Most college students know just as much about intimacy as I do about football: we know that there is ballplay, grunting, scoring, and high probability that you will accidently grab someone’s ass.
This is about it.
And yet we continue to wander around with our heads up our collective assholes, clinging to the ridiculous notion that we might fall in love.
I did once, actually. It was great until he took an existential nosedive into a bottle of Captain Morgan. He’s now irrelevant in my life.
But now, after another failed relationship, I’ve come to accept two facts.
1. We’re not supposed to “date” in college.
2. Even knowing full well how, pardon me, FUCKING ASININE 20-something dudes are, we dumb shit ladies continue to hope and plead and doodle your name everywhere and name our future children and mentally paint our future kitchen. (Yellow, always, always yellow.)
And when it ends, it feels like the apocalypse…
So I’d like to present what I’m calling the College Break-Up Acceptance Spectrum* to awaken you all to how absolutely idiotic we are.
I hope that it will prevent another one of my XX(x – you sexy fucker, you) chromosomed constituents from falling into the self-destructive female break-up cycle.
Remember that you are a hot piece of ass with a brain and a good heart and ALSO, whatever asshole you just dumped isn’t thinking about you at all, most likely, because his emotional memory is probably as short as his penis.