By introducing a quiet person to a group as a “quiet person,” the quiet person is instantly a) categorized without having input, perhaps ruining any chance of making their own first impression and b) denied the option of being seen as a normal social individual, in the case that today is one of the days that the quiet person is going to try to enhance his conversational output to “normal.”
This was not how it was supposed to work. I never set out to be half of that couple you hear about. The ones that because of high rents or long leases or the great dysfunction are forced to live with each other long after their relationship has expired. Yet here I am. Freshly twenty-seven and living with my ex-boyfriend.
When I finally broke, it was very difficult to un-break. I cried a lot. I didn’t understand why this was happening to me. I’d only had a handful of sexual partners and the only unprotected sex I’d had was with boyfriends who had been checked for STDs. I was immunised against HPV when I was 21—a fact that scared me more than anything, the knowledge that this thing could have been hiding inside me for up to 5 years completely undetected.
And it’s not just that the characters find themselves in depressing situation after depressing situation (well, they kind of do), it’s the fact that the scope of the novel makes every depressing instance so much more tragic because you’re highly familiar with what lead each character to the sad place they’re in currently.
If a celebrity’s Twitter is entertaining enough, it can make them relevant again. It’s possibly one of the most powerful tools in the industry today. If you’re not starring in any noteworthy movies and your agent is screening your calls, just make Twitter your new job.
When I got home I threw myself across my bed, pizza still in hand. I continued to cry, louder now, and reveled momentarily in my hideous self-indulgence. I fell asleep to the sound of my own sniveling. In my wrought sleep I dreamed vividly of a man I used to love. I dreamed of him getting married, of my total, gut-wrenching heartache; I woke up feeling exhausted, used up physically and emotionally…
I have really good taste in book and movies, and then when it comes to music, I just sort of give up. When I start making a mix CD for a friend, I start off with a couple of good tracks by, say, The New Pornographers or someone — and then I start feeling an inevitable drift towards the shitty, shitty songs that I actually love. Then I start coming up with excuses in my head: “Maybe X also likes the Spice Girls,” I say to myself, knowing that this is not, in fact, the case.
So here I am, an almost-26-year-old-woman sitting alone in half darkness, writing this to you with Colgate Total all over my face. I’ve been Googling and self-diagnosing, and the internet seems to think that toothpaste will help resolve our issues. But I don’t know Pimples, I really don’t. The second I think I’m free of you, you just pop up again, completely unexpected. Would it kill you to call in advance?
There’s nothing worse than wearing pants—nudity is a wonderful thing. But you’re at your most vulnerable when you’re naked, at the mercy of emotions and the elements, which are both liable to kick your bare ass at any moment. Here’s a guide I prepared (based on my own experience) to help you navigate the minefield of the ubiquitous birthday suit in the context of a relationship.
You’re so bored. It’s six p.m. and there is nothing good on T.V. so you want to have sex with someone. Depending on your situation, you will either have to seek it out like a hunter. You will go to the bars and zero in on your prey, or you will have sex with someone who is required to have sex with you i.e. your GF/BF.
Thanks to the internet, there are a myriad of different ways you can miss your ex. You can go on Facebook and lurk their life without you. Oh look, there’s a picture of them at a party looking completely normal and happy. And oh my god, they’re writing cute and clever things on someone else’s wall. How are they able to do that?
After college, you’re thrusted into the real world to Find A Job and Be Self Sufficient, and in turn, you become aware that the people in this world think binge drinking after college actually = alcoholism and a potential sign that one doesn’t have her shit together.
Bitches always think they’re so funny. Whenever they say something that was kind of screwed up, they’ll quickly be like, “That wasn’t bitchy. I was just making a joke!” Well, guess what? Your joke wasn’t funny. It was just bitchy, and bitchy does not always translate to hilarity!
You’re eating a Subway sandwich with your friend when all of a sudden, you want to have sex with someone. You try to avoid it by focusing intently on your sandwich. Yummy. Pickles, turkey, lettuce, naked flesh, private parts, mustard. Darn it! You’re looking at chipotle mayo and getting aroused. Why must life be so cruel?
I can’t say it has been easy learning to live without you. Heading into year three, I can say I have started to make real progress. I can talk about your death without crying. I can look people in the eye and tell them how you died. And now I finally feel like I can be honest with you. Okay, not with you per se, but I can be honest with myself about you.