An ode to the single lady who likes being single

For the longest time, I’ve tried to convince myself that I need to be in a relationship. I go on dates with people, really nice people, and then just never speak to them again. I try to date people who are clearly not trying to date me, and then get upset when they don’t want something more meaningful. I am in a perpetual cycle of “Why don’t I like these amazing people?!” and “Why doesn’t this person see how amazing I am?!” It is, to say the least, shitty.

I don’t know why I’m telling myself that I need a companion. I’ve never been a relationship type of person, and if you know me, you know that I mean that honestly and truthfully. I’ve never needed the reassurance, the dependence, the vulnerability, the time devotion, the dedication that comes with having a significant other. So why am I telling myself that I need it now?

Long story short, it’s because of my bitch-ass friends (and I say that in the nicest way possible, because I love all of you so so much, even though you’ve all found love and I’m still making out with guys who have been to prison in the hopes that they will buy me shots.)

I am a perpetual third wheel. I hang out with a lot of couples, I guess they feel no kind of threat when I’m around. But watching couples interact with each other, you kind of can’t help but to want what they have. The hand holding, the whispering, the giggling, the all-around adorableness of couples.Watching my bitch-ass friends be so in love is kind of heart-wrenching. I’ve started wondering if I will ever find that kind of love.

When I bring this up with my coupled friends, they all have different opinions on why I hadn’t found the love of my life yet. Apparently I’m dating “emotionally unavailable men”. This is a common excuse we give ourselves and other women when we want to avoid the truth: that we kinda fell for an asshole. Apparently I’m not “looking in the right places”. I’m told to stop looking for guys at bars, guys at the gym, guys on Tinder, by girls who have found their boyfriends at the bar/at the gym/on Tinder. Then it’s that I’m not looking for the “right type of guy”. I like guys who are independent, who make their own rules, who might be a bit more passionate about their jobs rather than their relationships – it just so happens that all of those characteristics are unmistakeably found in guys who are douchebags. Long story short, there is always something I’m doing wrong – but there is one very prominent opinion.

“You need to make someone value you,” my friend’s boyfriend told me one day.
“What do you mean?” I prompted him, sadly knowing what he was going to say next.
“You need to have, like, a five-date rule. For … you know. Like, save yourself, kind of.”

It took all of my strength not to roll my eyes. The “saving yourself for someone” reasoning is truly the most barbaric and outdated of practices. Don’t get me wrong, I also have girlfriends say this to me, not just men. But I won’t lend myself to such an antique school of thought. The right guy will not equate your willingness to have sex with your worthiness to become their girlfriend. Sex isn’t the reason guys don’t want to commit to me. If anything, it’s the reason they stay (ayoooo).

Then, I was talking to one of my co-perpetually-single friends and she hit the nail on the head.

“I don’t think we want to be in a relationship,” she said. “We’re dating half-heartedly; it takes us weeks to plan out dates with guys we don’t even want to see. We convince ourselves to date them just because they have a good job, their own place, a nice car and we think they’re secure and stable and safe. They just turn out to be boring. I think we just want to have fun.”

And she was totally right. I realized that I had been telling myself I wanted something without putting the necessary effort into it. It’s like telling yourself you want tickets to a Beyoncé concert then peacing out when you see the $300 price tag. I don’t know if I like Beyoncé that much. What if I spend $300 on the tickets and the show isn’t as good as I thought it was gonna be? What if I spend $300 on the tickets and then something better pops up that night that would have only cost me $50 and is much more enjoyable? What if I spend $300 on the tickets and then tomorrow Beyoncé tells me she doesn’t love me anymore? Like, you get it. Some people spend $300 on the tickets and they would gladly do it over and over again, no matter the debt, the time, the place, and they have the time of their lives. There’s nothing wrong with that. And one day I’ll be able to do that too! Maybe. Maybe not.

Now, women who “like to have fun” don’t necessarily have the best reputations. I know that because I don’t have the best reputation with certain people. Even my own friends have made jokes at my expense. Even I have made jokes at my own expense. But I won’t apologize because I’m living my life the way I want to and you’re stuck in a relationship you decided to get yourself into when you were 16 and are now too comfortable and/or chubby to get yourself out of and find something more exciting. That’s not how I roll.

I debated writing this because I didn’t want to be seen as bitter, cynical, old-maidish, etc. But I’ve realized, while writing this, how empowering it is to just own all of the things you love about being single. I like making my own money and not having someone judge me for spending it on stupid things like self-tanner or Yves St. Laurent mascara or that weird star-shaped fruit I’ve never tasted and will probably rot after I forget that I bought it or acai-berry-flavoured vodka or a $33 phone case with a picture of a slice of pizza on it, or … you get it. I like having my own schedule, I like not being forced to go to family dinners/reunions/activity days. I like being able to go out with my friends and drink, dance, have fun, then grab pizza with a guy at 3am. I like climbing into my warm bed and not having to share space and covers with another person. I like waking up and having the whole day in front of me to do whatever I want. I like spending nights awake, alone with myself, writing essays like these and not worrying about who is going to judge me for them. I like powering through a plate of fries and washing it down with a whole pitcher of sangria without worrying about how I’m going to look naked, how I’m going to keep our sex life alive and fun and exciting, how I’m going to “keep” my boyfriend. I like a lot of things about being single. And if those things make me bitter, cynical, old-maidish, etc. then I guess they are titles I’m willing to accept.

