How Not to Attract a Partner: Lessons from Awkward Encounters
Description
The Wingwoman
Change You Can Believe In: Yourself
Quick to Pass Judgment
Why Some People Hate Valentine’s Day
I’m Single on Valentine’s Day
My Secret Social Identity
What Exactly Is Dating? It’s Ambiguous.
Why Love Is Not a First Sight Thing
Chivalry Makes Women Feel Good
Relationship Experts: Hate The Player Or The Game?
The Double Standard of Men and Women
The Double Standard of Men and Women
The Double Standard of Men and Women
8 Ways to Make a Guy Not Want to Sleep with You
8 Ways to Make a Woman NOT Want to Sleep with You
Of course, these are just a couple of the reasons why I decided to move. I’m not even going to touch upon Dr. Mary Jane’s marijuana-fueled harmonica jam sessions or her utter disregard for privacy, quietness and bras.
Despite an afternoon thunderstorm, the day I moved was hot and the air was thick with a suffocating humidity. My white tee was soaked with rain and sweat and the front of it was browned with a dusting of dirt. Salty beads of sweat rolled down my baldhead and I looked- and smelled- like I had just sprinted through a marathon. After I packed the last box into the rental van, I returned to the apartment to give her my keys. Surprisingly, she handed me a stack of crisp hundred dollar bills. “Here is your security deposit, sir,” she said, matter-of-factly.
I folded the bills and shoved them into the front pocket of my cargo shorts. “I would give you a hug goodbye,” she said, stepping back and balancing her joint on the side of an ash tray, “but you’re all sweaty and dirty.”
“Nonsense!” I exclaimed. “Give me a hug!” Before she could react, I lunged forward and wrapped my big hairy, sweaty arms around her short, chubby body and squeezed her into me, making sure to smash her face into my wet, dirty bosom.
“Thanks for…everything,” I said. It might have sounded flippant, but in reality, deep down, I am grateful for Dr. Mary Jane. Yes, we didn’t always get along and she was a bully and she was loud and she forbade me to bring bacon in the house, but my two years in her apartment was a huge learning experience for me. I learned resourcefulness and tolerance. I learned to choose my battles and I learned the importance of standing up for myself. I wouldn’t want to necessarily do it again, but I also wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Well, except maybe for a date with Usher.
I thought I would feel sentimental in some way, leaving that apartment for the last time, but I didn’t even give my empty room one last dramatic look. I just turned heel and took off, eager to get to my new apartment where I could play loud music, let boys spend the night and fill the fridge with pork products.
Change You Can Believe In: Yourself
Quick to Pass Judgment
Why Some People Hate Valentine’s Day
I’m Single on Valentine’s Day
My Secret Social Identity
What Exactly Is Dating? It’s Ambiguous.
Why Love Is Not a First Sight Thing
Chivalry Makes Women Feel Good
Relationship Experts: Hate The Player Or The Game?
The Double Standard of Men and Women
The Double Standard of Men and Women
The Double Standard of Men and Women
8 Ways to Make a Guy Not Want to Sleep with You
8 Ways to Make a Woman NOT Want to Sleep with You
Of course, these are just a couple of the reasons why I decided to move. I’m not even going to touch upon Dr. Mary Jane’s marijuana-fueled harmonica jam sessions or her utter disregard for privacy, quietness and bras.
Despite an afternoon thunderstorm, the day I moved was hot and the air was thick with a suffocating humidity. My white tee was soaked with rain and sweat and the front of it was browned with a dusting of dirt. Salty beads of sweat rolled down my baldhead and I looked- and smelled- like I had just sprinted through a marathon. After I packed the last box into the rental van, I returned to the apartment to give her my keys. Surprisingly, she handed me a stack of crisp hundred dollar bills. “Here is your security deposit, sir,” she said, matter-of-factly.
I folded the bills and shoved them into the front pocket of my cargo shorts. “I would give you a hug goodbye,” she said, stepping back and balancing her joint on the side of an ash tray, “but you’re all sweaty and dirty.”
“Nonsense!” I exclaimed. “Give me a hug!” Before she could react, I lunged forward and wrapped my big hairy, sweaty arms around her short, chubby body and squeezed her into me, making sure to smash her face into my wet, dirty bosom.
“Thanks for…everything,” I said. It might have sounded flippant, but in reality, deep down, I am grateful for Dr. Mary Jane. Yes, we didn’t always get along and she was a bully and she was loud and she forbade me to bring bacon in the house, but my two years in her apartment was a huge learning experience for me. I learned resourcefulness and tolerance. I learned to choose my battles and I learned the importance of standing up for myself. I wouldn’t want to necessarily do it again, but I also wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Well, except maybe for a date with Usher.
I thought I would feel sentimental in some way, leaving that apartment for the last time, but I didn’t even give my empty room one last dramatic look. I just turned heel and took off, eager to get to my new apartment where I could play loud music, let boys spend the night and fill the fridge with pork products.
Début de l'événement
19.12.2022
Fin de l'événement
19.12.2022