18 Things Girls Love To Do Alone But Will Never Admit

1. Pulling A Hair Out Of Our Butt

As women, we tend to have long(ish) hair. Sometimes, hair falls out and finds its way up our butts—by way of crawling up there all on its lonesome or swallowing it, I’ll never know. Such occasions are always exciting and if you’re incredulous then you have obviously never pulled a 6-inch-long hair out of your butthole. It’s simply never not fun.

2. Resting Hand In Underpants

Like men, when us women are alone, sitting on our couch, watching Pawn Stars, our hand will sometimes involuntarily make its way down into our underpants. And, like men, we too find it to be comfortable as well as an efficient heating technique. Bonus points if you’ve got a bush because a) it’s enjoyable to scratch, and b) it’s fun to twirl our coarse, ringlet-shaped pubes.

3. Picking Off Our Nail Polish

After painting my nails there are only 3 things I want to do, and in this order:

1. Click the keys on my computer keyboard very loudly and obnoxiously.
2. Dole out orders with lots of pointing and hand gesticulations.
3. Pick all the nail polish off.

It will suck all the life out of your nails and leave them with an orange-tinted stain, but it’s all worth it just to see your hard work peel off like sunburnt skin.

4. Snooping Through Our Boyfriends’ Phones

When we’re alone, we’ll indulge our vices even if we know that the satisfaction of doing so will be fleeting. It’s why we do stuff like snoop through out boyfriend’s phone—to satiate that need for instant gratification that we all crave. Well, that, and also if our boyfriend was dumb enough to leave his phone at our place then it deserves to be snooped.

I’ve written buttloads on snooping; I’ve weighed the pros and cons, broached its ethicality and, so far, have gathered zero useful results. All I know for sure is that the act is inextricably linked to a self-destructive disposition.

5. Facebook Stalking

We don’t want to know who you are, girl that our first and favorite boyfriend is now seeing; we didn’t even want to know that you exist! But alas, here we are—you, acting goofy at an unknown wedding and posing in front of vintage cars; and me, looking at said photos of you, trying to guess approximately how fat you’ve gotten since and whether you really do have the hips of an 8-year-old boy or if that’s just the camera angle. We didn’t want to end up here, but fact is we usually do and, as a result, will accidentally like 10 photos of her from 2006.

6. Practice Dancing

As a rhythm-less woman like myself, there is nary a moment in my day when I can practice my grind in peace and quiet. Which is unfortunate, because I need all the practice I can get. But even the times I do find myself alone at home with ample time to Grapevine, I still can never fully advance my moves, anxious as I always am that a neighbor or a passerby can see me. And so I’ll usually find myself in the one cramped and secluded corner of my apartment—the one blind spot to all onlookers—and then, stubbing my toe like a motherfucker when I go in for “the worm.”

7. Googling Ourselves

Why even ask us, dude we met last week, if we’ve seen that cute Elle Japan street style photo we’re in. Of course we’ve fucking seen it. We’ll tell you we haven’t seen it and, what’s more, we’ll be talking directly of our very bums. We may be dishonest and enormously vain, but idiots we certainly are not!

8. Cry While Watching The MasterChef Finale Alone

Because it’s sad to see someone lose their dream—and just like that!—after getting to know them so well. Then, once the sorrow wears off, a whole new flood of tears will ensue because we were pathetic enough to cry in the first place. This will last for approximately 8 hours, +/- 2.

9. Blast And Sing Along To Fiona Apple

I like to think that with every Fiona Apple song I blast, there is one sorority girl out there who comes down with a vicious case of anal warts.

There’s just something infectious about Fiona’s songs that invites us to sing along in a deep, mannish voice and writhe our hips as if we’re having a Clonic seizure.

11. Picking Our Boogers

A wise young woman once tweeted, “Good thing about going out is, when you get home, you got lots of boogers to pick.” That wise woman was me, and I have not spoken truer words since. Perhaps you’re thinking, “But a night out is like a day out. Why can’t the same be said for an entire day at work?” And to this person I say Halt these foolish musings! For, what else is the purpose of a work bathroom if not to dig deep into our nose? A night out, on the other hand, does not afford such opportunities and will thus leave us with copious dry and pickable boogers by nightfall.

12. Peeing In The Shower

You say the shower is for washing? I say it’s for peeing. Dare to tell me otherwise and you’re liable to get peed on.

I was flummoxed when I casually brought up shower peeing to my ex and he berated me for this “disgusting” habit. So I did what any vehement shower peer would do when faced with such opposition and peed on him, in the shower, the first chance I got. I didn’t tell him about it, and did it more so as a means of verifying the innocuousness of the whole act. But damn was it a proud moment.

13. Memorizing Rap Lyrics

I’ve been pulling this stunt since I was about 7 years old. First it was Salt-n-Pepa, then Will Smith, then R. Kelly, Tupac, Biggie, Eminem, and, at some point during all of this, LFO. The actual act of memorizing the lyrics is a humiliating one—rewinding 100s of times until you finally remember to say booty instead of tooty. But the end result—you, at a party, whispering Salt’s entire verse in “Shoop” into a stranger’s ear—makes it all worth it.

14. Reading And/Or Watching Weird Stuff On The Internet

I love nothing more than a good rape story on reddit, or a mama-daughter fight scene on World Star Hip Hop. But whenever I suggest reading or watching one of these with my friends they give me this hypercritical, are-you-still-seeing-your-therapist head-tilt. Hence why I do this alone.

15. Smelling And Inspecting Our Vaginas

You know how you like to smell your own farts? Well same thing goes for women and their vaginas. We’ll vomit through our eyeballs if forced to smell another woman’s vagina, but our own scent—for one reason or another—is pleasing to the nose. Also, there are lots of wrinkles and folds down there that sometimes need readjustment, which is where the inspecting via hand mirror comes in.

16. Not Cleaning Up Spills Or Stains

I’ve never liked eating pizza with other humans—there’s always pressure to be well-mannered, to eat it with a fork and knife, when all we ever want to do is try to fit the entire slice in our mouth until it becomes difficult to breathe. Which is why we’re so barbaric when eating pizza alone. There’s literally no reason for civilized behavior. Personally, I like to pare down on the breathing, while intensifying the size of my bites. I also get an intense and perverse pleasure from letting marinara sauce drizzle down my chin, refraining from wiping it off, and then letting it harden and congeal until it can be rubbed off like little flakes.

17. Pouring Ourselves “Unappetizing” Drinks

Another benefit to being alone is that you can drink alcohol however you damn well please. You don’t have to pretend to enjoy a whiskey sour and you can make as many reverse mimosas as you like without receiving disapproving glares. For those of you wondering what a reverse mimosa is: it’s a cheaper alternative to the traditional mimosa and involves lots of white wine and Orangina.

18. Playing With Mouth Gunk

Despite all of the gross habits detailed above, it’s still the mornings, after immediately waking up, that I’m grossest. I tend to think this is due to 3 main factors:

1. Inhibitions are lost in this half-awake state.
2. My eyes are riddled with sleep.
3. There is an overabundance of mouth gunk on my teeth.

With lost inhibitions, I dive excitedly into Instagram and study each photo with the same concentration my father uses to read his 3 morning newspapers. While perusing, I fall deeper and deeper into a somnambulant, unconscious-like state wherein I perform some of my nastiest habits like pull the long, stringy gunk pieces of mucus (toothpaste?) out of my mouth, roll them into little balls, and then fling them at my glass window, watching them fall…