They're your high school friends. You've known them forever, or at least since junior year. You've shared life-shaping moments with them. Taken ill-advised road trips with them. Learned that mushrooms and Kahlua don't mix with them. They were your best friends in the world. But there's a problem. They are really lame. And they have your secrets.

You're a college man now. Things are different. And that carefully crafted persona you've perfected, the one where you lost your virginity when you were twelve and never played role-playing games, could be compromised with an ill-timed phone call or, god forbid, a weekend visit. So there is only one choice. You have to ditch your high school friends.

Unfortunately, this can prove harder than you might suspect. They can be a particularly difficult lot to shake. Remember, while you've been knee deep in sorority sisters for the last year or two, they've been going to community college and living at home, or worse yet, skipping college altogether and working at Chuck E. Cheese's for $5.95 an hour.

Here are a few easy steps to use when trying to ditch your high school friends. Remember these steps, because they can come in handy again in a few years when you have to ditch all your college friends. Firstly, route all phone calls through your parents. Your soon to be ex-friends don't need to know you have a cell phone (or e-mail for that matter). If they don't believe you, tell them you go to a Quaker school. I don't know what that means, but neither will they. That way you are insulated when your friends buy you that extra ticket to a Hillary Duff concert. Embarrassment and temptation averted.

Secondly, try to convince them you joined a cult. Wear a tunic. Speak in a whispered, contemplative tone about everything. Talk about Tom Cruise a lot. Anything that will spell out to them that you have broken free from the shackles of human perception and are halfway to Xenu on a magical rocket ship of love. If all goes well, they'll be the ones avoiding you. Now, if they actually do show up at your college, simply introduce them as your retarded cousin from back home. It may not be politically correct, but neither is the fact that you used to practice kissing on each other. And once you have everyone convinced that they are "'special', it won't matter when they reveal that you used to write a column in the high school newspaper about model railroading. You can simply blame the slipup on their crazy retard speak.

Lastly, and this should not be done unless they refuse to forget your promise to be friends forever, (Note, remember next time you promise someone to be friends forever how lame most of your friends are) fake your own death. It may seem drastic, but so was that time you told them that you let your dog lick peanut butter off your nutsack. Unfortunately, faking your own death can get expensive, with funeral costs and all. The fake body alone could cost you thousands. But you'll be thankful when they show up to your memorial in full Lord of the Rings action gear, and you know that, while touched, you will never have to see them again. Note, it may be difficult, but don't stay for the eulogy delivered entirely in Elfish. You're a new man now. You sleep with girls. That way of life is dead to you.

And so now you've kissed your high school friends goodbye (only not literally this time). All of their secrets can fade into the ether, never to be heard from again. All you have to do is keep track of the many-teared narrative of your life you have crafted so that, and this is vitally important, nobody ever, ever gets to see the real you again. Trust me on this one. It's not pretty. Or have you forgotten when you started to wet the bed after your parents got divorced? Rubber sheets and chicks don't jibe, and they never will.