I think the idea here is that, even if you’re having sex (of which you should not be having too much, because God forbid you break your vagina and lose the warranty or something) you shouldn’t be sharing.
3. Picture yourself together with them one day. Like a wishful psychic having visions of the future you want.
If someone tells you they don’t want marriage and kids, and that they aren’t going to change their mind, please do everyone a favor and listen to them.
You are the girl that every girl asks “OMG WHAT PRODUCT DO YOU USE” when you post selfies on your blog. You have got the perfect combination of length, well-conditioned softness, and complete absence of ugly breakage or split ends.
Guys, how adorable was it that adults thought Oregon Trail was educating us in the least bit?
I dated sporadically and unsuccessfully in college, fluctuating between a lot of tears and frustration and not being able to understand why I was so unlovable and gleefully listening to other people b-tch about their relationships while I wore full-on acne masks to bed in a comforter covered in Cheez-it dust.
Everyone has acted crazy over a boyfriend/girlfriend before. Some just get crazier than others.
As the only two stages of a relationship in the Disney universe are “just met thirty seconds ago” and “married in some elaborate, My Super Sweet 16-esque wedding,” you’re probably coming up on the latter.
People sometimes cut their ex’s out of their lives, even when they’ve been together for years. And that’s probably the key reason your best friend is your soul mate. For the most part he or she is not going to break up with you.
Are we supposed to be dating? Or are we more like good friends? Special buddies? No, not special buddies, that just sounds awkward. Hmm, maybe this is just about hooking up mostly. So like, are we one of those whatever with benefits type deals?
For those of us with a filter and some insecure tendencies, liking and being liked is hard labor. We carry around a lumpy sack full of giant turnoffs, like a self-conscious Santa Clause.
Thank you for always being closest to me even when we were in separate time zones and separate stages of life. Thank you for not letting us get split by dumb facts like distance or time.
There’s three types of freshman journalism majors: ones who want to be Carrie Bradshaw, ones who want to write for Rolling Stone, and ones who want to be Woodward and Bernstein. I was the last one.
Horrifying spelling. A text riddled with basic errors can be a deal breaker. Not abbreviations — but messages that look like the Zodiac-killer wrote them and take forever to decode.
Unsolved Mysteries is the reason why I watch my garage door go all the way down – because if I don’t, a killer will most definitely slide under at the last second.
They’ll literally be in the middle of talking about puppies or rainbows and then they’ll turn, vitriol spewing from their gnarled mouths, yell “Yankees suck!” with a vengeance and then turn back pleasantly to the conversation at hand.
