Boys. WTF are they about, anyway?!

I met a guy through a friend.. it was one of those things when your best girlfriend introduces you to her best guy friend and him and you are supposed to have this crazy connection because you both love the same girl dearly? We talked and he already knew my boyfriend and such so we had plenty of people in common.

So days passed and I friended him on Facebook (of course) and we started chatting on one anothers’ walls and it was nothing big- just a ‘great meeting you finally’ kind of thing. I TOTALLY felt like the kid wanted my time and panties after this wall fondling turned into a full blown text message explosion (he had my number from a party I threw and invited him to via Facebook)… but then I thought about it and STILL thought it was fine because I was like “cool I have a new friend… that has no life because he texts me all the time?”… He was nice so I felt weird thinking he was oddly over-excited to talk to me every minute.

Then I finally yanked his romance situation out of him and he’s all like “I have a girlfriend…but I don’t love her…”…WTF is that?? I literally sat in my bed holding my phone over my face thinking, “is this supposed to mean it’s okay to flirt with each other? Oh okay she doesn’t matter because there is no LOVE?” THEN he goes “yeah I’ve been with her for a year or so…and I break up with her every couple of months……..” Since when did relationships that last over A YEAR not “count” because love isn’t proclaimed? I thought the journey to love was the “falling in love” stage.. not the “I’m off the hook until we utter those words” type of deal.

It’s been a few weeks and we still talk and hang out as friends (my intentions all along) but that factor of his mental makeup is still bothering me for some reason…It made me wonder about all of the guys I had dated and didn’t fall in love with… were they doing this on the side?! It’s nauseating to think about.

~G.I.
Philadelphia, PA

I miss Northern girls in large coats.

I miss northern girls in large coats. I miss them walking through the streets of center city during the winter, when it’s 10 degrees and without the wind and for the first time you kind of realize how Doestoevsky became so mentally unstable. I miss northern girls who play lacrosse, the worst sport in the world and don’t mind majoring in economics, political science or journalism.

I live in the south now. This, more than anything, is the reason for the previous paragraph. It’s not like I particularly cared about northern girls; my level of women-caring was pretty much equal to Axl’s desire to release a new album between 1993 and 2008. Eventually, it would happen. And then I moved to the South (and I guess Axl finally released the [unsurprisingly] underwhelming ‘Chinese Democracy’). And I realized that even though I’ve never cared about girls one way or the other (it’s not that I’m gay, rather that I think of girls kind of like I think of ‘The Yeah Yeah Yeah’s’; an inevitable truth one has to encounter but doesn’t have to care about), I miss ones from above the Mason-Dixon Line.

Now I know what you’re saying. But there are plenty of girls down there from above the Mason-Dixon. In fact, I’m pretty sure 1/4 of New Orleans is white girls from the north who never decided to go back home after they graduated from Tulane. Well yes, that’s true. But they don’t count. Northern girls like money. They want to be successful. They dream of one day having a husband whose balls they own and they say ‘OMG’, ‘Fabulous’ and everything else that the girls from DABA say absolutley unapologetically. And, for the record, it’s hot as shit.

But the Northern girls down here?? They all majored in “Liberal Arts”, which is a total fraud, since any self-respecting journalism, econ or poly sci major has read 3/4 of the assigned books, has understood them better and probably hated half the ones they were supposed to “love”. They’re all content to do TFA, which is the ultimate joke of a post-collegiate persuit. They debate things like, whether or not they are being good people, they dance around a lot and they smoke Camel Lights when they’re out at the bar. Which would be great, except well, they’re not Northern girls. They laugh. A lot. About anything. I don’t hate laughter or dancing. But when someone laughs- especially if it’s a female- it better be at a joke I made and if someone dances I better be encouraged to stuff a dollar bill down her G-String.

See, the girls down here are pretty much the girls every great girl in America’s foundation laughs at; the girls who every guy persues when he “wants to find himself” but realizes that ultimately, he’s a moron. If they weren’t idiots who didn’t know who Phish were, I’d swear half this city’s population wanted to take the entire summer off, find themselves and follow Phish on their road trip.

So please, Philly girls, I’m pleading with you. Come down here. Bring your confidence. Bring your swagger. Bring your desire to be my boss and then use your position to crush me. There are guys down here who worship what you are- smart, funny, sexy career-women who can drink Bourbon and talk about Hunter Thompson while causally wearing heels and a cocktail dress. Or maybe it’s just me, the ultimate Yankee in the heart of the South. I miss ya’ll.

~ESOH
New Orleans, Louisiana

An email from Sammy D at 7:01 AM this morning

Just wanted to say again HOW EXCITED I AM FOR OUR ROMANTIC WEEKEND!

I really miss you and can’t wait to see your face, I definitely think that when I’m in love with a boy, it will feel like this.

xo

—She always knows how to make a girl feel good. Can’t wait to thrift with you!