So, for the time being, I’m not going to stress over finding the love of my life. I’m not going to stress over being in a relationship. I’m not going to stress about finding the right guy or finding him in the right place. I’m not going to stress about why a guy thinks I am or am not having sex with him. I’m not going to stress about what people think I’m doing. I’m just gonna do me. And you should too.

How to be single on Valentine’s Day

I hate Valentine’s Day. Not because I’m always single for it (okay maybe a little bit because I’m always single for it) but because I think it’s dumb. I think it’s the dumbest holiday in the world. I used to work in retail and I can tell you that Valentine’s Day is good for nothing unless you like fighting with your partner about exactly you want out of Valentine’s Day. Some people want a big sha-bang with roses, chocolates, a night of intense and passionate lovemaking. Others want to order Chinese food, drink boxed wine, stay in their pajamas and fall alseep on the couch together re-watching Making a Murderer. I’m not saying one is wrong and the other is right ……. but I think we all know which one I would choose. Valentine’s Day is also a great way to hate all of your friends who are in relationships. “We’re not even doing anything that special,” your friend will say, “he just rented a cottage in Vermont and we’re gonna spend the weekend skiing and having sex. I, like, don’t even want to go to be honest. I’d rather stay here with you and eat cheap chocolate hahaha.” NEWS FLASH. NO ONE FUCKING BELIEVES YOU. Fuck outta here with that bullshit. We all know it’s gonna be the best weekend of your life, just own it. I don’t need your pity.

See? I’m not bitter at all.

Anyways. Here is a play-by-play of how to be single on Valentine’s Day.

1) Pretend it’s not happening

I love living in denial. Ask any one of my friends or any single one of my professors from university. Whether it’s an impending writing deadline or the gas light has come on in my car or I see a customer in line who looks like they’re going to yell at me, you bet your ass I’m just going to trick myself into thinking it’s not even happening. So I do the same thing with Valentine’s Day. Anytime someone mentions it, my eyes glaze over and I just stare off into space until my brain registers a shift in the conversation. If I see heart-shaped chocolate, I just pretend that chocolate has always looks like that. If I see cute little teddy bears holding signs that say stupid shit like, “I love you BEARy much,” I just pretend that the person who designed it is in jail now for murder. Just normal things like that.

2) Use it to your advantage

When I get over the fact that it’s actually happening, I use it as an excuse to do whatever the fuck I want to do. Going on a Tinder spree? Valentine’s Day. Spending $35 on chocolate at Bulk Barn? V-day, motherfuckers. Going to see a cheap movie alone? It’s fucking Valentine’s WEEK, brah. Watching 14 hours of Netflix documentaries in one day? Valentine’s. Day. Driving by your ex’s house in the hopes that he’s outside and hopefully looks filled with remorse about ever letting you go and looks like he’s gained 20 pounds? You know why. VALENTINE’S DAY, YO.

3) Make better plans

I find that being single on Valentine’s Day opens a lot of doors. Chances are, if you go out, the couples will only be out until about midnight when they’ll all want to change out of their fancy clothes and/or want to go home to sex each other. Then it will only be fun, single people left! There’s nothing more fun, hilarious or, quite frankly, dangerous than a single person who is trying to drink away their loneliness. If there’s one thing drunk single people like more than shots it’s doing shots off of another drunk single person’s body. That sounds like a night that could never go badly, right? And if you don’t want to drown your sorrows, go do something you like to do. Make this into a V-day between you and you. If you like mini-putt, go fuckin’ putt, girl. If you wanna go see a movie, round up four other friends who don’t have plans and go see that movie! If you wanna eat a whole lobster dinner by yourself, fucking go for it!!! You do you, booboo!

4) Reflect on your past

Valentine’s Day is a great day to look back on past relationships and think about the good times, the bad times and all the times in between. Think of it as a January 1st but for your love life. A rejuvenation of sorts. Remember that time you threw a full can of peanuts at that one guy? Yeah, probably don’t do that ever again you crazy bitch. Remember that time you spent way too much time pining over one guy when he clearly didn’t reciprocate those feelings? You don’t deserve that! Don’t do that again. Remember when you and that guy built a bonfire and drank beers all night? Yeah, do more shit like that. Remember when that guy taught you how to skate and didn’t even mind having to pick you up off an icy surface for like two hours straight? Hang around more guys that would do that for you. Set yourself some relationship goals and crush them!

5) Celebrate with your best friend

Who said that Valentine’s Day was just for couples? Maybe they meant a coupla’ hotties who know how to have a good time, am I right?! Okay yeah that was bad we’re not all perfect let’s just move on. I had a really good conversation with one of my really good friends this weekend. We were both kinda tipsy but the underlying message was there; we’re in love. Love comes in so many shapes and sizes, so use Valentine’s Day as a way to say I love you to everyone you have any kind of feelings for. Your postman. The guy who works at the corner store near your house. The girl who told you that dress looked fierce on you when you didn’t bring a friend to the changing rooms with you. Your bestie, who always thinks you are your most beautiful and genuine self.

6) Hit up them thangs

And by that I mean text some dudes who you know are single. Notice how I said text some dudes who you know are single. Don’t be that girl hittin’ up them taken thangs. Even guys get lonely on Valentine’s Day – they have feelings too! So show them some love and maybe they, in turn, will show you some love. There’s nothing better than two non-committed, slightly intoxicated single people getting what they truly deserve on Valentine’s Day: some looooooooove (ifyaknowwhatimean).

