Lesbians and Nickelback

So often you write to us, we write back, but we never get to put a face to your name. This weekend, however, in Eugene, one of you who wrote to us for advice came up and introduced yourself. We didn’t remember your moniker Cell Hell but when you said “Nickelback” we remembered exactly who you were. Here’s a flashback to Curve magazine June 2007.

Dear Lipstick & Dipstick: My partner of three years has been acting strange lately. She's been hiding her cell phone whenever it rings and she never shows up on time. About two weeks ago, we went see Nickleback in concert. When we got there, I saw her texting someone, so I looked over her shoulder and saw she was writing a girl. I confronted her and she told me I was crazy. Later that night, when she was sleeping, I looked at her phone and saw another message from this girl: "Goodnight Sweet Cheeks. Until then…see you in my dreams." I woke her up and we got into a fight. She said she had no clue why this girl was texting her and promised to tell her to stop and that she really did love me. Things were fine for a week and then a couple of days ago there was another text from the same girl. I work nights and after I’d been gone, I found a text on her phone that said: "It meant so much to me that you held me in your arms all night. I love you." Again, I confronted her and she swears there’s nothing going on. I'm so confused and hurt and not sure what to believe. I need some good advice. — Cell Hell

Lipstick: Dayum—this is tragic. And not only because she’s a big fat liar, but also because you’re letting her pin you up as the fool. But before I go there, I have a question: do lesbians really go to Nickleback concerts? Anyway, this woman is a conniving wench who should get a boot up her ass immediately. Just like that song you love, it’s not like her to say she’s sorry. Your only mistake was handing her a heart worth breaking. Dump the fart stain (thanks Rosie) and do it fast, Cell Hell. Before you go, flush her phone down the toilet! I’m not kidding.

Dipstick: Lipstick is right about everything except flushing the cell. Instead, grab it and text the girl back, pretending to be your girlfriend. Call her Sweet Cheeks, Babe and throw in a Snookums for good measure. Butter her up and get her to admit to the sexing we all know is going on. Then, from your own phone, send your girlfriend this text message: F-CK OFF B-TCH.