Passive aggressive behavior is probably on most people’s list of annoying qualities in another person. Scratch that, passive aggressive behavior usually falls into the category of legit reasons to banish someone for your life. I have never been pro passive aggression, in fact, I get rather peeved when someone pulls the hot/cold routine on me. I think my thoughts on passive aggression and its unfailing ability to make any situation worse is probably shared by most of you. Over the past week or so I have posted on the complexities of friendship, especially girlfriendship, and many of you commented that the tendency for girls to engage in passive aggression was one of the number one reasons you did not pursue female friendships. I was totally on board with this popular sentiment until I realized that not only have I been acting all passive aggressive myself this week, but I was glad I had.

I love my best friend, I love my boyfriend. These two people who hold such special places in my heart should love each other like I love them. In theory, if I have enough in common with both of them to have such a strong bond with each, shouldn’t the two of them also have the potential to form a real relationship with each other?  It should be an all out love fest whenever the three of us get together…except it’s not. ‘Tis sad but true, my best friend and boyfriend do not quite get along. If I am honest with myself, I could have easily foreseen this. All they have in common with each other is me.

I love a hero. It’s hard to resist those devastatingly handsome leading men who duel evil at great personal cost. And yet, I have more of a thing for the sidekick. Sure their characters are underdeveloped and their emotional growth is equal to that of a chia pet, but sidekicks are severely underrated. Just because the sidekick wasn’t born with an ultra cool destiny or figure out how to get bitten by a radioactive spider doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve love. Besides for the tiny fact that sidekicks have an annoying tendency to die, here is why the sidekick is undoubtedly better boyfriend material.

My boyfriend just came back from a semester abroad in Paris—and he came back a smoker. I am not a smoker. Never have been, never will be. I couldn’t smoke during high school as I was dancing professionally for an opera company, and by the time I got to college it just didn’t seem like a big deal anymore. Smoking has just never really been on my radar; I know it’s bad for you, obviously, but I don’t feel the need to go protest outside Phillip Morris.

I’ve never dated a smoker because I never liked a guy that did smoke. I am not sure if it’s because I don’t like smokers, or none of the guys I was into happened to smoke, or if there is any difference between the two. Maybe if they had smoked I wouldn’t have been attracted? Impossible to know. All of that has changed now.

“He’s Just Not That Into You” wants to teach the women of this world a lesson. But you know what? Sometimes us ladies just aren’t that into you, gentlemen! Guys are just as clueless when it comes to reading the signs. Some of the best-selling book’s rules hold true for both sexes, like, “if they only want to see you when they’re drunk,” that’s totally a bad sign (duh!). However, women have their own set of subtle brush-off techniques. After countless boring dates and awkward interactions, we’ve decided to let you studs in on our secrets. We’ve cut through the BS and compiled the signs that she’s just not that into you.

Facebook, like nuclear technology, is a tool that can be used for good as well as evil. And there are clearly some people who lack the ability (or desire) to use either responsibly. One of my all-time favorite Facebook stories involved a recent college graduate backtracking it to the old Alma Mater (it wasn’t Tucker Max) on a recruiting trip. He went to a neighborhood watering hole, flashed some of that first-year cash and, later, worked on his night moves with a fine, young coed. Unfortunately, he knew she was going to Facebook (it’s a verb now) him and he still had a few days in College Town, USA. So, he did the prudent thing and changed his status to Single. He and his old old girl were on the rocks and he thought he’d enjoy the rest of the trip. This was how now ex-girlfriend found out. She was dumped by Facebook. And because this is neither Vietnam nor the Wild West, we decided to implement some rules of etiquette for Mark Zuckerberg’s handiwork. After the jump, the top 10 rules of etiquette for using Facebook responsibly in and around relationships.

One thing I learned before I got married is that nobody loves to talk about weddings more than women who just got married. They’ll grab on to any socially acceptable opportunity to relive their experiences. Now, I’m one of those women who’s full of tips on how to get through your wedding day. One day, maybe you can pass a few of these dos and don’ts on to the next girl when you go to blab about your wedding.

“Dinner and a movie” may sound like the most boring, clichéd date ever, but I think movie dates are hot. When you go to the movies with someone, you learn a lot about them: what kinds of films they like, whether they pay for the tickets, how they behave in the theater. You may not be talking during the movie, but there’s a lot to be said for body language.

