Tag Archives: friendship

He’s No Item. Please Don’t Like Him.

I’ve been a bad friend. I’ve gone against girl code. I’ve hushed the rules of feminism. I have literally driven people to the brink of unfriending me (IN REAL LIFE). All because I possess this pesky little thing called feelings. They’re of the lustful variety. The absolute worst kind to have. But, you know, I can’t help them.

There is nothing more frustrating than knowing something is bad for you and not being able to help yourself. But, it’s the feels. They come around when you’re with your cuddle buddy on the low. They tell you that everything is perfect and magical. Then, before you know it, said cuddle buddy is back to their typical douchebaggery and you’re forced to face the friends that you have disappointed. They say they aren’t judging. They say “do you.” But every interaction with them becomes much harsher. You can see them getting bored with you.

So who do you listen to? Ultimately, you listen to yourself. And, if you’re anything like me, that little voice inside is saying to put distance between yourself and the situation. It’s saying to run away to another continent for an extended vacation. It’s saying to travel across the country and set up shop… permanently. There’s only one problem. There’s a possibility that those pesky little feelings will most certainly follow.

Nine Signs You Found a Ride or Die Chick: The BFF Edition

Ever since I became a single lady, I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have a treasure trove of amazing women saunter into my life. Joining the equally awesome gal pals I’ve carried with me since childhood, all of these ladies have proved themselves to be the ultimate ride or die chicks. Here are nine signs that you may have found your very own scissor sisters:

1. When they see you making a poor decision, they’ll try to save you from yourself. And when you push them away and argue that you’re busy “doing you,” they’ll simply laugh it off and keep the judgment at bay.

2. After ingesting one too many shots and insisting that you’re walking 4 miles home, they’ll force you into a cab, make sure you get home okay, help undress you, feed you water, tuck you into bed and then promise you’re not dying (because you can’t possibly have drank that much and still be alive).

3. They aren’t afraid to give you that #realtalk whenever you’re acting a fool. On the flip, when you show up to their apartment in absolute shambles or suffer a freak panic attack, they’ll drop everything in order to tend to your momentary mental instability.

4. They will Pinterest the fuck out of your clothes or help you decorate your apartment or make you dinner to ensure that you’re fed properly. Basically, they’ll pick up the slack on the areas of your life that you’re less than stellar at.

5. They’ll go to bat for you without hesitation. From throwing the most excellent of shade to putting someone in their place on your behalf. Your back. They’ve got it.

6. When you’re convinced you have an incurable medical ailment, they’ll try their best to convince you that you’re fine. When you’re absolutely positive that death is imminent, they’ll go along with it and start Googling for doctors specializing in “weird bump on my friend’s crotch that she says is most definitely cancer.” It goes without saying that TMI is nonexistent in this friendship.

7. You don’t walk out the door until they’ve co-signed your outfit. Because you know that they’ll be the first to tell you if you look like an absolute hobgoblin.

8. Much like Ice Cube, they’re down for whatever. Spontaneous road trips. Impromptu dance parties. Weekly improv classes. I mean, whatever semi-crazy thing you want to do, they’re not going to ask too many questions.

9. You’re your best self when you’re around them. And on the rare occasion that you’re an absolute monster, they’ll forgive. But make sure that you never forget.

Let’s Play the Text Game

Most days, I consider myself a confident lady. Other days, I’m more of what I like to call “an absolute wreck of a human.” Sometimes, on very rare occasions, I can be both at the exact same time. And that rare moment actually caught me by surprise yesterday.

It started when one of my favorite gal pals was agonizing over whether she should text a guy first. They had a great weekend together, he had mentioned having dinner the following week and now she wanted to follow up. But he hadn’t texted in a few days and she was afraid that he had either lost interest or would “scare him off.” They’re silly thoughts, but ones that all of us tend to have. So, of course, my advice to her was to text the goober. I told her to be bold and go after what she wanted. After a few more excuses on her part (the possibility of rejection is SCARY, okay!), she relented and texted him later that night. And wouldn’t you know, he had been thinking about her, too. Their dinner has been formally scheduled.

While I was GChatting her off the ledge of #foreveralone, I was having my very own crisis. The problem was pretty much the same. Do I text the guy first? However, the terms were completely different. Dude and I hadn’t spoken in five months. Things had gotten awkward between us. And I kept questioning if this was really the right time to tear down that Berlin Wall. So, with the helpful nudging of a different favorite gal pal, I went for it. It should be said that I got ridiculously worked up about this. I immediately regretted that I couldn’t blame my decision on alcohol. I couldn’t bear to look at my phone in the case that the response (or lack thereof) would be less than desirable. I went as far as starting a video chat with my aforementioned friend so she could look at my phone screen and tell me whether I should be freaking out or not. Seriously, I was behaving like someone who needed their meds adjusted.

You see, confident while advising friends. Absolute wreck advising myself. But as I stand smack in the middle of sane and psychotic, I always manage to learn something. In this particular instance it was that the millennial “text game” is pretty damn stupid. You want to talk to someone? Just fucking do it. Don’t agonize about what they’re thinking. Don’t act disinterested to protect yourself. If they don’t respond or don’t reciprocate your feelings, you’ll find a way to move on. Don’t let the “do I text them first?” question plague you.