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" Ben and I had our first argument last night. About Miley Cyrus of all things.  We had spent a lovely afternoon at a street fair near my apartment, and were walking back to my place. We had somehow gotten on the topic of Miley&amp;#039;s &amp;quot;scandalous&amp;quot; behavior of late, and the Perez Hilton drama, and Ben called her a slut. &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s harsh,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;And way undeserved. Do you know anything about Miley Cyrus&amp;#039; sex life?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Okay, she&amp;#039;s acting slutty. Is that better? She looks like a total whore, all the time.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Oh my god, can you stop throwing around words like &amp;#039;slut&amp;#039; and &amp;#039;whore&amp;#039;? We&amp;#039;re talking about a 17-year-old girl here. And you know what? When I was a teenager, I wore too much makeup. And would have dressed a lot more provocatively if I thought my parents would have let me out of the house. It&amp;#039;s what teenage girls do.&amp;quot; Maybe it was the PMS. Maybe it was the fact that we&amp;#039;re starting to get comfortable around each other, that they honeymoon period&amp;#039;s over, and now we&amp;#039;re two real people in a real relationship. Or maybe it was just the fact that I&amp;#039;m not comfortable with my boyfriend casually calling a 17-year-old girl a &amp;quot;slut&amp;quot; and a &amp;quot;whore.&amp;quot; But I kind of went off on him about it. And when he didn&amp;#039;t get what the big deal was, it kind of turned into A THING. Brad was out when we got back to my place. I poured us some lemonade, stewing, and then suggested we head out to the backyard.  &amp;quot;K.,&amp;quot; Ben said when we were seated at the table outside. &amp;quot;I really don&amp;#039;t understand why you&amp;#039;re so mad.&amp;quot; I sighed. &amp;quot;I know, and I&amp;#039;m pretty sure that if I sit here and explain it all again, you&amp;#039;re still not going to, and then I&amp;#039;m going to be more upset. So let&amp;#039;s just drop it.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Okay.&amp;quot; We sat in silence for a minute, then Ben got out his iPhone and started typing. &amp;quot;What are you doing?&amp;quot; I asked, annoyed. Ben held up his iPhone, which was displaying his Facebook page. &amp;quot;Ben is very sorry he called Miley Cyrus a slut,&amp;quot; his status read. I couldn&amp;#039;t help it. I laughed. &amp;quot;Jerk,&amp;quot; I said, giving him a shove. &amp;quot;We have a totally awesome story to tell people now, you know,&amp;quot; he said. &amp;quot;What&amp;#039;s that?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Our first fight was about Miley Cyrus. How great is that? Whenever our friends start new relationships, and tell us about their lame first fight, we can be all &amp;#039;You think that&amp;#039;s crazy? Our first fight was about Miley Cyrus&amp;#039;.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;That would be a great blog,&amp;quot; I mused. &amp;quot;Couples&amp;#039; first fights.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;No, it would be a terrible blog. But then we&amp;#039;d send ours in and people would be all like, &amp;#039;Greatest. Story. Ever.&amp;#039; We can tell --&amp;quot; &amp;quot;What were you going to say?&amp;quot; I asked. &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t remember. I lost my train of thought.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;You are totally lying to me! What were you going to say?&amp;quot; Ben sighed, his face red. &amp;quot;I was going to say, &amp;#039;We can tell our kids about it someday,&amp;#039; and then I stopped myself, because we&amp;#039;ve only been dating for five minutes. Okay?&amp;quot; Once he said that, I definitely couldn&amp;#039;t stay mad at him. I&amp;#039;m just glad I wasn&amp;#039;t the one who said it, because I was totally thinking it, too. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a8720/bedroom-blog-062810/>