We live in a Facebook age where our every move is showcased for the world to see. Even personal matters, like ending a relationship, are no longer private because of the Newsfeed.

Valleywag tells the story of a distraught reader whose status change went virtual via his Newsfeed. To avoid having this happen to you learn how to correctly manage your Facebook privacy settings before the break up goes down - you’ll thank us (and Valleywag more specifically!) later.

It always worked on TV. When Donna Martin and David Silver broke up on 90210, they stayed friends. When Ross and Rachel broke up on Friends, they were eventually fine hanging out with the group.

So is it any wonder that I always held out hope that the same things were possible for me?

Despite the fact that everyone told me differently, I always thought that my ex and I could defy all odds and stay friends long after our year long relationship came to an end. After all, it didn’t end badly. It just ended.

We still loved each other and neither one of us could imagine life without the other, so we convinced ourselves that we could do it. We could stay friends.

The only problem was that we were not acting like friends. We were still hanging out all the time and holding hands and doing things that I did not do with my other friends. We were still talking on the phone late at night and buying each other gifts just because. Read More »

When it comes to ending a relationship gone bad, there’s a right way to make the break (and it doesn’t involve leaving an “It’s over, I’m sorry” note for your significant other to discover under her door or in her inbox). In “Signs It’s Time to Break Up with Her” you learned when the break-up is inevitable, it doesn’t necessarily mean you want to do the actual breaking-up. Instead of procrastinating, we have a few ideas to guide you through this unpleasant confrontation.

1. Tell her first
Don’t let her find out you want to break up with her from her cousin who knows a girl who overheard a guy who talked your dad who thinks he heard from your best friend. You obviously care somewhat about this girl if she is your girlfriend. So, out of respect for her, it’s only right that she be the first to know about it. Read More »

`Asexuality. Is it a real thing? If so, what does it actually mean?

In an article by David Jay in American Sexuality Magazine, he explains what asexuality is, and how a person can have a satisfying relationship while identifying as an asexual individual. Jay should know—he’s speaking from first hand experience.

“One of the quirks of being asexual� Jay says, “is that classifying and prioritizing relationships becomes a mite tricky.� In his article, Jay explains how he sees himself as a bit of an ‘intimacy ho’. Unlike some asexuals who prefer a solitary lifestyle, Jay admits to desiring relationships (sans the sex) from many, many different people.

Upon learning early on that a meaningful relationship had to include sex, Jay rebelled. There had to be a way, he thought, to feel what he wanted to feel without the socially inflicted constraints.

“It wasn’t long before my close friendships started to look and act like dating, and it wasn’t much longer until they broke away from that and started to become something else entirelyâ€? he writes. “Relationships, I realized, can be fun, in much the same way that I imagine sex is fun for sexual folk. New types of pleasure started popping up all over, and it seemed like there would never be time to explore them all. They ran the gamut—from the intellectual to the physical, from the deeply empowering to the utterly frivolous.â€? Read More »

If I had a dollar for every time I heard a girl complain about how they always date the bad guy and are not attracted to nice guys, I would be a freakin millionaire by now. It’s the typical college girl dilemma: Do you go for the mysterious and enticing bad boy who will most likely break your heart or stick with the comfortable sweet guy who is more of a good friend and absolutely adores your every move?

In my dating experience, I have gone back and forth. After getting my heart broken by the asshole frat guy, I opted for a more conservative wholesome dude. The only problem was that I had to force myself to be attracted to the latter and eventually gave up on that after a few months. I have now settled somewhere in the middle with my current bf. Or at least I’ll keep telling myself that.

Regardless, I do think that nice guys tend to get the short end of the deal; I stumbled upon a website recently with many entertaining reasons why women tend to prefer bad guys, from a womanMore…’s point of view.

Here are a few of my personal favorites from the list that I found funny and actually somewhat true: Read More »

He's charming. He's hot. He's confident.

You don't believe the nasty rumors that he's not the boyfriend-type. Sure he's slept with a fair share of the girls on campus, but what college guy doesn't have a couple of notches on his frat paddle?

Before you let your wishful thinking get the best of you, here are a few hints that he is a bona fide player (brought to you by Cosmopolitan.com):

1) He envied Alex from The Bachelor just a tad too much.

2) He has four toothbrushes in his bathroom, and all but one are pastel.

3) He explains that all girls in his vacation photos are friends.

4) He committed your number to memory without having to write it down.

5) Instead of sweets, his candy jar is filled with flavored condoms.

6) He can't walk through a room full of women without lifting up his shirt and rubbing his abs.

7) There's a lava lamp/camcorder/massage-oil collection by his bed.

His cell phone rings more times a night than a doctor's does in a week.

I had just come back from an internship in Washington, D.C., working for a senator from Ohio, and was looking forward to cruising through my last semester of college. It would be one last slide of enjoyment. Then I discover my girlfriend is seeing this dude I kinda new, one ugly f—. Trip something. He looked like Groucho Marx. It was one of the first nights back at school, and I was at a house party off-campus. Liz and this guy, Trip, were there. With no warning or anything - with no 'Hey, we need to talk; things haven’t been going well with you and me; I’m seeing this guy' - she had started hooking-up with him. How could she be interested in him? But there they were, enjoying each other’s company in plain view, she hanging on the punch line of each one of his dumb jokes. It was like they were taunting me, or something. I flipped out, right then and there at the party. Made for an ugly scene, the whole nine. As Trip and she sought refuge and were driving away in her Volkswagon, I went out into the driveway and actually punched her driver side window as she roared by. I was crazy with jealousy, with her betrayal. This wasn’t part of the plan?

Another night, I pulled her out into the hall of her dorm room, when she opened the door and I could see him inside. I remember I slapped her before I knew what I was doing. She started screaming like I was knifing her. I took off, running through the long, silent hallway before doors began to open. The rest of the night - the semester - was a blur. I was basically drunk the whole time, and not in a good way. There would be occasions that I would try to talk to her, but it was pointless. She had changed, and I didn’t even recognize her. Three months in DC, and this? Then it became a case of her friends warning her to stay away from me. But by then I had thrown in the towel. I was harmless. So, I finally just chose to ignore her, to not even try anymore. A great two-year relationship was done. I couldn’t wait for the school year to end, and I didn’t even stick around from the graduation ceremony. I wanted out.

That summer, I worked on a resort island. I painted houses and lived in my VW camper bus: a new venue for a bender. I tried to push Liz from my mind, but she always crept into my thoughts. I drank with the best of drunken sailors, and that helped some, I guess. I had no way to cope, no tools, no one to turn to. I was going to have to ride this out on my own. All along, what I couldn’t reconcile was why she dumped me. For him? There was no comparison. And then to see the changes in her: It was like she had been brainwashed. Maybe time would help me; meanwhile, the hours and minutes were pretty raw to deal with. Then after three or four months, when the summer tourists had gone back home, I got a call from Liz in mid-October, at about the time the winds from the northeast began to ruffle the skin of the Atlantic. She wanted to see me. She had broken it off with Trip, she said. She had been seeing a psychiatrist. She wanted to get together again. Basically, she wanted to have her cake and eat it, too. Over the months, I had imagined this moment, imagined what it would be like to hear from her again. And I had also imagined the different replies I would give her. And one of the replies I had imagined came out, beyond my control, like I was a witness to it: 'I don’t think that’s a good idea.' It was like a spell had been broken. With that, I was on my way to moving on.