I’m a slut without the fun sexy parts

[Before I get to the 'fun' part of this post, I'm looking for a few good bloggers to keep the dog blog company over the weekends. I've already had fantastic posts contributed from Crissy, TDutchessOK, Rachel and Kyla but I need more...more...MORE!

So if you love (or hate) a dog, write between 250-500 words about it, include at least one picture or video and email it to ben.boudreau@gmail.com.

Don't want to guest post? Well leave us a comment on any post to get entered in the August giveaway competition. Then remember to check back in a few weeks for the September giveaway!]

On Friday, the newf and I packed up the four-legged kids, hopped in the car and drove off to South West Margaree to celebrate my grandfather’s 80th birthday. We spent the weekend enjoying the scenery, hanging out with my brother, my cousins and my mom and her sister.

Our relationship is grown-up (if you don’t count the part sci-fi obsession, part squeaky dog voices) – above the petty dramas. Remember that.

The reason I say this is because on the drive home, the newf remembers something he meant to tell me. He does so with a smile on his face.

“By the way, did you hear that you’re cheating on me?”

We both laugh. We laugh because I am fundamentally pro-monogamy. This is a widely-known fact. No amount of alcohol could make me wake up in someone else’s bed. Up until just recently, I felt bad if I even glanced at someone too long. Don’t worry, now we fight over who we would hypothetically sleep with. This is healthy. Ish.

As it turns out, for the first time in about two and a half years, I am once again the victim of cyber-bullying. Please take a moment to note that at age 23, I should not have to deal with bullying of ANY kind. E-bullying just makes it all the more irritating.

The last time, I learned that someone had created a fake profile for me on a hook-up-for-sex website, sending numerous people to my place of work expecting me to drag them into the stock room for a hot romp. Instead, completely oblivious, I attempted to sell them $400 boots. I didn’t find out until the profile was deleted and my fans stormed my Facebook wondering why I didn’t say goodbye/drag them away for the aforementioned romp/respond to their persistent messages.

Talk about awkward.

Now, the newf tells me that a random on Facebook (the devil) sent him a message explaining that we had a memorable night together when I was in Ottawa on a work term. It’s important to understand that any night I was not at home with my adorable cousins waiting to talk lovey-dovey to the newf over the phone was spent getting loaded and watching ANTM with my classmates. That’s basically the four month recap right there.

Anyhow, I guess I snubbed my one-night-stand in Halifax at some point in the past vague-amount-of-time. PROBABLY BECAUSE I DON’T WAVE HELLO TO IMAGINARY ONE-NIGHT-STANDS! The best part? The random’s profile that featured one picture of four untagged people – no wall posts, no info, nothing – disappeared over the weekend.

While I’m willing to battle both acne and weak joints to show my effectiveness at getting caught between adolescence and old age, I am much less willing to have to simultaneously deal with a mortgage and gossipy bullies. You should have met me in junior high. I’ve paid my dues.

On the plus side, I’m in a healthy, trusting relationship where this no longer rattles us to the point of distraught late-night conversations. Instead we laugh in the car and chalk it up to jealousy and boredom.

At least my imaginary one-night-stand had all good things to say about my…skills.

[Also, I'm hoping that this post will add some value for the many readers who have ended up here over the past year through the search keywords 'how not to be jealous'. I am not a good person to ask but the newf certainly is. Either way, I hope you find what you're looking for.]