I am a storyteller.

I am a storyteller. 

“What’s up with a pretty girl like you being single?” he asked in a drunken slur.

“Umm, idk! You know men these days!” I replied four vodka sodas deep, “just not ready for a boyfriend I suppose.”

After a brief make out sesh at the bar before I realized I wasn’t in college and sloppy make outs aren’t really my thing anymore, I called myself an Uber.

“How was your night?” Taj with a 4.87 Uber driver rating asked me.

“Meh, it was ok,” *deletes drunk text to ex boyfriend*

“You’re going home awfully early! The night’s just starting for some people.”

I hit the side button on my iPhone. The screen lights up to read 12:15am. He’s not wrong.

I fumble with my keys before getting to my apartment. With 6% battery, I receive a FaceTime call from an ex (well, sort of ex). My finger hits the red button. I have season 5 of 90210 to finish, I don’t want to FaceTime.

I strip down to just a bra and underwear and hop into bed. I’m too lazy to turn the heat on, so I pull another blanket over my naked body.

“Hey, I miss you. What are you up to?” My phone lights up. Oh, hey, random bar guest that I briefly dated. Haven’t heard from you in a few months. I plug my phone into the charger and shut my laptop.

I stare at the ceiling. I don’t know if it’s the Tito’s keeping me awake or if it’s something else. I switch a Podcast on, Sleepy Time. It’s supposed to help you fall asleep.

Eyes blink. The ceiling lies ahead.

I pull out my brown leather journal and open to a bank page. “This is Why I’m Single” I scribble at the top of the page.

I continue to write. Bullet note-ing the shit out of why I’m single. Pathetic? Maybe. I’ve already started the list in my head, so writing it out isn’t much different. Here was the start of my list:

  • I’m busy.
  • I’m tired.
  • I’m not pretty enough. Stfu.
  • I’m overly ambitious for most alpha males.
  • I don’t have time.
  • I don’t feel like dating.

The list continued, basically listing every reason under the sun that you could think of. For about 20 minutes, I beat around the bush with excuses until the vodka sodas caught up with me and I started to nod off.

The next morning I opened my journal to that page. Rolling my eyes at my pathetic-ness I opened my phone and realized that I had also drunkenly deleted dating apps.

I nearly ripped the page from my journal and tossed it in the trash at second-hand embarrassment from my sober to drunk self. The list started back at me, why don’t you just admit the real reason?

For months I have been pushing away men who have shown interest, dropping the ball on Bumble dates, not feeling sexually attracted to people that used to spark my interest.

I’m just not, well, interested.

No, you’re just not ready.

It’s a sign of weakness to admit when you’re just simply not ready to do something. Whether it’s moving to a new city, moving careers, or moving on from a previous relationship. Society always expects you to be ready to take the leap.

Do I have guys lining up to be my boyfriend? No, lolz. Absolutely not. Not my point, though. My point is that, yeah, I do feel sorta weird having another guy in my bed. I do have trouble connecting with other men so I avoid first dates and “grabbing coffee” like the plague. Is shutting any opportunity a sad attempt at dealing with my past? Maybe. I’m not sure. All I know is that I’m just not ready. And I should be OK with that.

I lost myself for a while, trying to get over everything and attempt to piece together everything that had happened. And frankly, I’m still working on it. Slowly, but surely.

The next statement is about to come straight from the single white girl anthem song but the fact of the matter is, I’m working on myself. Working on things that I have control of. My blog, my book, my health, my sanity, my future. Things that have remained a healthy constant the past several years of my life.

A couple of months ago, I had a news outlet reach out to me asking me to publish my story. They wanted to interview me about it and feature it in a series of articles they had been working on.

I wasn’t ready. I politely declined. 

Was I scared? No. Nervous? Not really. I don’t have any other explanation for it other than the fact that I just simply was not ready. I wasn’t ready to rehash it. I wasn’t ready to talk about it again. I wasn’t ready to admit to myself and to others that I’m still damaged from it.


This blog was born out of the pure fact that writing helps me understand things my brain can’t quite figure out. For months I have been beating down this idea of feeling “damaged” from my past. Forcing myself to pretend that I’m over everything, that every moment of sadness isn’t valid. I fill my time with 70 hour work weeks, random guys, and night’s out with friends, barely giving myself anytime to breathe. To write. To understand my feelings and validate them on my own terms.

