Crissy Milazzo

Damn, this whole pregnancy thing is going to hurt like a bitch. You push gently against your abdomen. Is that an organ you feel, or a fetus? You know that there is no scientific way you’d be able to feel the pregnancy at this point, but you decide that you can anyway.

Their walls are decorated with photos of their significant other. They respond to anything interesting you say with something completely disinteresting and tangentially related about their boyfriend or girlfriend; you express your love for pretzel chips and suddenly you’re being told that “Zach really loves roasted red pepper hummus, but not as much for dipping as for like, a spread on wraps, you know?”

You’ll meet him through mutual friends and he’ll seem instantly more interesting than anyone else. He’ll engage in conversation with anyone, seeming just as interested to talk to you as he is the nerdy guys who play table tennis in your dorm.

Hey! I ran into your disloyal ass friend who told me everything about what you’re doing. It really doesn’t matter if I brought up your new job, cat, step parent, or car accident. What matters here is that I know about the new things in your life.

We tell our friends we’re going to have sex with you. Sorry. Maybe this doesn’t apply to all of you moral angels out there in this online world, but if I’m planning on having sex with a guy, I’m also telling two different group texts of my closest friends that I’m going to do so.

If you kind of want to be a teacher, don’t do it. “Kind of” will never be good enough.

You were never going to hear anything, you knew that, but you kind of hoped an “I’m sorry” or an “I miss you” would hit your inbox like a new badge hitting your chest: you would’ve been the winner.

You tear up in the bathroom after you see your best friend and her little sister play soccer together. You don’t bring friends over. It’s just easier that way.

Is this real? Did they really take the six steps necessary to leave that note instead of the one step it would have taken to wipe off the spot? Yes, they did. They always will.

This list is not meant to scare anyone away from weed (as if I possess that power), or to inspire a “~420 BlAaAaAaZeEe It!!!~” response, but more to serve up my own humiliation as entertainment and disappoint my parents. Let’s take this journey.

After a recent breakup and a foray into writing about dating apps, I was left with a very dangerous situation on my phone: Tinder.

In 2014, coming back into the dating game hot off a fresh breakup means being bombarded with an astonishing amount of options for meeting other sad people.