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Happy Monday!  Here’s another story about a crazy person.

You remember those spy movies where the sexy woman seduces the man by getting him drunk, being a gorgeous cock tease, and then extracts some critical piece of information from him? Lindsay attempted to do this to me on Friday night. I got drunk, passed out early and she stayed up reading Food Network Magazine and reading all of the text messages in my kick ass iPhone. I know, sounds like I’m dating a crazy person, right? Well, I guess you’re right…she’s a little nutter. Now, I think some men would be upset by the fact that their distrusting girlfriend searched their kick ass iPhone for evidence that will destroy their relationship. I understand that reaction. I mean, what if I had been cheating on her? I would have been SUPER pissed if I had been cheating on her. I mean, it takes a lot of skill and scheduling to coordinate two relationships, and for her to ruin it by not trusting me; well that’s just hurtful and I’d have to think long and hard about whether or not I want to be in a relationship with someone who is that distrustful. Am I right fellas? Or what if I was addicted to texting pictures of my genitals to strangers? I’m not, but what if I was? For her to rob me of the imaginary joy I get from texting strangers pictures of my weenie would be wrong. I can’t imagine her finding those pictures and supporting my recreational hobby of showing strangers my reproductive organs. Or what if I was a hit man for the Russian mob? She starts snooping around on this deadly assassin’s kick ass iPhone, and then the next thing you know she’s gone against the family and someone has to “disappear”. Then I would feel terrible about cutting the brake line on her car. So, once again her actions would have a very negative impact on my life. Ugh…the nerve of untrusting people.

However, I did not react that way. I barely reacted at all because I’m not a philandering, cellular sexual pervert or a Russian mob assassin. When you’re guiltless, you are free. I use that freedom to pick on her insecurities. She’s looking at my text messages (on my kick ass iPhone) because she’s insecure about our relationship. She doesn’t understand why I’m with her or something. I don’t know anything about anything, especially relationships – I’m just pulling opinions out of my ass…I’m pretty sure I’ve read these opinions in a Cosmo magazine or some other women’s news magazine about sex, boobies, waxing and weight loss. But, it’s fun for me to fan the flames of her irrational thinking. From now on every time my kick ass iPhone rings, I’m going to step out of the room and say,

“Excuse me, it’s my new girlfriend that doesn’t have a gag reflex. You guys would love each other. Too bad you’ll never meet her”,

or “Honey, I think I might be the father of a cinnamon-skinned child in Detroit. That was Panther from the Pussycat Club. Something came back positive”, or “I can’t believe that she just proposed to me via text! Mistresses can be so aggressive when they see something they want.” The possibilities are endless. You can have as much fun as you want toying with her emotions. You can be mean, you can be flippant or you can be silly and over the top, but just know that you’ll always be right fellas. You’ve done nothing wrong, which means you’re untouchable. She’s the one that has the blemish on her record now, so if you’re a sadistic boyfriend and find joy in making other people squirm, then enjoy some of my tips for surviving a nosey, relationship detective girlfriend (I recommend you use a lot of sarcasm and wink after every joke you say, or else prepare to have your eyes clawed out).

She apologized immediately and I could see the remorse in her eyes, like a child who just crapped their pants in the mall. She knew she did wrong, but it’s nothing that can’t be cleaned up and fixed. Of all of the horrible things I’ve texted (mostly to comic friends of mine) she only found one text to question me on and it wasn’t racist, homophobic or graphically sexual (I know…I was surprised too). It read, “hey babe getting a ride from jimmy n stephanie i love you”. First, any detective worth their weight in salt would instantly recognize that I use punctuations in my texts. Secondly, I don’t know a Jimmy or a Stephanie. Thirdly, I would never use “n” as an acceptable substitute for the word “and”. That’s why there is an ampersand symbol. Lastly, I don’t get rides home from anyone. I drive drunk like a real American (I’m messing with you! I was just “buzzed”). Anyway, it was a text message that my friend AJ sent his wife because he left his phone at work and we were getting a drink after work last Saturday night. But Nancy Drew thought she had stumbled onto a possible clue as to why I was absent from last Saturday’s evening plans.

“I got the bastard right where I want him!”

I’m not upset because I did nothing wrong. I’m just amazed at how many women do this. I’ve never felt the need to spy on someone. I put my faith in the fact that she wants to be with me, spend time with me, and talk to me (Seriously, WWJD? I’m pretty sure he’d respect my privacy…never mind, bad example. He can read my text messages with his magical powers, so it’s a moot point). She’s never given me a reason to spy on her, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never given her a reason too either. So, why is it that women feel the need to start digging around looking for reasons to ruin it? I think it’s a stereotype of men that is bullshit. Once again, women’s magazines and other tripe rags tell women to be “vigilant” and “defensive” in relationships because ALL MEN stray…eventually. That’s not true. I don’t stray. I don’t cheat. If I’m happy I stay, like a good dog. It’s already tough enough to a “nice guy” in this world and it seems to be a case of double jeopardy because they’re afraid it’s “too good to be true”. Well, to thy own self be true and, that’s just not my bag. I was far less worked up about this whole subject before I started analyzing this situation and writing about it. Once again…Lindsay’s fault because she asked me to blog about this. Also, I think my best quality is always being able to convince myself that I’m always right. Now that’s another stereotype of men that I can support*. Got to run. I need to go text this 16-year-old El Salvadorian girl a picture of my penis before I get to the gym to improve my body so that other women will find me attractive.

– THE END –

Jay

* Grunt like Tim Allen from Home Improvement

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