I joke with my friends often and tell them I’m going on a “30 Day Dude Cleanse.” It never lasts long, as I’ve found myself using guys as a distraction from the fact that I, Beth Cormack, might be a slight emotionally damaged. Who, me? Damaged? Nahhh.

I don’t know the answer to it all. I know “time heals all” blah blah blah, and that’s something I’ve been trying to do. Just giving it time. Staying busy. Letting the days pass by and knowing that each day, a piece of my past is less relevant than the day before. Assuring myself that there are bigger and better things out there for myself. These things I know and I understand.

But, is it better to pretend the past never happened or to acknowledge it and embrace the feelings that come along with it? Or is there even a right answer to that question?

I don’t know.

Relationships have always been difficult for me. Sure, I “date” people, but usually don’t let it continue beyond just that.

We all have experiences in our life that have influenced the way that we are today. While some people are more comfortable with sharing these things, I am not.  Sounds funny coming from the girl who practically broadcasts her life on a blog, however, there are anecdotes about my life that I keep to myself — ones that I’m not sure will ever even make it into this blog. Anecdotes that help people understand why I am the way I am.

There are a select few people who know these stories. I have been molding this circle of people who know these things my entire life. It’s been working. I have a perfectly constructed “circle of trust,” if you will.

Well, had.

When I was thinking to myself, why did this relationship leave such a strong ripple effect? The answer was hard to come by at first. In retrospect, it was never a healthy relationship. While there were many glimmers of happiness, they were only temporary, glimmers that were to be whisked away by the wind at any moment.

I lost myself.

I started recalling memories of long nights lying next to each other in bed, pillow talking until the sky turned orange. Drives down the highway with my hanging out of the window and his hand relaxing on my leg.

I realized something.

I let him in. I let him in the close circle that is so hard to break through. My circle, once so tight knit and carefully constructed is now a strangely reconfigured shape I can’t ever mold back into what it once was. My circle is damaged.


I’ve been working on refocusing my mind to things I do care about. People who make me better rather than drag me down. I haven’t been putting too much pressure on myself to go on first dates I don’t feel like going on. I haven’t been blaming myself for feeling “damaged” at times, because, yeah, life is debilitating and damaging at times.

My perfect, carefully constructed circle is not what it once was. By choice, I let somebody else in on the stories of my past; stories that I usually use as a part of my shield of self-protection and I can’t take it back. He knows my stories, and I wish he didn’t. He knows me. And at times, I wonder if I ever knew him.

That’s the scariest part.

I am a storyteller.

These are stories I do not tell. 

Why the F*CK is dating a lot of people a bad thing?


Our 20’s is a time for us to be selfish, to take risks. It’s a time to travel the world, move to a different city, see what the world has to offer outside of our comfort zones. It’s a time to find yourself, a time to begin your journey in the reality that we spent our whole lives trying to avoid.

Our 20’s should also be a time where you should be able to date and talk to whoever the hell we want without feeling a sense of judgement from others. It’s a time where we should be able to go grab drinks with the guy we met on Tinder, while simultaneously texting our cute guy back at home, simply because we can. And simply because we don’t give a flying f*ck.

I’m always talking to a guy. I go out and talk to a different person every night and sometimes kiss them too. I have a compiled list of numbers in my phone starting with the guy’s first name and ending with the bar I met them at: Derek Lit, Pete Coogans, Alex Jery Remy’s– the list continues. When I’m bored, I scroll through Tinder, and converse with 4 or 5 guys at time that usually start and end the same way. No matter how many times I have to copy and paste my responses to the “what are you looking to do after school?” question, it doesn’t get old. And to be completely honest, I don’t remember a time in my life where there wasn’t some guy on my radar.

One time I made a promise to myself that I would “give up boys” until Christmas. Ha. It lasted about a week. I found myself Tindering and texting all over again.

For some reason, I wanted to hate myself for it. I wanted to allow myself to believe that “I don’t know how to be alone,” and others tried to convince me too. The stigma behind women always having a guy in their life has painted us as desperate, pathetic, and helpless. We have low self confidence so we look to men to make us feel desired. We don’t love ourselves, so we need men to complete us. We need to learn how to be alone; we need to learn how to be independent and strong.

