Danielle Campoamor

Just follow a few simple rules and you’ll forgo any obligatory Rorschach tests or psychologist visits.

If you don’t want to date me, quit making me laugh.

Leave the sexual games and unending power struggles for those actually trying to date. This is sex, boys and girls, and it should be as easy as a buffet.

There’s the kind that’ll leave you wanting.

Don’t believe it. Your stubborn rejection of reality will give your body enough time to adjust accordingly.

Enjoy having too much. Too much Jack Daniels. Too much love. Too much dancing. Too much work. Too much procrastination. Too much time. Too much responsibility. Too much insecurity. Too much coffee. Too much doubt. Too much of not enough.

It’s okay to say “no” if you were flirting. Batted eyelashes and sly smirks and witty words do not form a map to your uncharted territory.

While they appreciate a little effort, they don’t want the morning after to become a twisted game of Chatroulette. Let them know what they’re getting: the real you.

I was forced to ride the bus.

The confidence reeking from this fantastically feminine woman was not only astounding, it was jealousy-inducing.

Like most things, practice is required.

You aren’t perfect. Neither are they. And whether or not they are willing to admit that, you are not them. So let your imperfection flag fly.

Hate is love inching its way out of your heart. It lingers to cause you a pain that only time will be capable of healing. So feel it. Every excruciating second of it, until all the love is gone.

You’re on his bed. You don’t know why. Your hands are pinned down. You don’t know why. Your legs are spread. You don’t know why. He’s on top of you, and you know exactly why.

Thank you for arguing with me. You taught me the correct way to disagree, as well as the incorrect way.