My wise little sister recently explained to me the importance of having a “roster”.
For all of us single gals out there, it’s apparently imperative to have a lineup of guys who will conveniently make themselves available to you should the need arise. I’m not sure what that “need” entails exactly, but I suppose it runs the gamut.
Like… if you want a buddy for bowling after work? Call Guy #1.
Feeling horny and want to hook up? Oh, that’s Guy #4’s role.
Just want a foot rub and cuddles on the couch? Guy #2 is alllll about them schnuggles. He might whip up a meal for you too, if you ask nicely.
Guys, guys! For those of you who don’t know, it’s officially cuffing season!
And damn, I want to get cuffed.
Being alone is boring. Everyone else is all huddled up in their annoying little twosomes, whiling away the wintertime cold, and I’m over here by myself eating chocolate chips from a jumbo bag until I feel sick. So really, what’s so bad about wanting a casual relationship of my own to help pass the time?
Ok, ok, a little background.
First of all, cuffing season occurs between Halloween and Valentine’s Day when the weather is shitty and all you want to do is attach yourself to another human being and cuddle under the covers for four months straight. Of course, once the holidays are over and the weather improves, there’s an understanding that you’ll both go your separate ways, because when the sun finally comes out, who has time to be held back by their winter fuck buddy?
What’s the farthest you’d go for a hookup?
Not just any old makeout sesh either. A once in a lifetime shot. The real deal. A guaranteed, pleasure-filled evening with the guy or gal of your dreams.
Would you go across town? Drive across the state? Hop on a plane cross country? Would you traverse an ocean for someone?
And does the destination matter? Like, is it more okay to book a last minute flight to bang someone in LA than someone in Omaha?
I sent him a tweet and he responded via Snapchat, so I replied with a goofy selfie snap and then sent him a text to follow up when he didn’t open it after a few hours. He called me and we chatted but he asked me to send him an email to finish up since I had to hop off early to run errands. I did that, but realized he never mentioned anything about the postcard I sent from my work trip so I Facebook messaged him to ask if any snail mail had shown up at his door.
Can we all agree that this is ridiculous?
The sheer number of ways in which we communicate with each other has gotten so out of hand it’s positively absurd.
Election season is like a modern day rendition of medieval warfare, in a way. A power struggle to end all power struggles.
You fight for something that resembles freedom from your claustrophobic cubicle in the midwest. Your laptop your trusty steed. Excel your Excalibur.
Some people might say that in the wake of a breakup you mourn the loss of your lover, your confidante, your best friend. You might feel as if you’ve lost your sounding board, your cuddle buddy, your default dinner date. Maybe in some cases, depending on how the relationship dissolves, you lose your dignity?
Well, I lost my fucking umbrella.
We’ve all met him. The Perfect on Paper Guy.
The man who went to Princeton undergrad, before attending Johns Hopkins Med school and finished at the top of his class, all while running a non-profit on the side that helps under-privileged children fulfill their dreams of playing soccer in America. As a doctor, he spends his hectic days in the emergency room saving kids lives while I post Twitter ads for tech startups. In his free time he gives back to the community while I sit on the couch digging into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and watching The Bachelor.
My ex boyfriend was really good at filling up the Brita.
He wasn’t good at giving massages or cooking dinner or vacuuming the cat hair off the couch, but he always made sure there was cold, clear, clean water in the fridge.
Living alone, I’ve realized, I’m really terrible at this. Refilling the Brita, that is.
Hello, gentlemen. I’m backkkkkk.
Remember when I last bid you adieu? Remember how haughty and snotty and certain I was that it would be the last you’d see of me? Absolutely convinced that this time, THIS TIME, I’d never have to re-enter the dating pool?
Yeah, I was an idiot.
Have you ever wanted to kill your significant other? I mean like, were you ever so full of simmering, bubbling rage that you wanted to just close your eyes and have them disappear from the earth forever? Yes?
Well then obviously you’ve tried kayaking for two.
It seems a universal truth that the generally innocuous activity of couple’s kayaking is actually the ultimate relationship test. I don’t know what it is exactly about this date idea that’s so horrific… Perhaps it’s because water sports carry such a low key, fun-loving vibe that you’re royally unprepared for the consequences.