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dating/love/lack thereof

Social Media & Thotism Will Get You Laid, Not Loved

The more I think about boys and how I think/behave concerning those handsome demons, the more I’m convinced I belong in a padded room in a building at the end of a long road without street lights. I’m fucking insane. There is no logical explanation or excuse for the person I become when I like a boy.

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It’s not really predictable. Sometimes, I’m irrationally dismal, because the hotter the guy, the harder you’re screwed (and not in the fun naked way) from the start. I go into this knowing there are going to be casualties. And sometimes, I fall for someone before I’ve learned their last name. Sometimes, I kind of psychotically tango between the two.

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Why can’t I, a living breathing chocolate sculpture dressed to the tees on most days, be romantically blessed? Is it because I’m bat shit crazy? Because I’m a conceited piece of shit? Because I love America more than I will ever love a man? All possible. But the more that I think about it, the more that I think the college culture of hookups and relationships is to blame for me, and tons of girls like me, being single.

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And let’s be clear; I’m not talking about the girls that can’t keep their pants on for more than 20 minutes when they’re talking to a new guy, because if you expect relationships out of that you’re a moron that needs to learn a thing or two about self control. I’m talking about the ridiculous, phonebook sized collection of unwritten rules about when, where and how you’re supposed to approach “romance” as a college aged person.

You can’t seem to desperate, but you can’t seem too distant. You can’t seem like too much of a slut, but you have to keep him interested. You want to seem like a good time, but you don’t want to scream “I need better parenting and something in my mouth.” It’s a ridiculous balancing act that leaves most college aged women on the brink of being institutionalized.

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Was there ever a time where you could actually soberly approach someone you didn’t know and something decent came out of it? Like an actual date?

Well now that I think of it, yes. Once upon a time before I was a fat, distraught college student, I was on the train having some random conversation with a coworker, and noticed a ridiculously handsome stranger sitting across from me, and in some superhuman adrenaline fueled surge of courage, told him that I liked his tattoos and thought he was “very handsome,” I shit you not.

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As thirsty as it sounds, I promise the execution was much less thotesque. Before we parted ways, I gave him my number, and before I got home from the train, he had already texted me. The conversation was actually great, and as much as I was anticipating him to turn it into something gross, I couldn’t have been happier to have been proved wrong.

That Friday, I met him after work and went to the beach and talked about life. Then we went to the Commons and talked about life. Then I introduced him to my favorite pizza place in Boston, and then we went to the Charles River. It was dark, and the city of Cambridge illuminated the night in the most beautiful, #instabasic way. As simple as it was, it was easily the most romantic day of my life, and I owe it all to me metaphorically growing a pair.

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Guys approach girls less and less these days, and you can’t blame them. For all a guy knows, you could not only be a complete bitch (if a guy approaches you respectfully and you humiliate him you are indeed a bitch) and eviscerate his self esteem just for the hell of it, but accuse him of “harassment” for saying fucking hi, so no wonder they’re less enthusiastic about approaching women. So, the ball’s really in our court. Instead of being godless sickos trying to hook up on Yik Yak and secretly hoping that a Tinder hookup becomes something more, we need to like, actually talk to people, and not just when we’re hammered and look like hookers in training. Let’s stop trying to strategically upload provocative selfies to get attention from guys, and start having conversations with them.

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  • Another day, another pizza pic .
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 #foodbeast #eeeeeats #eatfamous #dailyfoodfeed #onthetable #heresmyfood #tastemade #buzzfeast #forkyeah #foodiesofinstagram #instayum #foodgasm #foodography #foodlover #foodielife #eattheworld #foodoftheday #fooddiary #foodaddict #foodpornshare #pizzalover #pizzatime #pizzaislife
  • New blog post about how getting into what’s essentially a grown up sorority after not being able to participate in Greek Life in college reminded me that it’s never too late to create the life you want; I know it sounds stupid on the surface but check it out anyway 🤪 — link in bio!
  • “When I told your father I was pregnant he told me to get an abortion. After you were born he told me he had never been more wrong about anything in his life.” I’m pro-life, and I always have been. My mom was starting law school at Brown when she got pregnant with me a year younger than I am now. My biological father...wasn’t exactly boyfriend of the year to put things lightly, and as an Ivy League grad the world was literally my mom’s oyster. She was extremely religious and went to a very conservative church where a child out of wedlock would turn her into an outcast. Because like every last professed pro-life Christian, she wasn’t perfect. But this wouldn’t be a sin that she could hide or bury. She had every reason to make that appointment, but she chose not to.

Fast forward 24 years, and a really good friend of mine got pregnant at the same age my mom did, and I assumed she would keep it. She was in a stable relationship and even told me she wanted to start a family soon. And according to almost every conversation we’d ever had on the subject, she was pro life too. But she was panicking, and almost overnight her entire perspective changed. Ironically enough, just days before I attended my first March for Life, a good friend of mine got an abortion.

And I won’t lie; I was disappointed. Because like most abortions, it wasn’t the result of some freak accident of properly used but failed birth control. She was being careless. And while I did my best to make the case for keeping it without pressuring her, I completely understood her decision and didn’t judge her for a minute. Because what my friend needed more than opinions or condemnation was my support.

I am pro life, and I always have been. My views didn’t change, but my attitude did. I realized that week, after taking frantic phone call after frantic phone call, that life happens in a lot of different directions. Life happening for my mom meant a child at 24 and dropping out of law school. Life happening for my friend meant an abortion. And part of being pro life — for me at least — is being there for people in your life even when it challenges you.
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  • In 2019 instead of making a list of habits and goals I want to implement and accomplish, I’m thinking more broadly about the kind of person I want to be so that no matter what this year has in store for me I’m in a place where I can make the most of it. New blog post — link in bio!
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