I think you're right. Staying friends with the ex, especially when you still have feelings, will make you not want to date. Because why would you? You already have a person you love and you're *almost* together. This is further complicated if you've broken up but continue to fuck.

The weirdest part of the bar wedding is that I only ended up talking to that guy because he knew my now-fiance (then indifferently-despised former fuck-buddy). That, and the fact that apparently all my college friends hang out there, so when they tell the story of the time there was an impromptu wedding at their…

Due to the overwhelmingly positive response to this post, here's a picture of us:

Me: "You want a cigarette? I always offer homeless guys cigarettes."

Or, "Living Chastity Belt." Or, "The Squick Hurk Gang."

Once I was at my friend's apartment and I was really drunk. I crawled out on his fire escape and I noticed the hot guy who lived upstairs was out, so I crawled up another level.

One time I asked this girl I knew to the senior prom.

I would always go through the line of a particularly cute grocery clerk. One day, I heard him saying he got off work at 12:30 am. About 12:20, I went through his line with some beer and snacks. He said "What are you doing buying beer at midnight?" and I said "Inviting you over when you get off in 10 minutes." He came…

It's a Panty Epoxy gallery.

She could probably teach a master class on guerilla pick-ups, I think it usually went like this...

Absolutely. Also shout out to alcohol, without which my immediate reaction to anyone approaching me is what the fuck are you talking to me for oh god please go away.

My husband and I met in grad school and didn't hit it off immediately. We got stuck in the same miserable class together on Monday nights. It talked about music history, and one night the instructor went on an endless ramble about Schubert's "syphilis attacks" and kept saying the nonsense phrase "syphilis attacks"…

This one happened to me, relatively recently.

My own started when I was working as a clerk at the library, and this guy I'd seen - and I'd also noted that he was The One That I Wanted - at punk shows came in a few times a week. I started to throw candy on his table every time I saw him, and I would not look at him and just walk away. One thing led to another…

Oh, and

I was on a terrible date at the bar at the Carlyle Hotel in Manhattan, on the Upper East Side. Some of you may remember this from a previous Pissing Contest—this was the gentleman who was a "writer" that didn't read books because he didn't want to pollute the purity of his own thoughts. I was completely, totally DONE…

It's not for everybody, no doubt. But I'm going to mourn the end of a great series.

I don't care what the haters say, it's gotten so much richer in the seasons since. The end of six ("In Care Of") might have made for the best series finale, but I have confidence Weiner will at least match, if not exceed, the achievement.