How does one even casually date another? Like, what are the rules? Are there any? Or do you just emptily fuck them and take them to dinner, ask them questions about things you don’t really care about and then at some point in the future decide they’re boring and move on?
Telling dirty jokes or anti-feminist ones even though the punchlines kind of disturb you just to prove how chill you are.
I’m tired of feeling like I have to explain myself if I’m caught with Marie Claire in my hands, like it’s such a big fucking deal. Should I start carrying some Hemingway as a backup, to prove that I’m not nearly as stupid as you think I am?
Dancing in the middle of the room when nobody else is.
If any of these resonate with you, you might be faking it too.
The kind of girl that wakes up at 5am to straighten her hair and preps herself the night before, picking out a chic and effortless outfit is NOT me at all.
3. You start to get a little crazy, but only a little crazy.
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. How do you find or get or aspire to being a girl with girl swag? Can you? Is it all based upon how you were raised in your formative years?
Why do we constantly try to define it, and chase it, and turn it into some quantifiable and commodified THING? Why do we think one person — the person we dub “cool” in the moment — has the answers?
Glitter keychains that said things like “100% Angel.” (Bonus points if they said “100% Devil” on the back.)