I have a confession to make.

I used to cheat in high school.

I was struggling in Geometry, so I stole the answer key for the textbook quizzes, then made copies of them and sold them to my classmates. It wasn't the most ethical thing, I know, but I knew I'd never use Geometry in my real life, so I focused on my entrepreneurial skills instead.

I also cheated on my high school boyfriend.

I got an A in geometry, but I failed that test of life.

It took me as long to garner forgiveness as it did to figure out why I even did it. But I did figure out right away that I never want to betray someone ever again. I wrote my cheating off like an underage juvenile offense — because everything before 18 doesn’t count and gets scratched off your record, right? Except when it comes to karma. And I've accepted the karma of being cheated on in my future relationships. I threw a boomerang, and it came back around.

So why do we cheat?

If you're always wondering what's on the other side of door No. 2, then why even close the door and be in a relationship? It's not fair to lock someone in while you're off wandering through the neighbor's greener grass … or Suite or Butter.

I have come to the conclusion that I cheated because I wanted to resurrect that nervous excitement you feel in the beginning of a romance, the one that has a tendency of wearing off after you get comfortable in a relationship. And rather than being honest and addressing this to my boyfriend in fear of losing his security, I went behind his back to fill the void he couldn't. I wanted to have my cake and chocolate frosting. But those weren't butterflies, I was just hungry for something more. But once that "Za-Za-Zu" wears off, which does faster than alcohol, you're stuck with the "Za-Za-Eww" — a guilty conscious, bad karma, and a broken heart you're responsible for.

So before you go crawl into someone else's bed, remember that when you make that bed, you'll have to lie in it, alone.

Since when did monogamy become something you have to continually work on in a relationship to maintain it?

I have an elongated uvula — that flap of skin that dangles between your tonsils in the back of your throat. And when I breathe, it whistles. I whistle while I sleep — snore, if you will.

That's right, I am one of the 45 percent of Americans who experience occasional snoring, particularly when my allergies flare up or I've been drinking.

My best friends whom I've had since high school know this all too well about me, so they give me my own room on girl's trips. And my boyfriends and cuddle buddies past unfortunately are well aware of this too. I've woken up with a pillow fort build around my head before. That was a nice gesture, as I'm sure he wanted to suffocate me.

I went to Charlotte Eye Ear Nose & Throat Associates clinic to get this checked out, which entailed getting a long cord with a light shoved up my nose and down my throat.

"Let's get this fixed so you can have a boyfriend at least," the nurse said to me.

I learned of my nasal deformity and was given a prescription nasal spray to open my passages and was taught some useful tips to avoid snoring, which will come in handy for your next sleepover.

• Alcohol relaxes the muscles in your tongue and throat and causes you to snore ... so don't pass out.

• Obstructed nasal passages from allergies and colds clog your nose, thus breathing becomes snoring ... so rinse with a Neti-pot before bed.

• Being overweight is one of the major symptoms of snorers ... so that's more motivation to not get fat.

• Avoid sleeping pills, sleep on your side rather than your back, and tilt the head of your bed upwards four inches ... so make your own little pillow fort.

Bulky throat tissue, a deviated septum and sleep apnea are other causes of snoring. Surgery is an option, but I'm a holistic hippie, so I found some herbal supplements to help: Passiflora Incarnata and Scuttelaria Latenflora. I could go on about the dangers of sleep apnea and encourage you to also make an appointment at Charlotte Eye Ear Nose & Throat, but I don't want to put you to sleep and make you start snoring. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

My rumored and assumed sex life is far more eventful than my actual one.

But give me some credit here, people ... no, I've never slept with Tucker Max, but at least that ass-sumption makes sense considering I went on a book tour with him.

Rather, he spent the entire tour making fun of my sex life:

"This is my tour manager Brittney. I'm not sleeping with her, have never slept with her, and will never sleep with her. But she's single, so you guys can hit on her if you want. But you probably won't get anywhere with her unless you're an old redneck or a black football player."

Why would he say that? Let me explain ...

a) I have a big butt and dark hair and skin.

b) I've allegedly dated Michael Vick.

I didn't know about it, but I've heard it several times, so it must be true, right? I literally ran into him once at the Virginia Tech dining hall before he ever played a game there. Does that count as dating? My junior year, I rescued a pitbull from a fighting ring that I now realize was likely Mike Vick's. Does that count?

Funny how a completely ridiculously untrue rumor that I "dated Michael Vick" traveled from Virginia Tech to my hometown in Harrisonburg, Va., all the way down to Charlotte like a word-of-mouth US Weekly.

A girl who went to Virginia Tech told her boyfriend who worked for FOX, and the next thing I know Brotha Fred is making jokes about it. I guess when you're in the mass communications field, a rumor travels a lot further and faster.

Well, a guy I went on a date with not too long ago asked me said rumor:

Dude: Did you ever date Michael Vick?

Me: NOOOOOOOO! That rumor is like herpes, I can't get rid of it.

Dude: (skeptical) Have you ever dated a black guy?

Me: Ummm ... Why does it matter?

He, in so many words, basically said it mattered so much that he couldn't date me if I had.

So, is he racist or insecure?

Now, I can understand him having an issue with me dating a dog-killing football player, but a black guy in general? That, I don't get.

I asked an ex-boyfriend-friend about it, and he said white guys get intimidated by girls who have dated black guys because of the myth that they have huge dicks. And therefore their dick will seem small to her, making her a penis fly trap.

It's bullshit ... the theory and the myth. Trust me, I know. The ex-boyfriend I was inquiring about this to, a skinny white short nerd, is more well-endowed than the tall, built black professional athlete I really did date. (No, it wasn't Michael Vick)

Isn't it the law to be an equal opportunity employer? Well, that should apply to dating as well. A guy's color or penis size really has no effect on how he'll treat you. I get that we're in the South, but maybe we should be more open-minded about this. Girls don't discount guys just because they've dated bikini models and skanks.

"Jungle fever" is not contagious. Don't worry, I'm not going to give it you.