I own a cat because I love the absolute crap out of cats.
I’m drunk at a party where someone is singing karaoke, when all of a sudden the guy next to me drops the line, “His voice is like a mix of Fergie and Jesus,” to which his girlfriend swiftly replies, “Did we just become best friends?” to which he answers, “Wanna go do karate in the garage?”
You’ve got your eggs in more baskets than the Easter Bunny.
Wonder if you’re coming off too needy and stop responding so readily, then decide that you’re acting too aloof and shoot him some random pointless message, which you will then overanalyze and regret sending until he responds back.
I’ve recently discovered a little diversion technique that’s become extremely useful to me, and I feel like I should share.
Stop asking yourself if you’re doing the right thing. You are doing the right thing. It’s just that you’re used to feeling, well, right when you do the right thing.
Being drunk-hungry might lure you into a less recognized option for late-night eating: a 24-hour pharmacy. Since you can use your debit card here, you will feel compelled to buy every snack you see, especially if you’re far from home and need to survive a long drunken, train ride.
That voice in the back of your head, the one that keeps asking, what if this doesn’t work out? Would you survive losing a friend and a lover in one fell swoop? Could you handle facing your co-worker every day if things go south?
They are not you. They don’t have the authority to decide whether or not it makes you a slut if you sleep with that guy on date number three. They’re only going on what they’ve heard, from expert sources like their boyfriend’s “bros,” or Bravo TV.
You won’t know the mistake you’ve made until after things have ended, and those same streets and subways start to haunt you. Those spots, your spots, the ones that you so willingly shared with that first person you loved in this city, are now poisoned.