Karen Noble

So what is your aim? I really want to know. Is this a game to you? Is it like, “Hey, let’s see if this chick is still willing to respond to me.”

I know it’s not sexy or complicated or cool, but that’s the beauty of love. You can stop caring about having someone, because you have someone.

I will never be the person you want. Not really. I can be a shadow of that person, striving really hard to actually get there. But I never will.

“But you know, when they go hang out with their girlfriends and complain about us or when we don’t do something basic in the right way, whatever. That way where you love us, but we’re idiots.”

Oh Kelly Clarkson and Darren Criss, I worship at your altars.

I picture your heart like a series of doors. I unlock one and slip a little bit further inside, only to be greeted by another door and another lock.

Is it possible to be 100 percent honest all the time and not hurt the other person’s feelings?

They’ll literally be in the middle of talking about puppies or rainbows and then they’ll turn, vitriol spewing from their gnarled mouths, yell “Yankees suck!” with a vengeance and then turn back pleasantly to the conversation at hand.

Should you say it during sex? Should you declare it at a fancy dinner where he wears a tuxedo and you wear a ball gown? Write it in a note left on her kitchen table?

“I’m already over it.” Like “I’m an adult,” that’s one of those statements that saying out loud makes not true.

The Kinsey Institute wants to hear your weird, effed up, tragic or out-there sex stories.

Buy some sparkly, ridiculous temporary tattoos. (Maybe unicorns? Or American flags?) Put them all over yourself.

Aside from his parents, you’re the one I need to impress the most. Don’t make it hard on me. I’m already bugging.

Was I supposed to die? And then chill in a coffin in the forest and wait for you to come back and kiss me and wake me up? Am I freakin’ Snow White?

They come to your art show. They encourage you to practice with your band. They don’t get jealous or upset when you have to work late. They genuinely want you to succeed.

Tell me the place we’re going is “Omg, so close. Like two blocks away seriously” when it’s actually seventeen blocks away and you have no concept of distance or time.

You Googled me and mistook me for a serial killer with my same name. I am not that serial killer!

Open Excel and start making a nonsensical spreadsheet or one of your favorite bars ranked by drink price and ambiance.