I think that is a load of bullshit.

I don’t date or talk to multiple men because I need to feel loved. I don’t date men to lift my low self esteem or to fill some emptiness in my heart. I date because it’s fun. I like chatting and getting to know people because it helps me better understand myself. I date because I don’t have a wedding ring on my finger and I date because I can and want to; not because I need to.

I used to be ashamed of the “long list of ex-lovers” I have. Some people roll their eyes when I talk about a new guy in my life because it always seems to change. My romantic life is constantly a whirlwind, but it’s one that I put myself in. Not because I fear “being alone,” but because it keeps my life fresh, fun, and exciting; something that I think your 20’s should be all about.

“You don’t know how to be alone.” You’re right. I have no clue how to be alone. That’s because I never allow myself to be alone. I constantly surround myself with people who I care about and who give my life more purpose. I don’t want to be alone, why is that a bad thing?

I like when guys compliment me. I like when I get a “how are you” text message from a guy I’m interested in. I like making out with random guys, and I enjoy the thrill of meeting someone new at the bar. And if you ask me to get drinks sometime, I probably will. I’d rather have a thousand different flings than settle for one person at a time in my life where I simply don’t want to settle. I’m not going to limit myself from talking to somebody to appease the opinions of others. I’m a huge flirt and I won’t be sorry for it.

I don’t define myself based on the guy I’m seeing. I’m not a girl who emotionally invests herself in men constantly. In fact, at this point in my life, I don’t really emotionally invest myself in anyone but myself. I’m strong. I’m independent. I’m happy. And I date a lot of guys. So what?

I’m happily single and I’m happily dating. It’s possible to be both at the same time. And I’m tired of answering to people who disagree. I date and talk to guys because it’s fun. That’s it.

So, what’s my point here? Date, talk to, sleep with, or make out with whoever the hell you want to without feeling like you’re doing something wrong. Because you’re not. Grab drinks with a guy even if he might not be your type. Give out your number on Tinder as many times as you want. So what if you and your ex just broke up? Don’t allow other people to tell you what you’re emotionally ready for and certainly don’t allow other people to tell you that you “don’t know how to be alone.” Defining your choices based on the opinions of others is one of the worst things you can do for yourself, so don’t.

You aren’t weak for always wanting to feel desired. You’re desired for a reason, so just go with it. You’re young and hot. It won’t last, so make the most of it.

I miss you doesn’t mean I want you


“I miss you,” I confessed.

The words slipped off my tongue leaving a burning sensation on my lips. I wasn’t sure what I meant by it or what I wanted to hear in return.  But I was speaking the truth.

He went silent, I could tell that he was trying to figure out a way to say, “I don’t.” A way to say, “I don’t want you anymore, Beth.” Maybe he did miss me, and it’s hard to believe that he doesn’t miss some part of what our relationship once was. He continued to struggle to find the words to say, as if the “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” anthem was playing over and over in his head. The fear of admitting he missed me too might mess with my head too much and give me false hope.

I didn’t say I wanted him. I said I missed him.

Perhaps it was his ego, or the simple fact that his life is significantly better without me in it, which I find hard to believe. The words I spoke somehow translated to “I want to be your girlfriend,” in his mind. They translated to, “My life sucks without you in it,” and “I still cry over you.” In his mind he constructed a visual of me. Alone with tear-filed eyes, eagerly waiting for a text him that probably will never come. A visual that was me forever holding onto the hope that we may some how or some way get back together and build our fairytale life together.

Me missing him seemed to be unwarranted for. Why couldn’t I simply move on with my life, never spending a single second thinking about a guy who told me I was “The One,” multiple times? I’m simply not allowed to feel any type of longing for a man who was once such a large part of my life or else I’m weak. I’m desperate. I miss you means I want you. It means I never will allow myself to get involved in a relationship that isn’t one with you.