At the end of the (v)day, don’t let a shitty Hallmark holiday ruin your week. Hit me up if you’re feeling sad and I’ll pump you full of cheap pink wine and corner store chocolates, like a true friend <3

Things working at a gym has taught me

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with the gym. Mainly the problem was that I wanted to be fit but I hated a medley of things associated with being fit, such as sweating, lifting things, going faster than a pace one would usually use to take a leisurely Sunday stroll, eating healthy and going to the gym. So, as you can tell, getting fit wasn’t really something I was willing to work for.

I did alright in college mainly because I had super long and gruelling days that meant making my own lunch, not having enough money to buy anything from the cafeteria and mandatory gym classes. But then university hit and I started going to school less, working more, going out more, glasses of champagne out on the dancefloor, hanging with some girls I’ve never seen bef- … wait, wtf, how did I get here?

Anyways, you get it. I got super fat. It was actually pretty fun. I ate a lot of pasta, I drank a lot of beer, I didn’t give a fuck about working out because I was playing rugby. It was actually the best two years of my life. But then my coach called me fat one day and when I stopped foaming at the mouth and screaming profanities I was like, “Oh yeah okay I see what you’re saying yeah maybe I’m getting a bit chubs.” So I started volunteering at a gym. I would go maybe twice a week. Once to volunteer and once to work out. I was still drinking excessively and being a generally horrible contribution to society, so that still took up a lot of my time. But it was a stepping stone.

Then they offered me a job there. It was a snowy afternoon in February and as I settled into my little nook at the front desk, the girl working asked why I looked so angry and sad. Despite that just being my normal face whenever I have to go outside on snowy afternoons, I told her that I hated my job, the past five years in retail had completely worn me out and I needed a change. She immediately asked if I wanted a job and ten seconds later I was in a pre-interview with her boss.

It was great, but the whole time I was like, “Have you seen me? My diet consists of five different types of cheese usually spread or melted onto some kind of white bread. I can’t work at a gym.” But I did. I started working at a gym. It was hard in the beginning. I found myself having to motivate others to come to the gym when I couldn’t even motivate myself to go to the gym. I found myself saying “Three to five times a week, minimum 30 minutes each time! That’s all it takes!” to members when I wasn’t even committing to it myself. What a fucking dummy, eh?

Then something changed. I quit some vices that were holding me back and started getting super into cardio. Eventually a couple of other girls at the front desk started working out too. Then we started working out together. Then we befriended an older, hilarious, literally insane personal trainer who made us programs that included things we had never heard of, like Turkish Get-Ups and Good Mornings and Preacher curls. He also taught me the importance and necessity of hamstring massages. It was great. I started feeling better, I started losing weight really fast and I started noticing my new-found strength when I was doing simple things like opening doors or going upstairs. My butt started to look even better and my tummy got flatter. I was happier, people started complimenting me more, guys at the gym started hitting on me. How could I ever have lived without this feeling? How could I ever have lived without muscular men hitting on me while I worked? I never want to go back to not having that in my life.

Now, I know it’s resolution season so I figured I would make a list of things I’ve learned from working at a gym in the hopes that maybe one of you will read it and decide to change your habits. Here they are.

1) No one is fucking looking at you when you’re working out

This was, weirdly enough, my biggest fear. I didn’t want to work out where people could see me. At the gym everyone feels watched, everyone feels like they’re not doing something properly and someone is going to call them out on it. Honestly, the first time I ever worked out in the weight room I was astounded by how many people were worried about being watched but then did nothing but watch themselves. Seriously. The number of guys in there doing thirty minutes of tricep dips followed by fifteen minutes of flexing their triceps in the mirrors is frankly commendable. And hilarious. No one cares what you’re wearing, no one cares if you have Lululemon pants, no one cares if you are wearing a gray shirt and you sweat through it. You look ugly in the gym so you can look good outside of the gym. Ight?

2) Even if you’re doing something wrong, you’re still doing something right

I’m not telling you to hit up the squat rack, strap on four plates for your first go and see where you end up. Because it will definitely be the hospital. But even if you’re doing an exercise with small little inconsistencies or imperfections, you’re still exercising, you’re still sweating and you’re still putting in work. Exercising doesn’t have to be elaborate. There’s this guy at the gym who, whenever I’m working out, has corrections for me. It gets frustrating because I honestly don’t care. If I’m doing it with proper form I really don’t think I need to lift it half an inch higher in order to hit some super obscure muscle in my back that will probably never appear no matter how hard I work. Know your limits, do your work, don’t listen to fuckboys in the weight room. Simple.

3) You do need to eat well, but not super well

I’m planning on eating my body weight in sushi tonight. And I’m not even going to feel bad about it. I’ve put in three days of exercise this week and I’ve eaten relatively well. New studies have come out showing that the pursuit of perfectly healthy eating is in fact kind of unhealthy. Which makes sense if you think about it. I know a girl who stopped eating cheese (friendship almost over) because someone told her it was the reason that she wasn’t losing weight. At a barbeque a year later she had one slice on a hamburger and spent the rest of the night puking. That seems more unhealthy than continuing to eat cheese in the first place, don’t you think? By demonizing foods and making them seem “bad”, we’re taking away things that we need to survive. You need cheese to survive, people, it’s not that fucking hard of a concept.

