The Cock’s were devastated after hearing that their son Seymour, had killed himself in his bedroom apartment last night. Seymour Cock was found dead, overdosed on Tylenol PM and cooking oil. He was found by his partner Anderson Chickencoop just after 11pm last night.

“We were going to be married,” Chickencoop says showing his ring.

“It was his dream since childhood to be made into a $6.95 chicken sandwich at Chick-Fil-A”, Seymour’s mother Anitta Cock weeps. “After news broke of the controversy he didn’t know what to believe anymore.” Seymour wrote in his suicide letter that everything became too much, and that though his dream was to be deep fried and served to obese children everywhere, he could no longer support a company that didn’t support him.

“He was devastated to say the least,” Seymour’s father DuMour explains. “He turned to drinking and pills. There was never enough peanut oil to dull his pain.” DuMour sheds a tear and finds comfort in his wife. Since childhood Seymour had taken a liking to the Chick-Fil-A company, and their clever use of marketing an illiterate Cow’s holding up grammatically incorrect signs. Several pictures of Seymour in his annual Halloween costume of ‘Cow holding the ‘Eat Mor Chikin’ sign,’ fill ever scrapbook in the Cock’s home.
After finding out that the President of Chick-Fil-A, Dan Cathy, hand delivers money to Satan himself, Seymour’s world came crashing down. Cathy, for years, had been donating money to Satan and Adolf Hitler’s funds to kill and deep fry every homosexual in the world and serve them at every major Republican Convention.

“He was going to be famous,” Anitta gushes over her later son’s successes. “He was in movies; he was going to be a star. Seymour was in the ensemble cast of Doctor Dolittle, Babe, and played the small role of Male Chicken #3 in Chicken Run, he even had a small speaking part.” As she breaks down DuMour jumps in.

“It was like he was choking on the air around him, Chick-Fil-A was choking our little Cock.” The Cock family plans on burying their son this Saturday with a viewing Thursday and Friday evening at 7:00pm. Some famous people are expected to lend their support to the Cock Family, and come uplift and celebrate such a beautiful life that Seymour led. Those expected to attend are Chicken Little, Foghorn Leghorn, and Colonel Sanders among several others.

“Maybe he is no longer physically here with us,” Chickencoop says and he holds Cock’s ring around his neck. “But I feel like here, in this room, there is a little Cock still with us, there is still a little Cock inside us all, and that will get us all through this.”

Seymour Cock was survived by his Partner Anderson, his parents Dumour and Anitta, and his brother Dujuana.

I woke up the next day, in his parents room with the door locked completely naked. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life. I wanted the world to stop spinning long enough for me to successfully get up out of the bed and put both feet on the floor. I couldn’t remember where I was, who I was with, or who I was. The mirror on his parent’s bed reminded me really fucken quick that whoever I was, I was in need of a shower and some eye drops. The only thing I could remember was Doug crying over me being a cock tease and then it all went blank. I found my shirt and my pants, but couldn’t find my underwear. I was desperate to get out of there. I sent Ann a text. “You have 5 minutes to make morning fun before we leave”. I was desperate to leave and gave up looking for the cute underwear I had bought, so I opened his dad’s sock drawer and found some boxers. I looked for any sign of skid marks, because I am obviously not disgusting and would never wear a dirty pair of a strangers underwear. I have class. I threw them on, along with my pants and my shirt.
I opened his parents’ bedroom door and saw Doug, passed out leaning against it. THANK GOD, I didn’t sleep with him. Had I done so, I would’ve needed reconstruction surgery and would have to wear a diaper for the rest of my life. I ran downstairs to see Ann curled up next to Asshole.
“Ann lets go,” I whispered, nudging her with my foot. My nudge was more of a kick.
“What? It’s like 9am let’s sleep in,” I grabbed Alex’s arm and dragged her upstairs. Ann had enough time to grab her shoes and we were out the door running to her car. “What about your shoes,” I stopped dead in my tracks and had to remember what shoes I had worn.. Flip flops, Old Navy, $1.00.
“Ann, something’s we just have to forget, and leave behind”.

