I always find it hilarious when people in relationships say, “WHAT, YOU DON’T TRUST ME??” when they’re caught in a sketchy situation.

It’s not a matter of trust. It’s a SKETCHY situation. 

It’s the same thing as when your high school teacher found an answer key written on…your leg.
(Uh, for example.)

“What, you don’t trust me?” 


Only cheaters say that. 
Case in point: Toby, this guy my friend Sarah dated for several months.
Sarah and Toby immediately got into an intense relationship, where Toby said and did all these wonderful things from the get-go. They went on vacation together and slept at each other’s houses every night. He was pretty much perfect.

Sarah said she had never been with anyone who had been so sweet before.

But then she peeked at Toby’s phone screen when it chirped early one morning and saw a text message from a number not saved in his phone.

“Good morning!” was the message from the stranger.

After some, ahem, digging, Sarah saw Toby’s first and only text to this person: “I’ve been thinking about you all day”



A SKETCHY situation.

“Who is that??” Sarah demanded. 

And that’s when Toby went into a very involved explanation.

“It’s a girl I knew in college, who I just found out has cancer,” he said. “I was telling her that I was thinking about her.”


“Why isn’t her number saved?” Sarah asked.

“Because my fraternity brother just sent me her number.”


Could that be the explanation for an innocent situation? Sure.

But instead of proving it, or showing Sarah the messages between him and his fraternity brother, or even telling her the name of the girl, Toby became defensive.

“WHAT, YOU DON’T TRUST ME??” he asked.


And then Toby then flipped the switch from being super sweet to ignoring Sarah’s calls and texts after that.


What kind of response is that???

Sarah said Toby then disappeared completely, not answering his phone three weekends in a row and then saying he “just fell asleep.”


So basically sketchy on sketchy on sketchy.

A five-year-old could have seen right through him.



I’d say he gets an F, much like I did on my high school Spanish exam.

Wait, scratch that. Not an F. 

An S!!! S for sketchball.

Still, a fail.


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