I don’t want you. Any romantic feelings I have ever felt towards you are long gone since the last time you tried to convince me I was nothing to you, which was simply a desperate attempt to convince yourself. I don’t want to continuously cry over the same guy. I don’t want to constantly question what I’m doing or why I’m settling. I don’t want you to kiss me or hold my hand, or tell me that you love me. I don’t want to date you or even have sex with you. I simply don’t want you. I miss you, that’s all. I miss how you used to make me feel. I miss dating the person you used to be to me. I miss the support, I miss having someone to talk to about my deepest secrets and biggest accomplishments without feeling like I’m talking too much. I miss when I was viewed as admirable and desirable rather than simply a piece of someone’s past; a piece that you are desperately trying to erase to make the “moving on” process easier.

I’m allowed to miss whoever I please. I’m allowed to think about how things used to be without being labeled as “pathetic,” or “desperate.” I miss you doesn’t mean I’m in love with you. It doesn’t mean I’m emotionally unavailable to other men and it certainly doesn’t mean I’m still emotionally invested in you.

I don’t want you.

Hopefully, someday you’ll come to realize that these phrases aren’t always synonymous with each other. Some day you’ll be able to realize that my life has been fine without you in it. I’ve given up on the hopes of you texting me, even if it’s just to chat. I’ve given up on the promise of friendship that you made me, but have come to accept that maybe you can’t handle me as just your friend. I won’t let that assumption fuel my ego the way that it has fueled yours.

I won’t apologize for telling you that I miss you. I wont apologize for being sad about what our relationship has turned into. I won’t apologize for having the human capacity to feel. However, I will apologize for ever trusting your word. Trusting that I meant more you than just another girl of your past. I apologize for assuming maturity from both parties and apologize for not making it obvious enough that I have moved on from you.

I do miss you, but I certainly don’t want you.

I Don’t Want A “Better Half”

I am a firm believer in true love. I do believe that there is someone out there for me who will eventually sweep me off my feet and make me wonder why I ever settled for anybody else. There is a man out there for me who I will celebrate countless anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and birthdays with. There is a man out there for me who I will be able to trust with my heart, forever. There is a man who I will be able to get through any fight, long distance, or hardship with and know that nothing will ever change. There is a man out there who I will share an unbreakable bond with held together by the deep desires of love.

But, not today.

I don’t want someone who I “won’t be able to imagine my life without.” I don’t want someone to “have my whole heart.” I don’t want someone to be “my whole world,” or “my rock,” or “my better half.” I don’t want somebody who can understand me better than I can understand myself.

I want to feel whole. I want to be my own rock, my own anchor, my own soulmate. I want to understand myself better than anyone else can. I don’t want to look back and hate myself for altering my future for someone else when I know I wasn’t ready to.

That’s why I don’t want to find the man I will love forever today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that. Maybe I already did find my “true love,” but I’m not ready to find out.

For those who know me, you know that when I fall, I fall fast and I fall hard. I am a hopeless romantic who wears my heart on my sleeve. I simply love the idea of being in love. I can’t remember a time in my life that I didn’t have some type of interest in a guy. I love having a “texting buddy,” I love feeling desired. I have gotten hurt a few times, but I always pick myself up and try to move on. But moving on is hard for me, simply because I love being in love. I’ve called guys my “better half,” and “my rock.” I’ve convinced myself that I couldn’t picture my life without them. I’m starting to realize now how that’s the last thing I want in my future relationship. Especially as a young woman in my early 20’s. Before I enter into any serious relationship, I need to feel like I’m complete. And I need to be able to feel complete, while completely alone.

Too many women depend on men to make them happy, and I would be lying if I said I haven’t done that myself. At this point in my life, I don’t know how to be completely independent when I’m in a relationship. I know many girls who can be, but personally, I don’t know how.

I need to feel whole before I can invite someone else into my life, or else I’d feel like I’d be giving half of my heart to them. I want to establish my own plans, dreams, and life decisions on my own. I want to grow and find myself before I’m ready to grow with anybody else.

I have dreams. I have plans for myself, that only involve myself. I’m at a pivotal point in my life where I get to decide where I go from here. I can travel, move across the country, and make stupid spontaneous decisions, just because I can. As of right now, there is nothing holding me back from where I want to take my life–well, having a bit more money may be nice, but, I’ll figure that one out eventually. I don’t want to find my true love yet. I’m not ready to settle and I’m not ready to alter my personal plans for someone else. The only thing I’m ready for is to discover where my life takes me post-grad. I’m ready to move across the country. I’m ready to travel. I’m ready to make new and beautiful memories with people that I’ll meet along the way. But, I’m simply not ready to fall in love again.