Wow Tell… I luv how u make fun of Kim Kardashian andddd Nickelback, but both r successfull and have more money then u will ever hav. ur such a jealous bitch! Lolz
-K*****

Cute spelling and grammar, K*****!
First off, yes they have money. To say ‘successful’ though… I would use that word loosely, especially when talking about Kim Kardashian. If by successful you mean she found her way into fame by letting a guy find his way into her vagina….on camera, then yes she is VERY successful. She also managed to fall madly in love with a guy…on camera. Marry him… on camera. And is now divorcing him…on camera. She is famous for allowing people to watch her shit show of a life, if that makes her talented, bravo. Send her an acceptance letter to fucking Julliard. Nickelback is ‘successful’ because of their less than classy fan base. I know somewhere in Michigan and in the deep south of ‘Merica there are some horny teenagers who are listening to them in their trailer park bedrooms and losing their virginities to their cousins. As for being jealous? I don’t think so. Maybe they will make more money than I will, but I would rather have the life I currently do, than whoring myself out making an ‘accidental’ porno.
-Tell

SERISLY?! Ur such a asshole. Kim K was so heart broken. She even wrote a letter talking about y she did it. If u actually watched Kourtney and Kim u wuld see how much of a jerk Kris is 2 her. And I love Nickleback and I am not having sex with my cuz, your reasons are dumb and not true.
-K*****

Well as much as I LOVED reading her heartfelt letter written by her agent was, I am not bying it. I am sure the E! network spent a lot of time finding footage to make Kris look like a REAL asshole, to support Kim, their cash-cow. Truth is they are a married couple, and every couple will have battles, Kim K., wouldn’t know about that though. ALSO I have looked at your spelling Honey-b, and maybe you haven’t had sex with your cousin, but you parents might have.
-Tell

Just another day on facebook… Classy classy.

Naturally as a college student my life is extremely busy balancing classes, drinking, and facebook. I am starting to come to realization that I probably spend more time on facebook than anything else, which I am strangely okay with…Upon spending so much time on the overly hyped social networking site, it has come to my attention that I have failed… I have failed to teach our youth the rules of facebook, and what is not socially acceptable… Well to be honest some of it is very socially acceptable, but that is just because some members of society are assholes… So here are my tips to you…
________________________________
So you want to post a photo…

Listen bitch you can post as many photos as you want but we need to set some ground rules.

1.) Bitches, I really hate it when you post photos of yourself in the mirror with your new hair cut and you leave the caption ‘a new me’…. No, it’s the same old you, giving us your best ‘high school girl duck face’ with a super shitty $5.00 hair cut.

2.) Photos of yourself in the bathroom mirror throwing up the deuces with AGAIN the duck face is never socially acceptable and you should be ashamed of yourself… You bikini belongs outside by a pool or beach, not on your body in the bathroom mirror.

3.) MEN for the love of Bob Saget STOP with the gym photos. We get it, you go to the gym. Not only do you look like a dbag posting them up on facebook, but you also look like a dbag taking the photos at the gym.

4.) PICNIC… I don’t know what bitch sat on her computer on a Friday night, don’t play we KNOW you aren’t going out with ‘friends’ and decided it was ok to edit the SHIT out of every single photo you have ever taken, but knock it off, the shit gets old.. I don’t know how many hot pink borders I can look at with ‘bff 4ever’ written across it.

5.) LAST.. We get it, you party. Not every photo of you has to be with your hip popped, mouth open wide, and red cup in your hand. We have graduated from that…well most of us have.
_____________________________

Airing out my dirty laundry…

So you are in a relationship?

1.) I am happy someone could look passed your physical flaws but you are really putting a lot out there by letting us know ‘it’s is complicated’. You are either dating or you are not… We don’t need to know you guys are having problems or that you guys are fucking around on each other… Get your shit together, and save your complications for your teenage pregnancy.

2.) It is obvious you aren’t in a relationship with your best gay guy friend, girl. So please stop putting up that you are married to him, and obnoxiously call each other wifey and hubby. It makes us all view you as being desperate.

3.) ‘Straight’ guys. You are not in a civil union with your buddy… Maybe you guys are secretly barebacking one another behind the local Wendy’s, but lets call a spade a spade.. You aren’t in a civil union, and we aren’t buying your little just-for-fun ‘bromance’, anymore… We know.
______________________________
Omg. Uhh. Lolz. #soinlove

So you want to update your status?