Before my husband and I could have a Catholic wedding, we had to attend Pre-Cana. It’s like Driver’s Ed. for engaged Catholic couples. In theory, it’s a great idea. Couples are counseled en masse on a wide-range of topics, including compatibility and conflict resolution within marriage, the theological meaning of marriage, and Catholic rules couples might like to follow (like those regarding birth control). But we weren’t too excited about the prospect of our Pre-Cana.

After almost six years, a wedding, and a house, there aren’t a whole lot of “firsts” left for my husband and me. In a few weeks, we’re adopting our first pet. When we have some spare money, I hope someday we can take our first trip to Europe. Maybe one day we’ll have our first child. But in the meantime, one of those rare “firsts” is coming up, and it’s our first Christmas as a married couple. It also happens to be the first Christmas I’ll spend away from home.

“Sean recorded private webcam conversations with his girlfriend and put them on his blog. When she finds out, things go from bad to worse.” I’m not going to spoil “Dumped” by saying too much about it, but suffice to say it’s about a guy who gets dumped, and it has a surprising twist. Thanks to Kasia at Current for sending it.

Dear Ladies: Before you don’t return my call, allow me to explain something: I am a rebel.

You thought you had it all figured out. Marry a rich guy, you’ll never have to work, and you can spend the rest of your life shopping. Unfortunately, the global recession has thrown a wrench into your well-crafted plans. Now that sugar daddy bank accounts are shrinking, trophy wives are discovering they may be s*** out of luck when it comes to living the good life. In the UK, a trophy wife named “Katie” finds out she’s going to have to cut back on her mani-pedis and seaweed wraps—not to mention having her black AmEx snipped in half. “You loser!” she screams at her husband. “You’ve destroyed my life!” Trophy wives are becoming “Toxic Wives,” as their love for their significant others dwindles in tandem with their hubbies’ bank balances. Divorce rates are rising, and “for richer, for poorer” no longer applies. One wealthy husband turned to his wife in the middle of the night and asked her if she’d love him if he lost everything. Her reply? “F—- no!” As it turns out, most toxic trophy wives aren’t leaving their husbands to join the work force. They’re looking for new rich men to replace the newly poor ones. [Telegraph]

There was one point during my wedding-planning process that I was afraid I was losing my mind and becoming what I feared and hated most—the bridezilla.

Not long ago, I met a guy that reminded me of that sexy NPR storyteller Ira Glass. Instantly, I fell in nerd-love with this doppelganger. After dating for a while, though, we realized we had only one thing in common: sex. So we decided to be friends with benefits. According to a Michigan State University study, sixty-percent of college co-eds have been involved in an FWB relationship, and plenty of my thirty-something girlfriends were doing it to stay satisfied, so I figured I’d give the laid back, no-romantic-attachments approach to getting laid a whirl. A year later, faux-Ira and I still hang out and hump. After our most recent rendezvous last weekend, I began to wonder what I’m doing. What are the real benefits to friends with benefits? Sure, now I have an in-case-of-sexual-emergency-hit-Glass-lookalike. At the same time, I’ve started to realize my situation is causing me to question the meaning of friendship, challenging my chances at romances, and wobbling my emotional stability.

Earlier this week, we found out that President-elect Barack Obama and Michelle Obama shared their first kiss over Baskin-Robbins ice cream and he actually asked permission before leaning in. This got me thinking about my past first kisses. Like Barack (yeah, we’re on a first name basis.), my current boyfriend asked permission before he kissed me. It was our third date and I thought, “Can’t he pick up the signals that I’m dying to kiss him?” Heck, I was ready to kiss him on the first date, but he was a gentleman and waited an appropriate amount of time before things got physical. What do YOU think about asking permission before a first kiss?

Last week, I gave the thumbs-up to a piece I had read on Dumb Little Man that advised would-be-lovers to make people love them by making them take care of them. I’ve changed my mind.  Sure, it sounds nice in a fairy tale, when this advice may have made sense, but it’s 2008! So I said, “…the exhausting trials of getting a man to love you warrants the easy use of a little Psych 101” but then I realized that relying on a man for help, and him relying on you to want help from him is vaguely “co-dependent”.

Every time a girl goes bossing her boyfriend around, coddling him into helping her when she’s perfectly capable herself, Elizabeth Cady Stanton rolls around in her grave. So, if you want a dog, go to the pound, don’t make your boyfriend your bitch.  Being a damsel in distress is lame and transparent and in the end, being that kind of girl only makes you and your man look bad, feel bad, and act bad(ly). We ladies have ourselves and that is all we were given because that’s all we need to get by. Start realizing all the things you’ve gotten done right by relying on yourself and you’ll attract the right kind of man naturally. And when he finds you, open a pickle jar for him instead!