Why I’m Waiting To Say ‘I Love You’
I’ve always known I’d want to say I love you, maybe since the day I saw you from across a crowded room and asked someone, “Who is he?”
I’ve always known I’d want to say I love you, maybe since the day I saw you from across a crowded room and asked someone, “Who is he?”
Like really though… how do you make it not weird but read totally interested at the same time? You settle on the side hug thing where your neck kind of cranes into their chest and you rub-pat their stomach, but then you’re both walking to your destination and your hand that is so lonely and cold and definitely unsuspecting feels another hand creep on into it.
I am a girl who loves her football because of many reasons (none being the tight uniforms). To name a few,…
Here are a few suggestions to promote honesty and see if it’s worth going on a second date.
Along your routine and endless commutes you are bound to encounter a few driver types that know just how to rub dirt into all of your vehicular wounds. They are unavoidable; not even Waze knows how to alert you.
What should be a simple ride from Point A to Point B can quickly turn into the worst part of your day because people suck.
It’s a soothing reminder that no matter my age, I can still manage to revert so quickly to the points in life that make me FEEL. That I’m not as jaded as I so often assume.
Or rather should I say, what not to do?
For those of you who do know what I’m referring to, you know what comes next. Well I love my Skechers, but that’s because you don’t have a Prada backpack.
Considering a tween brain is like a succubus to the idiotic, this strategy seems to be working quite nicely for most young women today (see men’s willingness to put up with anything for strange).