1.) RULE NUMBER ONE ON FACEBOOK not everything is a milestone. You can only have so many epiphanies in your life and so many ‘starting over’s’, please don’t bore us with every time you hear a new Taylor Swift song that relates to you, you suddenly are completely changing your life around.

2.) Grow some balls people. If you are writing a status about someone specific, come out and say it. ‘I really hate some people’, is really getting old to read, be specific, tag that bitch into your status, tell them they should’ve called you back after you let them pork you.

3.) A status update is for when you do something significant… I don’t care if you are doing laundry, got a new phone and ‘need yo numbas’, or sooooo sleepy. Save your status for big things that have happened in your life.. like ‘the condom broke’, ‘knew he would come out of the closet sooner or later’ or my personal favorite ‘buzz driving on my way to AA’… Save your status updates for something clever, I just gave you three super good examples.

I hope that some of this stuff was helpful, if you have created several of these offenses, you should probably your ass off facebook… and for those parents who read this, and didn’t find the help you were looking for..SHAME ON YOU for being on facebook. NO… NO!

“At first I didn’t know what to think,” girlfriend of 15 years and cousin Alice Onetooth said, “I thought he would come out of the closet and turn out to be one of them gays.”

Later on Ed elaborated on his excitement to his loved ones, and quickly wiped away their concerns.

“Now that we are giving them freedom hungry homo’s another right to do what heterosexuals can, all the homos will be running to them recruiting offices’ to sign up,” Ed says taking out the cigarette in his mouth so he can have another swig of his beer, “they probably are signing up for all the gay sex they think they are going to have. But nancy boys can’t fight, and they will probably all die in the Iraq.”

After it became clear to Ed’s father Prick Smut, he relaxed and put away his pocket bible.

“As soon as I found out my son was happy cause he knew the gays would die in Iraq, I was relieved,” Prick says while petting his wife’s hand, “I didn’t want to have to tie him down and throw the bible in his face again, we already did that after we saw him flipping through the channels and paused at an episode of ‘Sex in the City’”.

First as much as I love a good joke, telling anyone to kill themselves is a little extreme and NO one no matter how horrible of a person they are, deserves to be told their life is too insignificant for living. So for you…Samantha Myers, or whatever the hell your real name is, I really hope no one has taken your threats to heart and has killed themselves, and congrats, you finally made it onto my website.

So rather than completely deleting the website over a few choice words with people, I have decided to spend more time on here, my website needed more love. What better way to do that than to tell you how I got it started?

I walked into my English class at IVY tech last year and was talking to someone about an awful date I went on… The date wasn’t really something I wanted to do… But my ex was hung up and obsessed with this guy, so I decided to go out on a date with him, obviously that is a shitty thing to do, but sometimes you just got to piss people off and ruffle some feathers. That is a story for another day though.

I was telling some kids in class and they were cracking up over how I was telling my story and told me I should write it down, and send it in as an essay in class. I laughed at the idea, but then thought about it… What if not only did I read it to the class, but I also posted it for EVERYONE to see. It should be obvious to everyone by now, that I apparently LOVE embarrassing myself.

It wasn’t easy when I decided to start writing… I was super busy and the only time I had to write was during class. I sometimes find it difficult to write in a confined setting. Ivy tech is one of those settings. Not only is in cramped and uncomfortable, but I feel like I should always carry a shank on me, waiting to stab someone at any moment. My first day of class I made sure to dress in jeans… I didn’t want to be caught DEAD in the same pajama pants as the girl next to me. This was almost dress code, pajama pants!

I repeatedly tried to start a blog, while completely ignoring my professor talking about APA formatting, but the site was red flagged because it said ‘shit’ in the title. After staring at my professor and his crazy eye for an hour and a half, I ran to the library to see if I could start writing a blog there. The computer worked for about five minutes, but as time went on it got red flagged again and shut down. Eventually, after jumping from one computer to another, I got super pissed and walked up to the librarian in the computer lab.

“I am trying to write a blog, and I the internet keeps going down,” I sweetly smiled at the homo behind the counter. At first I just stereotyped him as a homo because he was a male librarian, but then when I saw him jump to his feet and rush over to the computer with a little switch in his run, I knew. His hands flew across the keyboard as he typed in code after code trying to assist me.

“Shit show?” He said disgusted and looked up at me… I knew he thought I was a freak, and to my surprised he looked disappointed.