4) Celebrate the little steps

I once took off half of my shirt at work to send a Snapchat of my bicep to a friend. It ended in me hearing someone coming, then being caught under my desk by the janitor – my shirt safely on again but my dignity completely gone. I tried to play it off like I had lost my earring for a solid two minutes before he realized I still had all my earrings in. But I was still really proud of my new baby bicep. And I was upset that I didn’t get to send my Snapchat. You need to celebrate the little victories, like being able to make it to the third floor and still be breathing like a normal person, or seeing a semblance of a teardrop on your quad. Or not silently giving up halfway through sex while still having to pretend that you aren’t dying from physical exhaustion.

5) Don’t quit

I’m not about that motivational gym life so I’ll keep it short. Don’t quit, keep going, you got this.

Resolutions: 2016 edition

It’s that time of year, y’all! You go to the bar, the mall, the salon, a McDonalds anytime after 2am on a Saturday and it’s just buzzing with women saying things like, “Stacy, this year is my year. It is the year of Melanie and NO ONE WILL RUIN IT!” or “New year, new me, babe!” Fast forward to mid-March and Stacy is texting Melanie, “Girl I told you to stop me from going home with Mark last night and also why did I wake up with a half-eaten vegetarian pizza shoved into my bag and also I’m not wearing the same underwear I started the night in.” Long story short, resolutions are fucking bullshit. But here are a list of mine.

1) Be more professional

I am, potentially, the least professional person you’ve ever met. I recently got a new job (thank you, thank you) and I was invited to a holiday lunch with my boss and literally all of his bosses. It was terrifying and I freaked the fuck out. Below is a screenshot of a text I sent my best friend the morning of the holiday lunch that I think will do all of the explaining for me.


Professionality is never something that I strive for. I find being professional has a time and place. I’ve always gotten people to open up to me by being the most unprofessional version of myself. I think it’s weird that we pretend we’re not all huge weirdos with weird thoughts and weird feelings. No one should ever be that professional. But I’m a big girl now. And big girls don’t talk about blow jobs over turkey lunches.

2) Stop going out with guys because “I feel like I should”

I do this a lot, where I’ll start talking to a guy who I don’t really see a future with but who I appreciate as a conversationalist or a pretty-alright friend. Then he’ll casually mention hanging out and I’ll agree. Next thing I know he’s making a reservation at a restaurant and figuring out a time to pick me up at my house. What?! When did this jump from talking about our ideal number of pets (unlimited dogs, every time) to a straight-up date? Do I call him out on it? Do I tell him I just want to be friends? What could be the harm in just going? What have I got to lose? What if this is his version of a chill friend hang? And even if it is a date, why should I say no? He’s put in a lot of effort to get to know me! What if I go on the date and develop feelings for him and we fall in love and get engaged and live happily ever after? I’ll never know unless I go, right? Wrong. Those nights always end in awkward kiss-dodging and extreme regret in having not been upfront.

3) Learn how to get over someone

How? Like, how does this happen? It’s so hard. It’s weird when someone comes into your life and makes an impact on it – no matter how big or how small – and then all of a sudden they’re gone. And you’re left trying not to associate them with that song on the radio that was popular when you were together or trying not to think of them every time you see Oreos because they loved Oreos or trying not to think of that time they kissed you for the kind-of-first-time in front of your garage every time you open your garage. It’s frustrating for me because I don’t like to admit that I am hung up on someone. I like to just pretend that I am okay with someone not being in my life anymore but the truth is that it fucking sucks. So I promise, in 2016, to translate that hurt and sadness into something productive, like my writing. Or painting. Or making voodoo dolls … joking! … kind of.

4) Start buying nicer clothes

Here’s the thing. I like buying clothes. I like buying very cheap clothes. I have about 54684516835 of the exact same t-shirt from Forever 21 in like a million different colours because they were on sale for $3 each. I have a cubby full of shoes at work and every pair of them cost me less than $5. I like it when someone compliments me on something and I can be like, “I bought this for $0.25 at a gas station!” But the thing is, these things don’t last very long. I need to get some quality clothes. This goes back to my first point about being a bit more professional. I realized when I got my new job that I wouldn’t be able to wear stretchy pants and oversized shirts to work anymore, so I shed a tear and bought a $50 blazer. Lord help me.

5) I want to learn how to fight someone

For real. I’ve only ever thrown a punch once in my life and I consider myself pretty lucky that it actually landed. Because I have very shitty hand-eye coordination. I don’t want to learn how to fight someone because I want to actually fight someone. Well, maybe because I want to fight someone, but more because I think I need a violent outlet on days where I feel a bit down, you know? I used to have rugby, but I haven’t played in a couple of seasons and my body and mind definitely feel it. Something about bringing someone to the ground just using your own force and momentum is actually really liberating. So if anyone out there wants to teach me how to fight, hit me up.

