My friends give me that tragic tilted-head dog look every time my girlfriend texts, just because we opened our relationship for college. She suggested it, I agreed to try it, and now everyone treats me like a cuckold puppy being walked all over. I’m so done defending my own sex life at dining hall brunch. Why does everyone else get to decide I’m a victim?

First off: you don’t owe your brunch crew a front-row ticket to your relationship negotiations, especially when they act like cheap greek tragedy commentators. Here’s what’s happening: people love stuffing non-traditional setups into tidy little boxes marked 'someone is cheating and someone is crying'. When long-distance enters the mix, their brains default to worst-case soap opera scripts. But their discomfort isn't your diagnosis. The real test here isn't whether campus validates you, it’s whether your gut actually bought the ticket your mouth agreed to. If you only said yes to seem cool or keep her from wandering off solo, that pity look might be hitting a nerve because a part of you agrees. But if you genuinely want this experiment, shut down the audience. Next time someone serves you unsolicited sympathy with their scrambled eggs, look them dead in the eye: "We’re good, guys—you can stop rehearsing for my emotional funeral." Own your experiment, or renegotiate it with her. Just don't let people who aren't in your bed cast you as the casualty.