Charlotte Green

I have never been called a slut by a man. I don’t know if that makes me exceptional, but it’s true to my experience.

My friends ask, “why don’t you delete him?” And I should. There would be a moment of weirdness, because we are friends in theory, but he would get over it. He would probably even understand.

We deserve more than tumultuous relationships that we believe are magical because they are complicated.

They don’t understand. They think they are helping, but they don’t get it.

When I call you and you don’t pick up and I call you again — maybe even four times — I know that I’m bothering you. I know that you think I’m the ‘crazy’ ‘needy’ girl that you have to gently let down again.

We choose not leaving our hometown because we think it guarantees us friends and comfort. We choose to stay in unfulfilling relationships because we think it guarantees we will never be alone.

I knew what he wanted to say. We’re not dating. We’re not a thing. We’re not in the kind of relationship that would make events like this something that was expected of him.

Sometimes, you imagine what it would be like to be decidedly in the “pretty” category. You imagine that it’s a lot better than it probably is, that it comes with the kind of benefits that Premium membership does in private clubs.

You should leave him tonight because you keep talking about your resolutions, about all the things you want to do next year to make yourself a better person, but when you picture that better person, she is always alone.

The siblings/cousins who have a long-term SO to bring around for the holidays are basically the celebrities of the family.

Don’t lie next to them and drift out of consciousness while they breathe in your hair and think of a way to tell you how beautiful you look without bothering you.

I see my friends getting engaged on Facebook almost every weekend now, and I always do the right thing. I say congratulations, I ‘like’ their pictures of the ring and their professional portraits.