6) Be more confident

I consider myself a pretty confident person. More confident than most, I would say. Most days, if I were to be asked how I feel about my general self I would probably respond with something like, “How dare you ask me that, obviously I am the shit and you need to take a seat.” Or something along those lines. But there are still times when all of that confidence goes out the window. Example: I hate it when I’m meeting someone somewhere and I don’t know where they’re situated. I hate it when I’m going on a date with a guy and we’re meeting at a restaurant and he texts me, “I got us a table! See you soon.” LIKE NO, COME GET ME PLEASE. I hate looking around for people. It’s weird, I know, I’m weird, get over it. Also, when I talk to boys who I’m interested in, I’m like a scared baby deer. All wide eyes and unstable footing. I was once trying to tell a cute boy at work that I had been there too long and it was time to go home so I said, “I’m past my due date,” and just kind of walked away. Like WTF CHRISTINE now he thinks you’re pregnant! What a goose.

7) Read more

I used to work at a bookstore and I would know all the cool, new books that were coming out and I got a sick discount on all of them and I would read all the goddamn time. Now I work at a gym and I never read and I spend all of my time on Facebook or looking at pictures of dogs or reading my own Twitter feed because I’m fucking hilarious. Seriously I waste so much time on social media when I could be getting lost in books and it makes me kind of sad to think about that. So I’m gonna start reading more! Just gotta check Facebook first. And maybe Instagram.

8) Learn how to go on a real date

This was actually on my resolutions list last year but clearly it never happened. I hate dates. You all know this. But I think it’s about time I learn how to go on one in like a normal way. Dinner? Sure! Coffee? Why not! A drink? Let’s do it! In reality all of these dates sound super fucking boring and I would rather watch 14 hours of Justin Bieber music videos on repeat. But I think there is a way to find a happy medium when it comes to going on dates. Especially in Montreal; there are so many weird, beautiful, unconventional date ideas. I just need to find them. (And if any of you want to go on a weird beautiful unconventional date with me, you know, just for like, experimental purposes ……. lemme know.)

9) Eat less cheese

Who are we kidding this is never happening.

10) Eat more cheese

That’s better.

Relationships you will have in your twenties

I’ve only lived through four years of my twenties and already I can tell you every kind (probably not, but I can try) of relationship you will experience. I use the term relationship very loosely because honestly there’s no other way to describe a sexual friendship other than “sexual friendship” and I feel like that’s just a bit weird. Like you are never introducing someone and you’re like, “This is my sexual friend, we bang our genitals together because we’re physically attracted to each other and because it feels good.” So for the sake of this list, we’re calling them relationships.

Here we go.

1) The important one

The important relationship is the one we have that probably starts in high school and ends right about the time when you realize that the world is bigger than the 150 people you were stuck in a building with for three to five years. This is the one that teaches you how to love, how to fight, how to make up, how to kiss, how to show your true feelings, how to pick your battles, how to relax with another human, how to buy birthday presents, how to listen to someone, how to fuck, how to make love, how to give a hand job, how to give up on hand jobs because they are dumb (Where do I look? Do I look at your penis or do I stare into your eyes? Neither seems like an appropriate place to look. Do I close my eyes? Does that make it seem like I don’t want to be doing this? Well good, because I don’t.) This relationship doesn’t need to be long, it doesn’t need to span years and years, but at the end of it, it will seem like it did because it taught you so much. It is the exact opposite of …

2) The one-night stand

This will teach you nothing except that tequila and roseé don’t mix well and that you should always walk a couple houses down to call a taxi after the deed is done. I’m a strong believer in that at some point in our lives we all need to have a one-night stand. Yeah, it’s sleazy and it’s uncomfortable and you’re drunk and he’s drunk but you just wanna get laid so you fucking go for it. You get to his place, it’s all dark, no need to turn on lights just in case he doesn’t look as good as he did back in the warm lighting of the bar you were just at. You take off his clothes and he takes off yours and you just both go straight for the good stuff (using protection, of course) but you don’t wanna feel around too much just in case he has, like, a weird third nipple or something. And then boom, done, finished, kaput. You don’t even have to pretend to care about cuddling or meeting his weird roommate. Sayonara, three-nips, it was nice fucking you.

3) The friends-with-benefits: the one that ends well

This is so super-rare. I had the pleasure of experiencing this and I can tell you hands-down that it was fucking amazing. I think what you need to do is just start having sex with someone you hate in real life. Whether it’s the fact that he’s told you, in all seriousness, that “Women can’t lead, Christine, it’s not in your DNA!” or that he thinks Donald Trump is what America truly needs, or that he thinks his mom is a bitch. Just something about his personality that you can remind yourself about in times of trouble. Having someone to call and just hang out and talk with and have sex with is truly empowering. You feel like you’re in control of your emotions and that you can handle anything. McDreamy died? Calling my FWB. I got a promotion at work? Callin’ up dat FWB. It’s Tuesday? CALL HIM UP SISTER, YOU’RE GONNA GET SEX TONIGHT! But sometimes, emotions get the best of us and we go through …

4) The friends-with-benefits: the one that ends horribly, horribly wrong

“One of you will catch feelings!” You read that in one of your friends’ voices, didn’t you? Because you’ve heard it before from them, haven’t you? Ugh, we’ve all been through that FWB relationship where we convince ourselves that we aren’t actually falling for the other person. “I don’t like him. I just offered to do his laundry and take his cat to the vet. I’m just doing it for the sex.” Sweetie. Sweetie. No. You actually like that guy. I don’t even like doing my own goddamn laundry. And I fucking hate cats. We do it for a while, the whole casual thing, and then we see him update his Snap story with another girl and we’re like oh, okay, that’s fine, he’s allowed to hang out with other girls, we aren’t serious, we aren’t committed, we’re just having sex with each other, we’re just having fun, and now he’s having sex with her, and that’s fine, but now she needs to die, and I’m going to go to jail, and I’m going to have to learn to fashion a shank out of a toothbrush, all ’cause of this bitch. It’s hard to cut these relationships off because technically the only reason you’re ending it is because you can’t be cool with something that you thought you were cool with and that kinda makes it look like you’re flip-flopping. But trust me, cut it off. Like you’ve got gangrene in your leg. Chop that thing off. You don’t want to have to convince someone that you are the amazing, beautiful person you know yourself to be. If they truly valued you, they’d be able to see that already.

