So you've finally ended your relationship with the chain-smoking-American-Idol-watching leach that sucked the life from you like a manic-depressive vampiress with pretty nice tits. You go to parties, hoping to meet freshmen who are sexually loose but still disease free, but you find that your long stay in a "relationship" has left you socially debilitated. So what do you do" you fuck your ex-girlfriend.

The call comes at 3am when the parties are dying down and her loneliness, wine drunkenness, and absurdly slurred speech are in full tilt. 30 minutes later you're back in bed with the slag who stole your t-shirt and soul" now she's back for your self respect.

When she asks if you still love her things go from bad to worse. When you say yes things go from worse to "you're probably going to hell." When she says she still loves you, things go from "you're probably going to hell" to "you're going to hell after you go to Express for Men to buy khakis."

You finish the deed and do everything in your power to bail, but you're unable to pry yourself free from her vice-like spoon-clutch. Guilt washes over you like the shower that you didn't take that morning. Panic sets in. What have you gotten yourself into? You're out of the frying pan and into a really bad relationship. Like Pam and Tommy minus the good looks and fuck-tape (but with a way bigger cock).

You wake up in the morning and stealthily escape while she brushes her teeth and realizes what a mistake it was to call you. You're out the door and just like that it's over. Or so you think.

Back at your apartment the nightmare is over, but the introspection begins; things you vaguely remember doing, saying, and putting your mouth on torment your conscience. You begin to worry that someday a higher power will hold you accountable for your actions; you'll have to answer for what you've done. You'll also have to answer for jerking off 3 times a day. Both will be difficult to justify.

When the next weekend comes, again you're out on the prowl. You turn up the charm but are repeatedly turned down by good looking girls, then moderately good looking girls, and later just girls. You are about to resign yourself to the fact that your evening will end with a self administered hand-job and an episode of Entourage when your phone rings. The voice on the other end is inaudible, but still familiar. The ball's in your court now big guy. What's it gonna be"

Tom is CollegeHumor's resident asshole. If you have questions or comments on this article feel free to drop Tom a line at AskTomAnything@Yahoo.com