A Lesson to be Learned

Hello my beautiful readers. Just another post from yours truly. I mean, I guess I've milked the whole "you don't need a boyfriend" bit dry, but whatever. I say what's on my mind. So read it. Learn from it. And do it. 

Being a sophomore in college has allowed me time to get my feel of this whole “life” thing. I’ve learned a couple of things that I find actually pretty valuable (other than wearing your schools’ lanyard is not considered an acceptable fashion statement). I have plenty of experiences that made me cry, made me laugh, and ultimately made me a better person. However, there’s one thing that has stood out to me as the best advice of all:

Don’t go out planning on finding the love of your life. It’s not going to happen.

Okay, I get it. I’ve had a lot of posts about love and boys and stupid stuff like that. But trust me, this is actually good advice (and bearable to read). I’m getting tired of hearing naïve girls complaining they don’t have a boyfriend or they haven’t met that “special someone” at the frat house party.

Um, well, first of all, finding your next boyfriend at the frat house that’s notorious for hooking up with multiple girls in one night (um, gross?) is definitely not a good idea. Do you really expect to find a guy—in a frat—that would be willing to throw away the freedom he has every Friday and Saturday (and probably the rest of the week), just so he could have a desperate girlfriend? Sorry hun, but the chances aren’t looking too hot for you.

Secondly, going out with the intentions of finding someone to fill that boyfriend “void” is definitely not the way to go. You’re going out with your best friends, having the time of your life, and you’re really worried about finding Mr. Right? What do you think will happen? He’ll fill up your cup at the keg, with minimum spillage, and then bippity-boppity-boop: he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend? I’m not sure if it works that way.

I mean, it’s totally cool to be optimistic about finding your hubby at a sketchy dark party with beer spilled in your hair. I guess it’s possible it could happen. But would you really want to first meet your guy while you’re both slightly intoxicated, not 100% sure what the other one looks like, and barely hearing each other over the blaring dubstep? It certainly sounds romantic (note the sarcasm).

I don’t mean to sound so negative about this. If this is rant-y, I apologize. I’m just trying to get my point across: girls need to stop planning out when they’re going to meet their next boyfriend. Chances are, they’ll end up disappointed with the lack of boy they end up with at the end of the night, or worse—the boy they do end up with isn’t all that great.

I’ll end with this. To the girls whom this post applies to: stop expecting so much out of your Friday nights. Appreciate the pong game you just won or the hilarious photo shoot you had with the drunk-bus driver. But really appreciate the people beside you for all of this—your friends. They’ve been at your side longer than any boy has, and they will be there for you when that boy isn’t.

Just remember: eventually everything that is meant to happen will fall into place—whether that happens tomorrow, next week, or next year. Until then, enjoy the nights you have with your friends. Laugh at the mistakes you make and don’t dwell on the disappointment.

But most importantly, know everything happens for a reason.

I'm Single and Ready to Mingle

Happy Shouldn't-Be-A-Holiday Day. Wait, did that even make sense? You know what I meant. We're all bitter about being alone on this February 14th (and if you're not, well, that's just great). But there could be better things to this day than just a boyfriend who gives sappy cards and "okay" chocolate. Is this true? Yep, you better believe it. 

So it’s Valentine’s Day. And you’re most likely single (and bitter about it). You keep seeing all of the “lucky” girls on Facebook and Twitter showing off their bouquet of cliché roses that their boyfriends gave them. Meanwhile, all you have to show for it is a paper heart someone was giving out on the quad and a stomachache from the massive amounts of pity chocolate you’ve consumed.  

Instead of being a Debbie Downer about this “totally stupid holiday,” try to look at it in a different way. Okay, maybe you don’t have a stud of a boyfriend to buy you things you wouldn’t normally want (let’s be real here, that teddy bear that says “I love you” will be hidden under your bed in a matter of days) or have a date to go out with to a decent restaurant. But you do have a lot of other things.

Like your other single and mopey friends (just kidding about the mopey part. Well, kind of). Do you realize how much fun they are compared to a boyfriend? Around them, sweatpants are encouraged and stuffing your face with three servings of dinner is welcomed. Who cares if no one sent you flowers or if you don’t have a boyfriend to mention in your status about how much you love—you have the friends to have a 90s dance party with while wearing sweatpants (oh, did I already mention the sweatpants thing? Well, it’s that important).

I will admit I was a little bitter waking up this morning without being able to say I had a valentine. But what I was fortunate enough to get was flowers from my dad, and that’s just as good—if not better. I saw that boyfriends aren’t the only ones who could show their love to you on this bad excuse of a holiday: family and friends could too.

Instead of complaining about being oh-so alone and pathetic on this February 14^th, try to look on the bright side— you won’t have to worry about sneakily hiding that ridiculously cheesy teddy bear or watering the roses every day. Enjoy this day with your friends and realize that you guys are the lucky ones without boyfriends (single and ready to mingle, anyone?)—no one will judge you for eating a third helping of dinner like they would at that fancy restaurant, and you won’t be smothered with cliché over-the-top, mushy-gushy actions that your hypothetical boyfriend would feel obligated to do.

Oh, and sweatpants. You can’t forget the sweatpants.