I only know three things about latest pop sensation Dua Lipa. One is that she’s freaking gorgeous in a way that makes me question whether I want to be her or on her. Two is that she should definitely try to get a lip gloss deal with Sephora or something with a name like that. And three, she has got to be a total badass who gives really solid advice. I mean, you’ve heard “New Rules.” You’ve been strong enough to not contact your ex, right? All because of Mother Dua. Continue Reading…
If there are two things you need to know about me, they are 1) I’m very close with my mother and 2) I’m an avid user of the dating app Bumble. With this in mind, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the second a Bumble prospect crumbles, my mom is there to comfort me and to whoop his ass. Continue Reading…
Image via Sarah Clapp.
If you’ve been keeping tabs on my Rib articles this semester, you’ll know I’m slowly spiraling into an endless void of anxiety and existentialism as the reality of graduation looms ever closer. My senioritis hasn’t quite kicked in yet, so the whole thing’s been pretty terrifying so far. One thing I guess I have to look forward to as a perpetually single lady is Senior Scramble. Although there is that one minor problem which is…I don’t really want to do Senior Scramble the way we know it as, as a last ditch hook up attempt.
I want to propose an alternative option of Senior Scramble for people, like myself, that are still wrapped up in that big blanket of monogamy and emotions and insecurities. I know it’s not just me that wants this! I know there are people out there that aren’t personally super jazzed about casual hooking up! Or so my therapist tells me!
It’s October. My room is getting cold, everybody seems to have someone to impose a couples costume onto, and I’m typing questions into Google such as: “How do I get a boy to like me?”
One particular evening last week, when I should have been reading about death rates of children on the frontier, I found myself down a rabbit hole of middle school dating forums. While I first read these articles in middle school, I am hoping they can still apply to my life as a twenty-year-old, living her sexy single life in the great city of Providence, Rhode Island.
This is my third year at Brown. It’s also my third year at Brown without a significant other. I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me. Could it be that I’m too short, and people just look right over my head? Possibly. Could it be that every time I put on makeup, it’s a big guessing game? Maybe. Most likely, it’s that I don’t have a bubbly personality like most one-dimensional women characters in television and film. So, to develop a bubbly personality, I started eating Lush bath bombs.
It was early September. I was caught between a rock and a hard place—the rock being a mom loudly debating the redeeming qualities of two different brands of air freshener, the hard place being the check-out line of the Bed Bath & Beyond in Providence Place Mall, the relief being the impulse purchasing of a $25 umbrella.
I say impulse buy, but I had actually yearned for this umbrella for quite a while. It was made of clear, durable plastic domed over a mushroom shaped frame, and I had heard them referred to as “bubble” umbrellas. I found it to be whimsical yet practical (which is a descriptor I sort of mold my entire being around). It was impulsive in the sense that I hadn’t been planning to stumble upon something I had hoped for in such a random place. I didn’t expect to buy in so cavalierly to something that I had exalted in my mind. Continue Reading…
Well here I am, single again. No it’s cool, I’m okay, unfurrow your brows. Fortunately for all of us, I’m slowly but surely moving out of the “crying in line at the bank” phase and progressing into the “tequila will never leave me” part of the grieving process. Oh, and I’ve made myself a Tinder account. Admit it ladies, there’s honestly nothing more gruesomely satisfying than rating a man based on four low-qual photos of him at his senior prom and two lines of poorly-constructed self-reflection. Especially when one certain member of his species has Maced your heart in the face. Or perhaps you’re not in some sort of emotional spiral at all, you are a self-respecting, responsible young lady out here looking for love on a handheld device. More power to you. Future spinsters and social goddesses alike, I have compiled for us all a quick and easy guide to navigating the fuckboy hellscape that is Tinder. Enjoy. Continue Reading…
I am a young, empowered, millennial woman, who no longer has the time to wait around. It’s 2017, so why shouldn’t I make the first move when it comes the opposite sex? I’m trying to find myself a man! Or at least a consistent hook up. Or a one-time hook up. Or honestly just some male attention.
Even dating apps are encouraging women to take this first step. Take Bumble, for instance. These are changing times and I’m just flowing with them! I mean seriously, what’s the worst that could happen– they say no? I’ll just shrug it off and move on to my next potential man.
I’ve managed to send some texts on these apps, even suggesting possible hang out situations that could turn romantic. What I have failed to factor into the equation upon sending these messages are both my sensitivity levels and my emotional capacity.
I learned that the worst that can happen is not that these men say no, but that they just don’t respond at all. When this happens, I feel horrible – unwanted and not sexy. And I love feeling sexy! But for some reason, each time I make the first move, “the worst” always happens and it keeps happening.
Why would this be the case? I’m cute. I’m fun. Right… right? But these silent rejections have forced me to make some speculations as to why they don’t want to give Allie G a chance!
For some that I’ve reached out to, I’ve had previous romantic-ish encounters with him. Maybe he fears that if we do meet up again, he’ll realize he’s in love with me, but he’s just not ready for that type of commitment right now. And, I get it. I’m a lot, but I’m worth it. So if you’re not ready for the challenge, it’s understandable. Your non-response to my text hurts, but I understand your silence.
Or maybe this match has his heart set on someone else. And uh, first off, who is this chick that I have to compete with? Second, what does she have that I don’t?! I am then forced to reconsider these initial reactions, and realize that I can’t keep him from his true love. He must be ignoring me just because he can’t tempt fate. Your non-response stings… a lot, but I understand your heart.
These non-responsive and non-reciprocated feelings have nothing to do with me, right? Guys would love to date me! My mom tells me that I’m perfect, even though she thinks I might have a slight anger management problem.
Still, I do feel slightly defeated. My inner feminist wants to say “fuck those boys, there is someone out there for you. Keep putting yourself out there!” But my ego is screaming, “Allie, stop now! You’re just going to get more hurt and I literally don’t know how you’re going to take it. Save yourself.”
Making the first move seems great in theory, but in retrospect, it just reminds me that boys prioritize their self-interest. In doing so, they fail to get to really know me. They may not want a relationship with me right now or they may like someone else, but they should at least respond to my texts and tell me the truth. I don’t need some bullshit answer. And I don’t need to be ghosted. We’re all adults here. As I said, I am an empowered female who can handle the truth! And if they don’t have the decency to respond, I deserve better. Both my inner feminist and ego can agree with that.
Dear Fellow Fan of Smucker’s Uncrustables Sandwiches,
No one ever said having this whimsical of a snack preference in college would be easy. Continue Reading…