As my college career is coming to a close and I’m starting to find out what I want for my life, I’m starting to realize that I never want to fall for a guy who I consider my “better half.” I don’t want a better half. I want to be whole. I want to consider myself and my happiness as more important than relationship I will ever be involved with. Does this make me selfish? No. This makes me able to know that I can and will be happy alone, no matter how many heartbreaks will come my way.

Many people will marry their high school sweethearts, some of my friends included in that. And I love them for that. I think their relationships are healthy and I have loved watching them grow independently even though they have a significant other, and I admire them for that. There is nothing wrong with already finding the person who you want to spend the rest of your life with. You can still live a complete life with a boyfriend/girlfriend by your side at age 21. But, I know myself enough to know that I’m not at the point in my life where I can do that.

As I apply for jobs far, far away from here, I’m realizing that I need to be alone. I don’t know myself well enough yet to attempt to try to know anyone else on that deeper level. I need to have the peace of mind that the only thing holding me back from me and my future apartment in San Francisco is a job and a wad of cash.

I want to imagine my own life. I want to be able to navigate through life’s exciting opportunities and devastating disappointments independently, and if and when a guy decides he wants to join me, I’ll still be able to have the peace of mind that I can do it alone. I will be able to imagine my life without him, because at that point I have already done it alone.

Many of you may read this and view me as a loner. Or maybe you’ll think I hate the idea of love. Believe what you wish, but neither of these assumptions are true. Like I said before, I can’t wait for the day I find my true love. I can’t wait to be able to look a guy in the eyes and say “I love you,” and know that it means “I love you forever.” I can’t wait for a guy to love me, challenge me, and support me every day for the rest of my life. That day will come, but I haven’t lived enough yet.

I’m 21. I have too many stupid decisions to make before I decide my fate. I have the rest of my life to find the guy who gives love a whole new meaning for me. I have the rest of my life to find the guy who wants to share the many adventures of life with me.

That day will come. Just not today.

The Art of Texting

I say this all the time, but I seriously hate texting. I hate it. The only thing I actually enjoy about it are the emojis, but even those annoy me because I’ve definitely taken years off of my life searching through all the stupid categories to find the one I want to send.

That being said, I am always texting. I am always glued to my phone texting away, losing brain cells in the process. I would probably throw up knowing how many texts I send a day. And, I would probably, like, hide away under my covers for the rest of my life knowing the content of the texts I send while I’m drunk.

Why do I loathe texting? I don’t know. Maybe because it makes us all go bat sh*t crazy for no apparent reason. When you text, you’re hiding behind your silly little iPhone, as if it’s a shield protecting you from everything that’s bad in the world. Words flow from your fingers like word vomit. You simply can’t stop. Type as fast as you want, autocorrect has got your back-well, sometimes.

I touched on this texting subject in my blog about how girl’s overthink everything and that it will eventually lead to the complete wipeout of the female race all together. OK, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but texting has definitely given us more headaches and heartaches than personal satisfaction.

Let’s start out with talking about our hook up culture. I, myself, have invested in what I like to call a “texting relationship.” This particular guy was enjoyable to talk to, we hung out a few times, but whatever relationship we had evolved through text. Our culture would call this, “talking.” “Talking,” in my opinion is a step above strictly, “hooking up.” When you “talk” you text soberly throughout the week and genuinely enjoy what each other has to say. It’s pure entertainment. You enjoy the idea that the guy looks at you then more than a booty call on the weekends. He likes talking–I mean texting you. Some people even “talk,” and “hook up,” simultaneously which should classify as some level of dating, right? Wrong. Nobody’s trying to get labeled as a stage 5 clinger here. Consistently sleeping with the same guy while enjoying his company and talking to him all of the time certainly does NOT mean you are dating. You’re just “talking,” and “hooking up,” duh.

Every girl is some level of crazy, and I think I’m going to attribute ALL of that to the texting culture. Texting has evolved from what used to be a short and simple 160 message via mobile phone, to a complicated science worthy of hours and hours of thinking about. You know that saying, “Its not rocket science”? Like, no, texting is rocket science and so much more. It’s rocket science mixed with the most abstract painting imaginable and the most difficult mathematical equation known to man. Einstein couldn’t even figure out this sh*t. It’s a science, an art, and an equation all mixed into one textual message. You could basically call it the bane of our existence.

