So, she offers you this doctrine: "I don't want anything from you. We can just have a purely sexual relationship." It sounds like music to your ears. You achieve the kind of happiness that Zen masters aspire to teach their students. You want to celebrate your lovemaking ability and thank God for the whorish ways of your newly acquired sex junkie. However, nothing is what it seems.

So, after the next few times you do the forbidden dance, her doctrine of happiness gets sullied with the following amendments: "From now on, we're always using a condom. I don't know what diseases you have," or "Every time you sleep with another girl, I want to know about it," or "From now on, you can't come over to my apartment drunk," or "You can't call me drunk," or "I'm never doing that or wearing that or bringing you that or sharing my girlfriend with you ever again because that kind of behavior is what women do for their boyfriends and you're not my boyfriend, asshole. We're just friends with benefits."

And after all that bitching and whining, you find yourself wondering what exactly the benefits are.

But it's cool because her friend says that all she wants is a sexual relationship as long as you always tell her about all the women you're with and take her out to dinner, you know, once a month or something, just to be nice.

At any rate, by this time, you're hooked to the sex and you want to keep the slut-friend happy (though not too happy) so you take her out for dinner and meet some of her friends.

Pretty soon you're getting a call from your alleged friend-with-benefits and she's saying that she hates you and how dare you behave like this and all this drama crap usually reserved for actual relationships.

Then, before you even know what happened, you're breaking up with a girl you were never even going out with.

(An abstract by Nathan DeGraaf daily at The Nate Way)