Chelsea Fagan

When you meet someone for the first time, realize that you know nothing about them. You see race, gender, age, clothes. Forget it. You know nothing.

No one is pumped about moving back in with their parents. No one is like, “Sweet, after all of this time developing myself as an individual and getting to taste the rich luxuries of having people over whenever I want, I can’t wait to go back under the passive-aggressive rule of my parents at the ripe old age of 24.”

It’s important to have that internship position where you are getting the coffee for the person who gets the coffee.

Because when we are saying goodbye to someone, we’re not just talking to them, we’re talking to the person that we are at this very moment.

No one is turned on by your Craigslist Casual Encounters-style glamour shots. Just be yourself.

You’ll say to yourself, “We just fight a lot, we’re both hard-headed, we both want our way a little too much.”

Assuming that they are the source (and solution) for our body issues.

There are great yawning ravines of distance between “humoring your overtures” and “seeking you out to talk to you on their own.” And that is a distinction we can always make, even if we’re not ready to admit it.

You have a cup of coffee in one hand, and with the other you browse each stall and shop for the perfect products to make your dinner tonight.

Is a catcall EVER the least bit flattering? Does the attractiveness of the caller play into how obnoxious or gratifying it is?

Hot showers, especially when you’re achy or dirty, feel like getting kissed all over your body by a thousand tiny Ryan Goslings.

You meet a 25-year-old today who has a fiancée, a three-bedroom apartment, a fulfilling job, and a good deal on a new car, the first question is “What is wrong with him?”

No one believes you when you are checking your phone at the dinner table literally every 20 seconds, despite the fact that it has not buzzed or rung even once, shaking like you’re coming down from PCP.

You’re not afraid of confrontation, you shine in interviews, and you have a knack at getting along with new people. When you are in control of the careening steam engine that is your loudness, there is nothing better.

Miley Cyrus gets to be dragged through the mud as a “gross slut,” and that is fun. That is the downfall her story arc was always looking for.

No, your eyes do not deceive you, that is indeed a CARDIGAN DRESS.

You have a mutual favorite movie or show that the two of you can quote down to the last line. Everyone has learned to hate your conversations that exist only between the two of you and are entirely comprised of quotes from said movie. It has basically become your second language.

Sometimes, you wonder if everyone is faking it, even the people who seem to have it all down to a science.