Jessica Blankenship

Pancakes would never tag you in an unflattering picture that they only uploaded because it’s a cute picture of them and not give a s*^t how bad you look.

Maybe we’re soul mates and the existence of my child will one day be relevant to you. Or maybe we’re just going to go to second base in the back of this cab and never speak again and you should stop overthinking things.

New study shows black men are at least as involved in the lives of their children as fathers of other races, and in many cases, much more involved.

The problem with the new motivational mantra is that the notion of comparing ourselves to Beyoncé is – what’s the word? – total horse s*%t.

The usual body-shaming, unrealistic beauty ideals, and the Cult of Perpetual Superficial Betterment all come together in a New Years media fury of headlines aimed at telling you what’s wrong with your body, how to fix it, and how much happier you’ll be once you do.

If you see them literally having sex with each other, there’s at least a chance they have some unresolved romantic feelings.

It’s…this is my Vietnam, you guys. It was scary and brutal and traumatic and it’s really hard for me to talk about and there’s no possible way you can relate unless you were there.

On Wednesdays we wear pink

You’ve gone from drinking different things every time to you go out to having “your drink” and rarely deviating.

In any room, theirs was the face that loved and got you when no one else ever could quite as completely, and a lot who didn’t get you at all. You believed you would always be that way together. Until one day, you’re not.

I really cannot deal with another “insider’s guide to Atlanta” that tells you to go to the Varsity. Sit down, amateurs. Whoever wrote that sh*t probably lives in Cobb County. Here’s a small sampling of what is truly up.

We are the best versions of ourselves when we are doing what we love, not when we are trying to deliberately convince someone to love us.

I hate to break it to all the Rachels of the world, but Ross was totally fine when he boned the girl at the copy place.

Broad declaration: there is no feeling more fantastic than those first few days at the end of summer when you walk outside in the morning to unexpectedly crisp air and blue skies and your brain instantly wakes up from its hazy, humidity-drunk slumber and is all, “LIFE!” It’s like an orgasm for your soul.

In a perfect world of fat bank accounts and a line of friends with magically empty bedrooms, you would be able to retreat to friendlier real estate as soon as your relationship crumbled.

It seems like everything that could be created or built has already been done. Finding new creative real estate in NYC feels like an insurmountable challenge.

Since there’s no definite benchmark to look forward to, 26 often just easily walks in one night while you’re out with friends at your usual bar, half celebrating, half just having a normal night. You’re 26. No big deal. Thanks for buying me a drink. No, I’m gonna go home early.

I’m inclined to think it’s a coincidence that in that year, everything I believed, every relationship I held dear, every truth I thought I could rest on, the very filters through which I viewed the world shifted: painfully, awkwardly, awesomely, and so on. But then I observe every other goddamn 25-year-old ever­ —and hey, look! It happens to everyone.