“Oh yeah,” I began, “it’s not what it sounds like, it is just about dumb things I have done, there is no actual poop in the site.” I was beat red in the face, I could only imagine what he thought I was putting online for the world to see. He probably thought I was taking pictures of my shadoobees and posting them online.

“You can’t do that here,” He said and walked away. Embarrassed and ashamed, I logged off and ran out of the room. I would have to do this long handed and later transfer what I wrote to a computer when I got home, where no one would judge me, and I couldn’t think of a more cliché place then Starbucks.

I walked in with a notebook and pen, and ordered some ridiculously overpriced. It took the woman forever to make my order, and she asked if I wanted to purchase a bottle of water. I picked it up cause there was a large sign stating that every bottle they sell helps relief in Africa for water wells. I looked at the bottle, 2% of sales? Really? That is it? I put the water bottle down and shook my head at the stand, for SHAME! Eventually I grabbed my coffee and made my way to an empty table and began to look around waiting for inspiration and trying to recall funny and embarrassing things that have happened to me. This was my first mistake. Instead of brainstorming I looked out into the room and could see everyone, and all their pathetic and hipster glory.

First off I hate when people call themselves ‘unique individuals’ because they wear thick framed glasses, enjoy coffee, and are reading Walt Whitman. Actually that kind of makes you like everyone else trying to be an individual. You know who I am talking about. The kid that acts like he buys all his clothes from goodwill and other second hand stores, but really he got them at hottopic and H&M and just dirties them up before he wears them… Yeah well this place was FULL of them.

The first thing that caught my eye was the earthy mother that was sitting with her young friend discussing politics. This wasn’t what caught my eye, what caught my eye was that the woman, with absolutely no hesitation, whipped her boob out and started allowing her child to feed. First you should know I am a feminist. I love women’s rights and all that jazz, what I don’t love is seeing nipple while drinking a warm dairy beverage. It makes me feel the need to ask for assistance in putting milk in my coffee.

Eventually the woman’s friend must have came to her sense and told her girl to cover her shit up. The woman threw a blanket over her breasts and the baby’s head, and continued her conversation like nothing had happened.
Immediately I started writing as fast as my little hand could. Public boob was gold. ‘People would read this and eat it up’, I thought to myself. That was until the asshole sitting in front of me had a throat clearing fit.

I looked at the twenty some, semi attractive, guy sitting in front of me, clearing his throat and pulling at his hair. Obviously this is one of the schmucks who comes into a coffee shop, cause he likes to make it aware to everyone that he is a writer.

“Everything okay?” I grunted. I knew I was giving him exactly what he wanted, the chance to talk about himself, which I was kind of okay with. At the time I was single, and thought it may be a cute story when he and I got married that we met at a coffee shop.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I am writing a multi-genre research paper on the middle class American and how I believe they are attacked too much with increases in taxes when the government should clearly be taxing the upper-class.” I looked blankly at the guy, who took a sip of his coffee- or more than likely his hot chocolate. He didn’t have the balls to drink coffee. Obviously he thought he was a good liar, there was no way in hell he was writing a paper like that on his dumb Macbook.

“That sounds awful. Is there much you can find in that? Poems, songs, lyrical essays? It’s multi genre, how many genres are you suppose to have?” I asked him as I sipped on my black coffee. That is right, asshole, I was drinking a man’s drink, mostly because black coffee was the cheapest thing there, and for some reason I was having a Puerto Rican attack and NEEDED some black coffee….Either way it was a MANS drink….or at least a gay mans drink… I guess men drink whiskey or tigers blood.

“Oh, no it’s not too bad, and its only five genres,” he stumbled over his words. What an awful liar. I rolled my eyes and begin to write about this tool now in my notebook. Five minutes of no talking went by until eventually the guy began clearing his voice again. DAMMIT! If you want someone’s attention why not just say ‘hey fucker let’s talk’, or start taking off your clothes like mother dearest did earlier. A nipple wink and I would have gotten the hint from the guy that he wanted to talk.

“So what are you writing about?” He finally asked, leaning over to see my writings.

I tilted my notebook toward myself so he couldn’t read it…this guy was such an asshole, and had no right to read what I was putting down, it was my business and I didn’t want him to see what I was writing about him. I flipped my notebook over and I smiled at him.

