Few things are more confusing or terrifying than relationship problems or high school. Add in a penchant for song and dance and you've got an equation for all sorts of drama and potential emotional disasters. Luckily, the students and teachers of McKinley High have me, their Dear Abbey.
That's right; all season long I'll be answering fictional questions from the cast of Glee
with real snarky advice.
In this week's column I offer advice to a professional advice giver and a confused as ever, Finn. Dear Abbey,
I lost my virginity to the wrong girl & then told the right girl I didn't. The sex didn't mean anything, but the lying does. What do I do? - Finn
Dear Cheerleader Addict,
Seriously Finn, remember last week
when I gave you one easy piece of advice to follow? The whole "stay away from ANYONE in a McKinley High cheerleading outfit." Clearly you didn't follow my advice, and now you're begging for more? Whatever shall we do with you?
When it comes to lying to Rachel and lying with Santana, you're truly screwed Finn. Even if you don't confess to Rachel about losing the big V, surely Santana will. If you haven't noticed, discretion isn't exactly her strong suit. If things are ever going to work with Rachel, even as your team mate, you better tell her about your carnal mistake. You also better go to the local clinic for a full round of tests.
And please, because it bears repeating and clearly you didn't hear me the first time: Cheerleading Outfits = Bad. Argyle Cardigans = Good.
If I See You with Another Cheerio....
I can give the best advice in the world to other people, but not to myself. So give me some good advice Dear Abbey. - Emma Pillsbury
Dear Sweet, Neurotic, Well-Intentioned Emma,
Believe me, I understand. The thing about advice, as you and I both well know, is that it is easier to give than to follow. I'm sure you've tried all the easy tactics: posing your own problems in the voice of someone else, pretending you have no problems and admitting obsessively organized defeat, so let me lend a hand.
Get rip-roaring drunk and throw yourself at Will Schuester, without clothes on. Seriously. The therapy you need to get over your issues will take years and I doubt Mr. Schue is going to stay on the market that long. While you may not remember your first time and you'll spend the morning after kissing the toilet bowl, it's the only way I see you ever starting down the road to dirtiness. And I'm talking dirtiness of the Xtina variety ... the kind you desperately need in your perfectly prim life. Embrace the erotic Emma, let go of the neurotic.
Your Advice Giver In Arms, Abbey