5) The friend who turned into something more

These relationships are so beautiful. When you ask a couple, “How did you meet?” and they’re like, “Oh, well, we were friends for a couple of years and then we were both at a party, we got a bit drunk and then we confessed our love to each other.” And you’re just sitting there looking at all of your guy friends arguing over who can kick their leg the highest in the air and you’re like, “I will never find true love.” A lot of people are super nervous to get themselves into this situation. They’re always like, “Hmm, but I don’t wanna lose a good friend!” Listen up, to all those people: in kindergarten, I had what I thought were good friends. My definition of a good friend at that age was someone who shared their Polly Pockets with me and let me feed their Tamagotchi and maybe gave me like three Pokemon cards for only two of mine. If that was still my definition of a good friend, I would have no friends. Your friends are going to change whether you like it or not. Go for it. Kiss all your friends and see if any of them are worthy of your love. Right now. Let me know how it goes.


6) The one where one of you cheats

I’m about to give you some real talk right now. Relationships aren’t like diets. You can’t just have a massive cheat day where you go out and just have sex with anyone you want to and it’s all okay because you’ve been really good at only having sex with one person all week. I’ve never been cheated on, but I’ve helped someone cheat. And it felt pretty shitty. She never found out, they broke up a couple of months later, but I’ll never forget the sadness I felt that night after everything was over. We were both oddly silent for two people who had just hooked up, he rolled over and texted her that he was on his way to go pick her up for some art gallery they were going to, I kind of just got up and left. It’s never as good as you think it’s going to be, and it’s rarely ever worth it. If you’re thinking about cheating, you should probably just try talking to your partner first.

7) The one who’s probably too good for you

He’s always opening doors for you, putting your seat-belt on when you forget to, bringing you flowers at work, getting you water when you’re too drunk, holding your heels for you when you’re too drunk, helping you walk when you’re too drunk, you know what, you get it, I don’t need to go on. The good guy is what we all need but none of us actually want him. “He seems like a lil bitch,” is something that I say to my friends a lot when I start dating a new guy. I don’t know why I associate nice people with being little bitches, I just do. But all the nice-guy relationships I’ve been in are the ones I regret ending. I never sit back and think, “Hmm, that guy who deleted me off BBM right after the first time we had sex … never should’ve let him go.”

8) The one who’s so so so bad for you but you do it anyway

This is the kind of guy I like. He’s bad. He’s really bad. But that’s what makes him so good. He rarely returns your messages, and when he does they’re super short and badly written, kinda like as if he had written them while getting a blow job. He barely ever asks you to hang out and when he does he claims to be super busy so you have to hang out at really odd times of the day/night. He’s always on his phone when you’re together, he’s not into the conversation, he doesn’t ever really look you in the eyes. It all kinda has you wondering why he even started talking to you in the first place. But then he’ll say something, like, “You looked really cute the other day. I didn’t wanna say anything because you were with your friends,” and you’re like omg he totally noticed me!!! Or he’ll do something sweet like lay your head on his shoulder and kiss your forehead and you immediately forget every unanswered text, every unreturned Snapchat, every halfhearted “Hey,” when you crossed paths around town. And you’re like, “Yeah, it’s totally gonna be different now!” and then it never is. It starts to gradually fade away and you’re just there like, “Hey! Remember me? You thought I was cute that one day!”

9) The one that got away

Everyone has one. That one person that they are convinced would have been the love of their life if they had just given it a little more time or effort or gumption or elbow-grease or whatever you want to call it. As someone who doesn’t believe in “the one”, I’m a pretty faithful believer in the one that got away. I think in order for us to be successful in our relationships we need to understand that there might not be one person out there for us. We have people who come in and out of our love lives and that’s okay. If one got away, there’s another one around the corner. If one got away it means that we learned something from it. Right?

10) The one that “just works”

This one is still a huge mystery to me. Not entirely convinced it exists. I’ll keep y’all updated.

We need to talk

We’ve gotta talk about nudes. Everyone reading this right now has had an experience with nudes. Taking them, sending them, receiving them, printing them out and keeping them in their wallet. K maybe not that last one. But maybe?

Anyways. Everyone has an opinion on them, everyone has a story about them, everyone has a very weird way of talking about them. All of my friends make fun of me because I hate it when people hold my phone. When I give my phone to someone to put their number in, I watch them like a hawk. I had to lend my phone to a friend so he could make a phone call the other day and when the call was over I accidentally punched him in the face while reaching for it because I was so excited to have it back.