“I am writing an erotic novel about animals,” I said without missing a beat and smiling. “It’s kind of like ‘Animal Farm’, but with more sex and less politics”.

The guy looked at me and nodded. He then left his seat and moved to a couple tables down. He had finally got my hint, and by the looks of it, was a little creeped out by me. I finished my coffee and ran out the door, I had about 20 minutes to get home before this coffee was going right through me, and I would start shitting my brains out, plus, that ‘Animal Farm’ idea wasn’t going to write itself.

Tell-
We use 2 talk befor u started to completely ignore me because u thought u were ‘too good’ for every1, but I just wanted to let u kno that I was going thru ur fb page and would like 2 tell u that ur not clever, or funny. U get a rise out of saying foul and uninteresting things, and u have got 2 be one of the most shallow ppl I kno, also news flash… just because ppl r pointing a camera at u, doesn’t make u a model, it makes u pathetic.
-Chris

________________
-Hey girl Hey!

Sorry, I had to put your message above through spell check. Clearly you have never read my website, because you would have known how extremely unintelligent I feel people are who can’t type in complete sentences without using numbers.

I got your message, and after giving it to a 13 year old girl to translate, I would like to respond to it. First, I didn’t stop talking to you because I thought I was ‘too good’ for everyone… I just thought I was too good for you. Also, your advances toward me and your constant need to send me photos of your ridiculously small penis started making me uncomfortable. But don’t worry I have a tip for you. If you manscape your giant bush, it may make your penis look a little larger.

I am glad you felt the time to be passionate and pissed off enough to go through and read my entire facebook…if that isn’t crazy stalking fun, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS- But I would like to say that I never had claimed I was funny, other people told me that, and I can’t help it if people think I am super funny.

As for the whole ‘modeling’ thing. I would never in a million years call myself a model, but if a guy or girl who owns their own photography company call me and asks to take my photo, and call me a model, well I wouldn’t want to take that away from them. Also I look like, super cute in all those photos. But your photos of you half naked in the bathroom mirror at McDonalds shoving your hands down your pants are JUST as good as mine I am sure of it!

-Tell

Ps- if you send me an address I would be more than happy to send you a dictionary…or maybe draw you a map to your local public library!

_________________________
Tell-

U r probs the most condescending boi I have ever met. Just becuz a guy takes pix of himself in the bathroom dsnt make him less intelligent than any1 else. And if u must kno I am sending u these thru my cell, so it is easier to type it out in txt language.

-Chris

_____________________
Hey CHRIS-

I don’t think your pictures in the mirror of a glamorous Walmart bathroom make you any less intelligent than the next person. I just think those pictures make you easy… No, I think you are unintelligent because you think that texting is a language and you spell boy with an i. But anyways, I am going to delete and block you from facebook now, not because I love doing the petty high school BACK and FORTH internet arguing where nobody wins… but because I have commitment issues, and feel like this ‘friendship’ is over.
Stay In school…. Oops, I mean. Have fun working at the local fast food joint!

-Tell

I dated this guy named Drew for a while. The relationship started off romantic, we talked all night one day, till the sun came up, and just really overly cliché shit like that… It was a great relationship until I found out he was fucking the brains out of his ex boyfriend on the side… Which was disappointing because his ex was very unattractive, not to mention Drew would always talk about his ex’s bent penis… I didn’t even have a bent penis, so I must have really been treating Drew like shit.

Every time we fought, I hated knowing that I was to blame, or that I was in the wrong, so I would completely flip it around on him, and make myself out to be the victim. Thank God I was blessed with the ability to cry on command.

Super bowl weekend I convinced Drew to drive up to my Dad’s from school, and come to a party. He got there and I kept saying one rude thing after another, on accident of course. I got yelled at for arriving to the party late, and I was taking it out on him, naturally.

One of my best gay friends had text me and said hello, and was letting me know about his current boyfriend, I didn’t realize Drew could see my phone and I had called my friend ‘babe’ in a text, completely platonic and in no sort of way was I hitting on him… To my surprise Drew flipped out on me, but I had no idea why. He just walked away and was rude for the rest of the night. On our way back home he pulled over into a park so we could ‘talk’.

“I don’t want you calling me pet names anymore!” He shouted as soon as the car took an abrupt stop.