Where shall we start? Let’s go with timing. 
Timing is everything. So, I’ll use my example as one to work with. This guy that I was “talking,” to took forever to text back. I just couldn’t grasp the idea that he wasn’t always looking at his phone. I mean, who isn’t constantly glued to their phone anxiously waiting for some new and exciting notification to pop up on their home screen?? It’s like Christmas morning every time. (Joking, or am I?) Anyways, he would take a while to text me back, but I would always respond immediately, just because I’m always on my phone, naturally. This was totally unlike me and I totally broke so many rules by doing this. We get some weird satisfaction out of waiting to text back simply because the other person took a while. We stare at our phones, checking the time every 5 minutes, constantly debating when is an appropriate to respond.

“So, what is a good time to respond that doesn’t label me as crazy, clingy, obsessive, annoying, and not super interested yet still shows that I’m super interested?”

Basically what you’re asking is, “What is an appropriate time period to text back to show that I have a life outside of texting you yet all I am thinking about is texting you.” Timing is everything. It’s all about practicing self control and resisting the temptation, but there is a strong magnetic connection between your fingers and your iPhone, so sometimes, the universe just won’t let you wait. But, please, lets just try to pretend you have a life outside of your iPhone, even if you don’t.

The content of your message.
When constructing a text message, like I said before, it’s often like word vomit. He might have just said, “How’s your day?” That just opens the flood gates. You just want to tell him EVERYTHING. Your fingers vigorously type against the screen and then you realize how long your message actually is. “Ugh, no, he asked how my day was. He doesn’t actually want to know how my day is going. We’re not dating. So I’ll just respond with, ‘Good, how about you?'” There’s no way he can label you as crazy, clingy, or annoying with a response like that. You’re cool, calm, and collected. Although, ALL YOU WANT TO DO  is tell him that your day is fantastic and you got the scholarship you applied for and you finally lost 5 pounds and you saw your ex and his new downgrade. Life is just going so well for you right now, but “good,” will suffice. Again, I sucked at that. I would go into detail about my day, and did he actually care about how I got accepted to write for Her Campus? I have no idea. Keep it simple, because you are ~*kEwL and ChiLl*~ and totally not clingy.

This is actually the worst intro to a conversation ever. And, for the first time, I’m going to call out the guys. I’ve gotten so many “hey” text messages from guys over the years. Are we in middle school? Are we using AIM? “Hey” “Hey nmh jc” “Same” “Cool, ttyl.” Would you approach a girl at the bar and just say, “hey”? If you did, you can bet I am going to run away from you. No where in the book of texting rules is “Hey” ever a good text to send. No where. It’s right next to the rule that says “Lol” and “lmao” aren’t acceptable either, unless your ass actually fell off in the process of laughing.

Double, triple, quadruple (do I need to go further?) texting.
Woof. Such a tricky area. None are socially acceptable if you’re just “talking,” to a guy. If you’re the last text in your message thread, he should be the next one. It should be a consistent pattern of blue/white/blue/white and maybe green/white/green/white, if you have made the conscious decision to trust a guy with an Android. Double texting is sometimes OK, if the last conversation died out and the next day you want to start a new one, if you must. Rumor has it, he’ll text you if he wants to talk to you, and if you commit the double texting crime too much, then you’re getting too attached. However, triple and quadruple texting, I can’t vouch for you. The texting relationship is over, sorry.

This actually happened to me. Sorry, I’m not interested, “Alex Jery Remy’s”

Drunk texting.
Wooooffffffff. I’d like to think this was the demise of every texting relationship I’ve ever had. Word vomit via text is controllable when you are sober, most of the time. You allow yourself to take a deep breath and delete what you spent countless minutes typing because, you know, you’re trying to avoid the whole “clingy and crazy” label. However, drunk? Eh, not so much. Drunk texts are uncensored and usually emotional. No guys like emotions. Even if you have been texting and hooking up nonstop for the past 6 months and want to know how he feels. Nope. No emotions allowed, remember? The drunk texts I’ve sent have been pretty emotional, the thoughts that I crossed my mind one too many times flood the text screen and I press send. ~*nO rAgretZz*~ The line between the words we want to say but shouldn’t say gets totally disregarded as soon as we have a few drinks in us. Being honest, what a brutal crime to commit. However, the method I’ve been going with in coping with the regrets of sending a drunk text is simply deleting it. If you delete a drunk text, it never happened. Right?

