Ari Eastman

You might not even need to have sex. This song is an actual orgasm.

The “is there a Tinder for friendship?” search

You feel like Oprah, so generous with your driving. YOU GET AHEAD OF ME! YOU GET AHEAD OF ME! YOU ALLLLL GET AHEAD OF ME IN THIS LAAAAANEEEEE!

Are you lonely this February? Let me help!

You leaned against the fence and told me about your family. I wanted to just kiss you and hug you and look at all those stupid, beautiful lights with you.

“So you didn’t text me back, but you sent me a Snapchat. Ok?!?! I’m chill. I’m breezy.”

Insomniacs fall into nostalgia too easily. When it’s just you, you and all this lonely, you’ll start to dive into memories you normally wouldn’t in the daytime.

Don’t try to look up the manual. I can tell you there is no step-by-step procedure.

We tend to overcomplicate love, but the truth is, it’s fairly simple.

“I hate everyone except you”

That night, you were just a dime a dozen in Hollywood. But for the first time in so long, I came alive when you spoke to me.

I’ve seen you all over. I know how you look, how you smell. The sobering look in your eyes when something reminds you of your own unimportance.

Let’s say you are a penile Hercules, that Johnson is so large and in charge, it practically has a six-pack. Still doesn’t give you a reason to be cocky.

Every song that’s ever given me tingles. Every hug that reminded me why humans need to touch. Every moonlit secret that traveled from my lips to yours.

You think there is an olive branch in my eyes, but I am not one to surrender. Wave your flags and admit your own defeat. I will break them before they ever have a chance to break me.

This is my boyfriend. We are the same age. Do not call the cops, I’m fine.

“Youuuu were always on my miiiind. Oh, yooouuu were always on my miiiiind.”

She will deflect and bite back with sarcasm. She self-deprecates, calls herself messed up like it’s as casual as her first name.