“Oh- okay. Can I ask why?” I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. I nervously played at my, then long, hair. He sounded like a crazy person, and he was sweating… I thought I would end up chopped into pieces and left there in the snow.

“Tell don’t play stupid. I saw your text. You shouldn’t be calling other guys ‘babe’. So I want you to just call me Drew from now on. Nothing else.” He was mad, and I knew it was my fault… I didn’t know how to put the blame on him. I was struggling to clear my name, and make me look like the good guy.

“First off, get your story straight, that GUY was my gay cousin!” I managed to blurt out as fast as I could.

“You call your cousin, babe?” He had a look of awkward disgust on his face.

“FUCK YOU!” I was feeling like I was backed in a corner. Like Hitler when he was asked what happened to all the Jews. “You don’t know our relationship, we came out together!” This was a complete lie, neither of us had come out to each other, but it seemed believable, so I ran with it.

“Whatever, I just don’t want you calling me pet names anymore.” He was stern about it and started up the car. I quickly turned my head toward the window, away from him.

“Your best friend constantly is calling you her husband, and all I hear is you calling her ‘wiffey’, NOT TO MENTION you guys are married on facebook. And your other friend, Derrick is constantly calling you boo, ALL THE TIME! And I just have to sit and pretend I am okay with that? How do you think I feel? It breaks my heart!”

My head was still turned toward the window, because I had realized I had him cornered and I was laughing. Not a laugh out loud, gut wrenching laugh, but a nice belly bouncing kind.

“Babe are you crying?” Drew asked, sounding very concerned. This caused me to laugh even harder, which apparently appeared to sound and look like was crying even more.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” I shouted, pinching my leg as hard as I could, trying to straighten up my act. “My sister always told me no guy is worth seeing you cry.” WHAM. I had him in my hands now!

“Come here,” He said, I quickly threw my face over his shoulders, to hide my smiling face from him, as he patted my back. “I am so sorry, I had no idea that bothered you so much.” He said as he gave me a tug in our embrace… Without him looking I pulled my phone out and deleted the texts I sent to my ‘cousin’… I thought to snap a picture of me smiling and eventually tell him about it all. Maybe have a good laugh… Instead I convinced him a few days later it was snowing anthrax, Dr. OZ was doing a show on anthrax and I was bored. How else am I supposed to get my thrills?

RULES OF DATING
THINGS TO NOT DO WITH YOUR EX
1. Don’t penetrate your ex
2. Don’t get coffee/dessert/dinner/afternoon delight with your ex
3. Don’t have phone sex/skype sex/snail mail sex with your ex
4. Don’t take annual blood tests with your ex
5. Don’t give your ex a full body wax/massage/candle drip fun
6. Don’t eat anything off of your ex’s body or their cat
7. Never feed your ex, they won’t stop coming around (if you give a mouse a cookie)

THINGS THAT AREN’T ROMANTIC
1. Making your ex hold your hair back while you vomit
2. Vomiting at all
3. Pooping with the door open
4. Pooping in their home on the first date (avoid pooping around them all together)
5. Urinating or other water sports
6. A surprise facial (you know who you are)
7. Making a porn and posting it online together (several of my friends have done this one)
8. Having sex in the back of their car in a target parking lot
9. McDonalds….Not only is it not romantic, but it is also not a date
10. Shaving your ex…anywhere at anytime. If they are in a coma, let the doctors do it.

THINGS THAT YOU SHOULDN’T DO
1. Don’t have sex with their identical twin
2. Don’t think about their identical twin while masturbating
3. Don’t take nude photos of yourself and send them to your coworkers
4. Don’t show nude photos of your boyfriend/girlfriend/rabbi to your coworkers
5. Stop having sex with you professors
6. Stop reusing dirty needles (I am talking to you friends on the west coast)
7. Don’t make them watch Rent/Phantom of the Opera/Hairspray
8. Don’t read Twilight together
9. Don’t refer to ex’s as ‘past loves’
10. When talking to them on the phone to your boyfriend/girlfriend/rabbi, get their brothers dick out of your mouth
11. Be honest… You didn’t get that from a toilet seat, girl.

I realize to some of you this may not have been useful, and I apologize. So for all you boys and girls out there, if you can’t follow these rules a pretty basic one is to stop fucking other people when dating someone. Usually that will clear things right up. If you can’t do that, wear a chastity belt, you sluts.