you’re going, and I trust that you won’t show up and act out. We’ve set certain boundaries and expectations in our relationship, and it is your prerogative to keep those in check. It is up to you to know what you can and cannot do. If you cannot tell me about it, then odds are you weren’t supposed to do it and you feel guilty. That in itself is wrong. I did not attend any academies, so it is not my job to police you or try to catch you in any act. If I get to the point where I feel the need to do that, I’d just rather walk away, because it means you’ve lost my trust, and without that we have nothing left. Our foundation is cracked, and I’m not living in a shaky house. Leave if you can no longer be secure in what you’ve built. Fake forgiving-and-forgetting is pointless if you will always resent that person, or hold it over their head. I know myself. It’s really hard for me to get over betrayals or lack of trust. Jesus forgives; I pout. This is why it’s better for me to end things, because I will feel some type of way about you for a while. I would rather get that out of my system by myself than force a relationship to continue.
    I do what’s right for me, but of course after the breakup happens I’ll be on my couch for weeks eating all the rice and ice cream and watching movies about why love sucks. I might even call you once to tell you how much you suck. But I cope.
    You can do bad all by yourself, ladies and gentlepeople.

 
    4. Under the Knife
    You know how I know we’ve all crossed over the point of no return from doing the most with the absolute least? Anal bleach exists.
    The day I saw an ad for anal bleach, I knew we had passed the point of no return, done a double backflip to the beginning, and run three more victory laps. We are at the point where we are so bent on perfection that we will lighten the inner sanctums of our assholes to achieve better beauty. The anus is the hole the body’s garbage comes out of. We expect THAT to be pleasing to look at, too? I know for some it is a venue of pleasure (not that there’s anything wrong with that), but still . Fascinating.
    Can we stop? Can my prostate mouth be dark and brooding in peace? Why do we need our butt nostrils cosmetically whitened? Does my derriere tunnel really need to shine bright like a diamond? Come on, everybody. Do you do a photo shoot after the anal bleaching to show it off, or is this just for your own enjoyment? Like, when you’re walking down the street, newly bottom-brightened, are you smiling to yourself with the satisfaction of your own personal “Let there be