Lessons in Love


I try to be the most compassionate person I can be.

Instead of donating money to worthwhile charities, I will go out of my way to update my Facebook status to reflect what color bra I’m wearing (usually just a modest pair of Hello Kitty nipple tassels).


Innocent, yet whorish.

Also, while waiting in line at the grocery store, I make it a point never to yell at old people who pay for their $100 purchase in spare change and bus transfers.

If humanitarianism was a sport, obviously I would win the Olympics.

While my heart bleeds everywhere I go, I find that I do my best work in bar bathrooms. This is where my compassionate nature really shines through.

One night, while out on the town, I was in the bathroom powdering my nose when I heard a woman crying in one of the stalls.

“Are you okay?” I asked, peeking through the crack between the partition and the door.

I could tell by the way she said, “I’ll be fine I just need a minute,” that she was hurting something fierce.

I knew I had to do everything in my power to help this woman. The safety of my brand new True Religion jean skirt* with vintage patches and unique stitching detail that cost me $227.96 (with tax) the last thing on my mind, I went into the adjoining stall and crawled under the partition.

“What are you doi–”

“Shh…it’s okay,” I said, kneeling in front of her. “I’m here to help.”

According to Annie, the love of her life had just dumped her via text message. When she asked him why, his response was “Because I’m just not attracted to you.”

It was true, Annie was not attractive in the least. But since I’ve been known to suffer from reverse-beer goggles, I decided it would be best not to say anything. 

Instead, I lovingly placed my arm around her hunched back and led her out to the sink.

Annie: How could he do this to me?

Me: Because he’s an asshole, that’s why. Guys like that don’t deserve your aesthetically-unpleasing tears.

Annie:  (blows nose) I know. I know….It’s just that I really thought Mike was the one you know? It’s funny, my–

Me: Wait a minute. This Mike…he’s not an exotic dancer, is he?

Annie: No. Why?

Me: …A stock broker?

Annie: No.

Me: ….Does he sweat a lot? And have a Pilgrim fetish?

Annie: Not that I noticed.

Me: …Is his name Ian?

Annie: No. It’s Mike.

Confident that I hadn’t slept with this particular Mike, I moved on.

Me: So where did you guys meet, anyway?

Annie: Well, I was doing volunteer work at this animal shelter, and one da–

Me: Annie, wait. (places hand on Annie’s ginormous shoulder) Did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason he dumped you is because your stories are really boring?

Normally I wouldn’t be so blunt, but I could tell that she needed tough love. Unfortunately my plan backfired, as she started to cry even harder.

Me: Annie, believe it or not, I was once like you.

Annie: How were you like me?

Me: Before I answer that, let me ask you something. (squats down) If I go like this, can you see my underwear?

Annie: No.

Me: (opens legs wider) How about now?

Annie: Uh, yeah. Kind of.

Me: Great. (pulls out jiffy marker, writes “Thighway 2 The Danger Zone” on upper leg) …Now, what were we talking about again?

Annie: You were telling me how you used to be like me.

Me: Oh, right. Well, the bad news is I was lying. But the good news is that one day you’re going to forget all about this Ian guy.

Annie: His name is Mike.

Me: See? I’ve forgotten about him already. Look, I’m sure there are tons of guys out there who don’t care about things like attractiveness. Have you thought about internet dating?

Annie: Yes, but I’m a little leery. I mean, do you really think it’s possible to find love online?

Me: How should I know?? (sighs, , grabs paper towel and writes on it) Okay, here’s what you need to do. Go to your computer and type this into the search engine. Then forward it to ten friends.

Annie: Just Making Convo…is that a dating site?

Me: Uh, yeah. But it’s like a secret dating site. It attracts relationships through laughter. Also, kickass photoshopping. (looks at imaginary watch) …Look, Annie, I’d love to chat more, but  last call ends in three hours.  (starts walking toward door) If you need anything, just call me. I mean it.

Annie: Wait! You didn’t give me your phone number.

Me: Er, you know how to whistle, don’t you? Just put your lips together and…

By the time I finished, it was too late. I was already long gone.

I never saw Annie again.

But I trust that my advice has changed her life for the better.

(*thx, mistyslaws)