Read this whole thing and you’ll realize this is why I hate texting. We try to get to know each other through an iPhone screen and develop superficial relationships that we end up reading way too much into. Every text that gets sent always has to have some sort of deeper meaning to it. Maybe he actually wants to know how your day is. Maybe he enjoys what you have to say. Or, maybe, you can just say what you want to say regardless of what he thinks. If he’s going to label you as annoying, crazy, or clingy judging on a text you send, then in my opinion, he’s not worth your time. He waited an hour to text you? OMG he hates you!!!!! Actually, maybe, he has a life outside of his iPhone. You respond immediately? You’re a pyscho. No, actually maybe you just had your phone on you and have the ability to text back sooner than he does.

In my personal experience, I still don’t know how this particular guy felt about me. We seemed to enjoy each other’s company when we hung out, and he always said he wanted to see me again, but I couldn’t read him. I was overthinking every aspect of whatever relationship we had simply because it was all through texting. Every text he sent, every minute that passed in between our conversations made me question if he was ever into it all. I drunk texted him a couple of times. I drunk texted him every sober thought that came to my mind. Does this make me crazy or clingy? I’m not sure. But I was being honest. I was getting tired of developing a superficial relationship through texting. Does this mean I wanted to date him? No. Does this mean I expected to date him? No. It meant that I was tired of avoiding the whole idea of us constantly “talking” all day every day and not addressing why we were doing so. Having a texting buddy is fun for some time, but feelings are always going to come into play at some point. You’re always going to wonder why you enjoy talking to this person so much and why they enjoy talking to you too. Trying to figure out a person via text is simply impossible, but we do it all the time.

Texting isn’t supposed to be a complicated equation, but we’ve turned it into one. If a guy wants to get to know you, then he’ll extend it beyond an iMessage, and if he’s too shy to do that, then move on.

That being said, don’t triple or quadruple text. C’mon, you’re better than that.

Dating your best friend > dating your boyfriend

Girls are girls. Guys are guys. There are things we just understand about each other that the opposite sex simply can’t comprehend. For example, Why are guys idiots? I have no idea. Why are girls crazy? That’s just false (we aren’t-OK maybe sometimes). That being said, there are certain things about yourself that only your girlfriends will ever understand which has led me to the assume the following hypothesis:

Being in a relationship with your best friend will be better than any relationship with any guy.

Why you ask? Well, it’s pretty simple to figure out.

She will always text you back.
We all want a reliable texting buddy. Someone to remind us that we’re amusing and awesome. This is where your girlfriends will come in. She’ll always text you back either immediately or within a 15 minute time frame. If not, she’s either asleep or dead. She gets that “I’m busy,” “I’m working,” “I’m in a meeting,” or “I’m throwing up blood,” simply are not acceptable excuses. Double text, triple text, drunk text, any-type-you-want text without getting slapped with the label “psycho,” “creepy,” or “clingy.” She’ll always text you back immediately because she understands the agony and anxiousness of anticipating a text that may never come. Text her stupid shit. Text her about your professor’s pit stains and the one leg you forgot to shave. Drunk texting? It’s encouraged rather than frowned upon. She’ll understand your misspelled words and broken sentences and is most likely just as fucked up as you are. Be in a relationship with your girlfriends and you’ll never have to regret any text you send ever again. You’ll never have to question whether or not you should double text, and you can bet that you’ll have a reliable text buddy 4 lyfe*~.

This is true love if I’ve ever seen it.

She understands “pizza.”
No, boys, pizza is not just a 5 letter noun. Pizza is a way of life. Pizza is the motive. Sometimes pizza is there when no one else can be. Pizza doesn’t leave your side. It listens to you when you feel shut out from the world. Pizza is love, life, and happiness all put together in one cheesy slice of heaven. Sometimes, not having pizza just isn’t an option. Your friends get that. Your friends comprehend “pizza” and everything it stands for so when you want to drown your emotions in it they’ll be right there next to you. Screw a dinner date on the waterfront. Nothing screams “romantic” than a large box of melted cheese.

