No one ever died of hurt feelings.
Once you mention you’re not drinking alcohol, people automatically withdrawal from you.
I’m trying to quarantine the pain, the sharp edges, because I don’t want to cut anyone else.
Can’t I just get a nice guy with a touch of a wild streak? Are all of them snatched up already?
You know what makes us the craziest? The thing making our inner psycho bitch come screeching out? What makes our insecurities scream for attention? It’s not dating, it’s not men, and it’s not our mothers.
I found myself at 29 living alone for the first time.
I had a plan, a system, and rules to follow. I looked at match.com profiles with the same discriminating eye I would review a resume from a potential candidate for a job.
I can see their potential. I can see the best version of whatever man strikes my fancy. Doesn’t sound like such a bad thing, does it? You can’t date potential though.
They lure you in with their high-end bachelor pads and $14 cocktails.
I’m an incredible ex-girlfriend.