My friends make fun of me because they say the reason why I don’t like it when people hold my phone is because I’m afraid they’ll look through my pictures and see my nudes. And it’s true, I don’t deny it when it comes up. Sometimes I look like a fucking smokeshow, and as a girl who’s struggled with body issues her whole life, fuck you if you think I’m not gonna snap pics of those moments. One day, when I design a time machine, I will go back to 100-pound, 11-year-old, 4-foot-8 Christine and be like, “Hey bitch, wassup?! One day, you’ll wear lace underwear every day and look like this!!” and past me will be like “Wowwwww, but will I ever not be a ginger?!” and I’ll look down at her and say, “Yup, by the time you turn 17 you won’t resemble Carrot Top anymore and you will look less like someone threw orange paint at your face and more like a lightly-freckled porcelain doll.” Then I’ll pat her head and let her go home and eat a one-pound Michelina’s fettucine alfredo frozen dinner before mom gets home.

The thing is, I don’t understand why my friends make fun of me for having nudes on my phone. I like dating, I like guys, I like making the guys I date happy. If that means sending them a picture of the underwear I’m wearing at 2pm, that’s what I’m gonna do. It doesn’t make me a bad girl, it makes me a girl who thinks guys getting boners in public places in the afternoon is hilarious and kinda cute. I’m not out here sending nudes to every guy who breathes in my direction, every guy who matches with me on Tinder, every guy who’s ever sent me a late-night text. You think I spent $80 on one Victoria’s Secret bra so that every motherfucker with Snapchat can see it? Nuh uh. You gotta earn that picture. You gotta work for that picture. This bra has diamonds in it, bitch.

I mostly take pictures of myself – brace yourself here – for myself. I truly, deeply, like myself. I know that’s weird to hear in a society that is constantly telling girls they aren’t tall enough, aren’t skinny enough, aren’t strong enough, aren’t tanned enough, whatever new thing is “in” for girls to care about. Don’t get me wrong – I know I’m far from perfect, but I have no problem attracting guys, so I must be doing something right (I personally think it’s my naturally big ass and my sometimes borderline-offensive sense of humour, but if you have a different theory I’d love to hear it.) Sometimes I’ll lie in bed at night and look through my pictures and think, “Damn girl. You’re fucking doing you and I love it,” and there is no better feeling than being your own goddamn cheerleader.

But yes, there are guys who will try to fuck you over. There are guys out there who think that because you’re willing to share your body with him, you’re willing to share it with anyone. Which is shitty and disgusting and horrifying and just plain rude. To betray that trust, that vulnerability, is unacceptable. They deserve a lifetime of bad, toothy blow jobs and badly-cooked steak. They deserve to be randomly punched in the balls by unnaturally strong children and be reminded every day that they are disappointments to their mothers.

And while we’re on the topic – guys… when a girl sends you a nude, fucking reciprocate. I’m not saying you need to send us pictures of your dick. Quite the contrary. There’s nothing, I repeat, nothing exciting about a flaccid penis. Do not send us pictures of your flaccid penis. If you’re sending us a picture of it, it should be at full attention. I shouldn’t have to be telling you this. But a simple “Damn, you look fucking hot,” is really appreciated. If you want to send us pictures that will make us swoon, send one of like a paycheck you earned at a steady job, or one of you studying at your dining room table, or one of a grown-up meal that you made yourself, or one of you hugging your mother. That’ll really get us going.

At the end of the day, whether you take naked pictures or yourself or not, don’t let anyone tell you what you can or cannot do. Don’t give into guys who pressure you to take them and, alternatively, don’t think that if you do take them you’re some kind of filthy STD-ridden peasant woman. Do you, boo.

10 thoughts I – and probably you – have on a daily basis

1. “I can sleep another five minutes”

A brief look into my life every day from 9-10am will reveal to you that I snooze my alarm every five minutes for a full hour. For some reason I convince myself that five minutes will make the difference between me having an amazing day and me having a fucking shitty day. It’s five minutes, Christine, it’s not gonna do anything for you. But, I don’t want to commit to giving myself the extra hour of sleep if I don’t have to. That just makes me look fucking lazy. Like I’m already just waking up when a lot of other people have been awake and doing productive shit for a good two hours. I end up sleeping the extra hour anyway. I deserve it. For some reason that I can’t think of right now. It’ll come to me.

2. “You’re not allowed to eat dessert after breakfast”

I’m a 24 year old woman. I should understand the basics of feeding myself by now, but I just can’t grasp some things. Like why can’t I just eat Kraft Dinner for every meal? I can put hot dogs in it if I need protein. Bam. Problem solved. What is a macro? How many calories are in a croissant? Why is everyone obsessed with quinoa? Should I be obsessed with quinoa? How do vegetarians live? Like, don’t they ever look at a juicy fucking delicious-looking steak and go, “Damn, I fucked up”? How do some people never put butter on anything? Do I eat too much soft cheese? How many minigos is too many minigos to eat in one sitting? Should I still be eating minigos, as an adult? If I only eat three spoonfuls of ice cream standing up in front of my fridge, do those calories still count? What if I simultaneously do lunges while eating a muffin? Don’t those two things cancel each other out? So many questions. (Also, breakfast dessert should be a real thing.)

3. “You should go to the gym”

The daily struggle. Yesterday I called work at noon, still in bed (I deserved that sleep-in, too, for the same unknown reason as referenced in point number one) to ask what time I worked, and my friend (who started her work day at 6am…) told me we were working out at 3pm. Now, at noon, still in bed, I thought to myself that this would literally be impossible. I couldn’t even imagine getting out of my bed, let alone getting out of my bed to go lift heavy things for an hour and a half. That sounds like my worst nightmare. But I did it. And I try to do it as much as possible. I did thirty minutes of cardio this weekend with a wicked hangover and only thought about vomiting every five minutes. So I guess you could say I have my gym-going completely under control.