She’s honest and will never cheat.
Trust. In order to have a functional and successful relationship, trust is key. Trust goes hand in hand with honesty. If you claim your man is honest, I beg to differ. “You look the most beautiful when you first wake up in the morning.” I’m calling bullsh*t and I’m rather insulted. Your girlfriends won’t do that to you. If she’s running late, and she tells you she’s taking a sh*t, that’s not code for anything else. It actually means she’s taking a sh*t. Date your friends and they’ll tell you when you need a bit more mascara, or when you just shouldn’t be seen in public all together. Texting other girls will never be an issue because odds are you’re all in the same group message sending useless emojis to each other simply because you can. If she goes home with someone else, it’s not considered cheating. You’ll know it’s just to get laid because you both have a mutual understanding of where your heart truly lies.

She’ll think everything you say is important.
I know with my past relationship with men, a majority of the fights of have centered around what we each view as important. I can totally tell when my exes would be “listening” to something I’m saying but in reality don’t care about it at all. It hurts and makes me feel unimportant. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life because you ARE important. Date your BFF and she’ll take everything you say and make it the most important issue in the world. She’ll understand that the 7 panties you purchased for $26 is just the BEST THING EVER and she’ll appreciate every detail to every drama-filled story you’ll ever tell. She’ll listen to you vent about Meredith and Derek’s relationship and understand when you say it was the reason for your bad mood today. Sometimes you just need to debate about what filter to use. Sometimes you just need to sit down with someone and pick one BUT IT’S SO HARD, your stressed and you need help. Your friends get that. Guys don’t. They’ll shoo you off like you’re some annoying gnat in their ear.

She’ll never leave you.
Love is a two way street. In order for a relationship to work, both parties must feel the same way about each other, or then it just turns into a cat-chasing-mouse game or just a messy break up all together. You can always trust that your girlfriends will never leave your side, and well if they do, you have plenty to fall back on. Date your BFF and you can be sure she’ll be loyal to you and never walk out on you, because um, she doesn’t really have a choice, lol. You may not have a legal contract binding you together, but there’s a unspoken code in order that once you actually reach the level of BFF, that last “F” actually means forever. You’re stuck and there’s no way of getting out. But, it’s OK, because the dating world is scary. Guys cheat, lie, and break your heart. The world is scary outside of your everlasting bonds with your girlfriends. Without them, you feel lost and scared, like a lonely puppy trapped in one of those God-forsaken pet shops. Being in a caring and loving relationship with your BFF is much, much safer and secure, I can promise you that.

She gets you.
She knows you don’t mean to be a bitch when it’s that time of month, you just can’t help it. She understands those days when you just need to be left alone with your bed and Netflix and she certainly understands when sometimes you just want to shut out the world completely and throw a pity party for yourself. Not only will she let you throw a pity party, she’ll make sure she has a bottle of wine waiting for you to throw your pity party. She knows after a long shift at work on a Friday night, all you want upon arriving home is a drink ready for her. She’ll understand that when you cry, you aren’t being needy and dramatic, even if it’s because your NYE dress is backordered. She understands you like nobody else does. She’s simply your one true love.

So, there you have it. Several strong points that back up my claim that Being in a relationship with your BFF will be better than any relationship with any guy. We’re young, stupid, and vulnerable. Life is short. There is simply no time for petty arguments about that girl he is Snapchatting and certainly no time for sitting around always wondering if he loves you or not. You should just know. And you certainly do just know that your girlfriends have an undying love for you that will never simmer out; no matter how many double texts, petty fights, or shameful decisions you make. A relationship with a guy is like a ticking time bomb, anxiously awaiting to spontaneously combust thus causing your heart to combust into a thousand pieces as well. Then, after that, it’s like a snowball effect. He breaks up with you, you drown yourself in ice cream and chocolate, you gain weight, you stress out about gaining weight, and then your life is over. Just like that.

Hearts are fragile. And so is life. Make the right choice. Date your BFF and live a happy, carefree, guy-free life.