Dear Trying to Stay Switzerland, 

Gab:
Oh, sweetie. You’re not Switzerland—you’re a human being with boundaries and a calendar full of meetings you didn’t ask for. Gossip is workplace currency, and opting out will make you look suspicious. The trick is to become just useful enough to be looped in, but emotionally noncommittal enough to be boring. Think: eyebrow raises, hmm sounds, and one-word pivots like “wild” or “huh.”

Offer no opinions. Reveal nothing. Be a beige wall with great shoes.

Spence:
To be clear, the only thing worse than gossip is performative moral superiority about gossip. If you're going to disengage, do it without a monologue. Just quietly go back to your spreadsheet like the rest of us cowards.

Gab:
Exactly. Don’t scold, don’t moralize. Just say “Oh I hadn’t heard that” and immediately change the subject to something neutral and annoying—like HR policy or ergonomic chairs. You’ll bore the gossip out of them.

Spence:
Or just start a vague rumor about yourself. Then no one knows what to do with you, and they leave you alone out of fear. That’s my method.

Gab:
That or become the printer expert. No one gossips in front of the tech support.

xoxo - G+S

Dear Burned but Still Composed, 

Gab:
If someone’s out there misquoting you in the wild, you need to assume you’re famous and being slandered by Page Six. Do you panic? No. You give them nothing but poise, suspicion, and possibly a red lip. The key isn’t to react—it’s to control the narrative. You don’t storm in. You arrive. Calm. Icy. Asking questions like a lawyer who already knows the answer.

Spence:
And just like celebrities, your public image is built on what you don’t say. You confront them in private. One-on-one. No audience, no group chat crossfire. Say something like: “Hey—I heard you’ve been saying things that don’t line up with what I know to be true. Can you clarify that for me?” It’s calm. It’s surgical. It makes them sweat.

Gab:
And if they deny it? Smile. Say “interesting.”
Then go home, light a candle, and quietly remove them from your emotional LinkedIn.

Spence:
If you play it right, they’ll be the ones wondering what version of you is being discussed next. Stay classy. Stay scary. And never forget:
You’re the main character. The tabloids just work here.

xoxo- G+S

Dear Gut Feeling, No Evidence, 

Gab:
First of all, “turning into a cliché” is often step one on the road to clarity. Congratulations—you’re entering your Suspicion Era. Welcome. The water’s cold, the instincts are screaming, and your boyfriend’s probably typing with his phone tilted away from you like he’s hiding nuclear codes.

Spence:
Is he cheating? Maybe. Is he emotionally lazy? Also maybe. The point is, cheating doesn’t always start with evidence—it starts with inconsistency. Watch what doesn’t add up: timelines, tone, tech behavior, and tiny shifts in ritual. Humans are pattern-based. Cheaters screw up the pattern.

Gab:
Also: if you’re googling this, something is already broken. People in safe relationships do not write to digital strangers. You're not seeking truth—you're seeking confirmation.

So here’s your line:
“I’ve noticed some things feel different lately, and it’s making me uncomfortable. Can we talk about it?”
Do not say “I think you’re cheating.” Say you feel distant. Let the silence hang. Cheaters panic in silence.

Spence:
And if he gets defensive or flips it on you? Cute. Tell him you’re just trying to feel secure in a relationship you care about. If that’s a problem for him, it’s not a mystery—it’s a verdict.

Gab:
Bottom line: you don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes. You need to be your own lawyer.
If you don’t like the energy, leave the room.
And take the playlist password with you.

xoxo- G+S

Dear Collateral Chaos, 

Gab:
Ah yes, Scandal by Proximity™. You didn’t start the fire, but you were holding a Solo cup near it when the photo was taken. Congratulations—your reputation is now crowd-sourced.

Here’s the thing: people will fill in gaps if you don’t. So instead of denying it or spiraling, own it early and louder—preferably with humor, style, and plausible deniability.

Post the meme before someone else does.
Screenshot the chaos. Add “Me, accidentally witnessing someone else’s divorce in real time” or “Didn’t realize I RSVPed to an HBO pilot”—you get it.
Keep the tone light, the distance clear, and the drip immaculate.

Spence:
Translation: don’t issue a statement. Issue a meme. It works because people will assume you're either too chill to be involved or too chaotic to be culpable.

Gab:
Exactly. Humor gives you power. It resets the vibe. It lets you control the frame—literally. And if anyone still asks questions? One sentence:
“Oh god, no—wasn’t my drama. I was just near it. Kinda iconic though.”

Spence:
And if you ever do something actually scandalous in the future, this sets the perfect precedent: “They joke about everything. Who even knows when they're serious?”
A reputation built on uncertainty is surprisingly durable.

Gab:
In summary: meme yourself. Reclaim the frame. Stay unbothered. Dress better.
That’s the advice. That’s the brand.

xoxo - G+S

Dear Loud But Loving, 

Gab:
First of all: if you’re worried about oversharing, it means someone already flinched. Either your friends gave you the face (you know the face), or your boyfriend did the post-vent spiral where he’s suddenly weird around your best friend because she knows what he cried about in April.

Let’s be honest: yes, everyone talks. The question isn’t “should I share?” It’s “what narrative am I creating?” If you only share the ugly stuff, your friends start to forget the relationship is three-dimensional. You turn your partner into a group chat villain. That’s not honesty—that’s brand mismanagement.

Spence:
Also: oversharing is less about content and more about consent. If your partner’s unaware you’re broadcasting their darkest moments, you’re not “venting”—you’re leaking. Even if the leak is…tastefully told.

Gab:
So here’s the rule:
You get one or two trusted narrators. People who love you and want your relationship to work (even if they secretly hope for drama).
No mass sharing. No podcast-length monologues at brunch. Keep the group chat PG-13.

Spence:
And if you're sharing for validation—not perspective—pause. You’re not looking for clarity. You’re crowdsourcing loyalty.

Gab:
TL;DR?
Yes, you can share. But curate. Protect what’s sacred. And here’s the uncomfortable part:
If you’re willing to broadcast the worst parts of your relationship like it’s a cautionary tale... maybe you already know it’s over.
You’re not protecting it because you don’t believe it’s worth protecting. And that’s not honesty. That’s an ending in disguise.

xoxo - G+S