4. “Don’t get back in your bed”

I literally don’t have anywhere else to sit in my room. I used to have this ridiculous blow-up chair made out of pink see-through plastic in my room but it was super uncomfortable and I kept popping holes in it by doing stupid things like leaving forks on it and then sitting on said forks. So I’ve had a hard time committing to putting another chair in here ever since, inflatable or otherwise. My bed always looks so comfortable. It’s never made and the pillow covers all have mascara stains on them from drunkenly falling asleep without taking my makeup off, but it’s the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. I love my bed and it loves me. I hope. Needless to say, I always end up falling back to sleep as soon as I spend more than 10 minutes in bed.

5. “This shower is taking too long”

It takes me a solid ten minutes of standing in my bathroom looking for a bomb shower playlist to even think about getting in the shower. Your shower playlist needs to be legit, it needs to set you up for the day and it needs to be filled with songs you can’t help but sing out loud. Then when I actually get in the shower it takes me another five minutes to actually touch soap. I like standing under the water and singing and thinking about what my work day is gonna be like and what shows I’m gonna watch later on Netflix. Also, the hotter the water the better. Seriously, when I come out of the shower I’m the colour of a boiled lobster.

6. “What pair of black pants should you wear today?”

I literally own 12 pairs of black pants and wear them on rotation. Working at a gym is horrible for your wardrobe. I’m always dressed like I’m going to work out and 80% of the time I’m definitely not on my way to work out. On the plus side, my ass looks pretty decent in yoga pants and I’m always ridiculously comfortable. Take that, office jobs!

7. “Don’t text that guy. But maybe you should. But don’t!”

The constant debate. I do this thing where I over-exaggerate everything that I feel. Like if I’m even the tiniest bit hungry I’ll announce to anyone listening that I’m “the hungriest person who ever lived in the whole world.” Or if I’m tired I’ll tell my mother that I “wish I’d never been born so I didn’t ever have to know what being tired felt like.” You know, normal stuff like that. This has extended into one of the best and funniest rituals ever. My friend and I will tell each other how potential prospects are going by telling each other we’re getting married, or getting divorced. Examples include …

“He liked my Facebook profile picture. I think we’re engaged.”
“He texted me first yesterday, we’re planning a winter weddding.”
“He opened my snap and didn’t snap me back. I’m filing our divorce papers asap.”
“Another girl tagged him in a picture on Instagram. I hope the kids know the divorce isn’t their fault.”
“I just had a ten-minute conversation with the cute janitor in the staff kitchen. I think I’m pregnant with his child.”

We only do it because we’re actually super nervous about what all of these things mean and our only coping mechanism is our quick wit and unbeatable comedic timing. I wanna be able to tell you to text the boy, but I’m also super nervous about texting the boy. Because then that means we’re married and I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of commitment.

8. “Why are you still single?”

When I think about all my amazing qualities, I can’t help but ask myself why I haven’t locked anything down recently. First of all I’m hilarious and a great kisser, two things that are essential to every relationship. I’m also pretty good at texting back and I love cuddling. I’m independent and loyal and trustworthy and I like making people happy. I also give blood and that automatically makes me a great person. And I don’t even do it because they give you muffins afterwards. That’s just a bonus. But then I remember that I have a crippling fear of commitment and like to eat cheese strings alone in bed while watching rugby highlights and I just wouldn’t be able to do that with someone else. Right? Right. (If you like bed, cheese strings and rugby hit me up.)

9. “Is it too late to eat?”

My favourite part about bedtime, as a child, was that my parents let me choose a bedtime snack every night. It could be anything I wanted and obviously I chose cookies all the fucking time because what kind of child doesn’t ask for cookies when they can choose anything they want to eat?! But now as an adult I’m worried that eating a cookie at three in the morning means that I will gain 15 pounds by the time I wake up, so that rarely happens. Usually what does end up happening is I sit in bed for thirty minutes debating what to eat and finally thinking of a nice, healthy snack that is 2am-appropriate. Then I just end up eating cheese.

10. “You should have been asleep for two hours by now”

I’m a huge night owl. Being awake at 2am is so much more exciting than being awake at 8am. There are so many fun things to do, like… spend an hour looking through Instagram accounts of guys at the gym who think they’re a fucking inspiration because they have biceps as big as a small child’s head. Every caption sounds like this, by the way:

“To all you haters out there who never thought I would make it, look at me now. It took so much hard work to get where I am today and I’m so proud of myself. If I can make a difference in one person’s life then all of this was worth it. I’m a lion. I’m a fighter. No one can stop me, I’m winning this game. I won’t stop until my whole camera roll is full of gym mirror selfies and videos I forced my friends to take of me doing chin-ups while some old guy waits for me to finish using the machine. Thank you God for blessing me with my mom, who pays my gym membership, and my dad, who didn’t show me enough love as a child. You’re my motivation! Do you love me now, Dad? Pay attention to me.”

I improvised that last part, but you get it. I digress. Every night I stay up late and every morning I regret it (in the form of snoozing my alarm for an hour…)