Wait a minute. I've been given permission to do WHAT?


I need to sit down for this. OK, I'm always sitting down while typing, but this time in particular. This is huge.

Jason Mraz has been pardoned. I've been given permission, should the moment ever arise, to have my way with him without offense. Without "cheating." Without feeling ashamed immediately afterward.

(Wipe drool from lip)

And I didn't even ask. It just came out:

"I'd let you sleep with Jason Mraz."

I was shocked. Dumbfounded. Did I hear correctly? I tried to rationalize:

"Oh no, silly. I wouldn't. I'll just make out with him. Hold his hand? A hug?"

Apparently this is the New Deal of modern relationships. Each partner is allowed one pardon. Just one, and generally with a celebrity. One friend of mine is allowed a tryst with Dave Matthews. Another gets the lead singer of Rediscover. But that's a two-way deal: if she gets Wesley, her fiance gets Wesley's girlfriend. OK. Fair enough.

Why have couples begun this bargaining? Is it to say, "Don't worry, honey, my trust runs so deep I'm positive one hot, steamy night with (insert dreamy mate here) will mean nothing in comparison to the depths of our love."

Or is it rather, "Ha. Sucker. Dream all you want, it ain't never happening."

I'm going to go ahead with the latter.

So, great. I've been given permission. Anyone know where I might find him to offer a proposition? (Juuuust kidding. I would never. I mean, I, uh, might... Um. Can't. Say. No.)

But wait. I just had a thought. This means I have to reciprocate. I have to offer a pardon. Crap, fine. As long as it's not Britney Spears, a porn star, or Paris Hilton, it's a deal. What? I can set guidelines.

Besides, I just have one thing to say: Ha. Sucker. Dream all you want, it ain't never happening.