This one goes out to all of the boys who have ever called me, or any other girl they’ve chased, crazy. You may have been onto something.
1. I will start sending and/or responding to flirty texts (read: booty calls) from every guy who has been into me in the past three years. I will even send texts to guys that had previously scored multiple touchdowns in the friend zone. (Note: that’s how you know it’s really bad). Why? With crushes/infatuations/already-printed wedding invitations (see? I said it was bad) comes vulnerability. I probably feel so vulnerable in our (likely imaginary) relationship that I feel the need to not just delicately place a few eggs in other baskets but throw them vehemently at my exes. All. Of. My. Exes. The more psychologically-inclined of you will recognize this phenomenon as self-sabotage.
2. I will post post pictures of me with other guys on Facebook. They will probably be shirtless and jacked and beautiful and intimidating. I probably don’t know them. I may or may not have paid them to pose. It depends.
3. I may even start tweeting in hopes that if you log on to your five-months-dormant Twitter account you will subsequently be reminded that I exist, which will thus prompt you to tweet at me, text me, or maybe even propose.
4. These tweets may or may not contain lyrics from or links to songs that describe our situation perfectly.
5. No, these are not Taylor Swift songs. It’s not that bad.
6. I will send you snapchats of amazingly high quality. We’re talking good lighting, perfect hair and makeup (no, I did not shower for this…damn) and enough cleavage to pique your interest without warranting the term “slutty snapchat.” Yes, I know that said picture will silently combust after exactly three seconds. You and your rationality can go play in traffic.
6.5. Okay fine. It is that bad.
7. If I did not have time to properly prepare for said snapchat (read: all of my push-up bras were in the wash, someone else was in the shower…) I will probably snap you a picture of my computer screen, which will likely conveniently feature me watching your favorite show. It will probably contain a caption that essentially says “come hither,” but in a few more words. Wouldn’t want to be obvious. Note: I probably (almost definitely) do not watch this show, which you will undoubtedly figure out the first time you quote it and find me looking even more confused than usual. No seriously, logic. There is a bus leaving in half an hour. Be under it.
8. I will delete your number on at least a bi-weekly basis. I have probably done this so many times that I now have your number memorized (which pretty much defeats the point. Ya, I get it.) That ‘Dignity’ iPhone app is safely filed on my homescreen, but I have long since realized that nothing short of a sudden case of amnesia on your part could save said dignity at this point.
9. I will write about you on high-traffic websites, probably anonymously or under a pen name, until you magically figure out that I am me and that I am talking about you. Yes, common sense, I see you and your waving neon signs. There’s a bridge over there. I’ll happily escort you to it.