When it comes to Facebook, you would be lying if you said you never found yourself looking at the pictures your winter vacation hookup (from 2001) just posted… or at the girl that annoyingly keeps writing on your boyfriend’s wall (and at all of her friends). I know, I know, you just randomly, somehow, stumbled upon them; you really, truly, only logged on to check your messages…3 hours ago. And now you are searching for that cute guy you met last night whose last name you don’t know (why did his name have to be Aaron?!).

Let’s face it; we’ve all stooped a little bit lower than we like to admit (logging on to a friend’s account to look at someone not in your network). Posted something for the sake of ONE person seeing it (an ex boyfriend perhaps? This picture totally screams “I am SOO over you”), or for the whole Facebook world to see (Look! I met Vince Vaughn! We sat at his table! This totally validates that I am cool. Take that all you who shoved me in a locker in high school!).

Every now and again, we all do a bit of random stalking or, as I chose to call it, investigative journalism. (The dictionary of my life says an email to my friends reporting my findings completely counts as journalism… “He’s single! Scooore!”) But with all this quasi-stalking that we do, we never really think that we are that important or fascinating enough that total randoms would waste their time looking at our photos from Halloween 2006.

That is, until it happens to you… and you find out.

And then, Facebook becomes really creepy. Read More »

Do you want to date Peter Pan? I don’t want to date Peter Pan. This could be partly due to the fact that I’m most familiar with the Mary Martin version of the movie, but still. What girl wants to be with a guy who would rather be in Neverland?

Of course, Peter Pans can be fun because they usually act like kids. They like to go out and play and shun anything to do with responsibility and growing up. They can make you feel young too. But isn’t there a point where we’re supposed to grow up? Can’t growing up be fun?

I for one enjoy growing up. And there was nothing more annoying than my ex who was constantly depressed about getting older. When it came to anything involving responsibility, he cringed and said, “why couldn’t I have just stayed in high school forever? Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

Um, no. Read More »

Here, take this quiz:

Independence Day should NOT mean independence from:
(a) your good sense
(b) your panties
(c) reality
(d) all of the above

Okay, obviously the answer is (a). And if you believe that, skip the rest of this article.

But seriously, Independence Day marks our freedom as an independent United States of America, and for some reason, this has morphed into a gigantular party day.

Which, look, is fine by me. I love partying.

However, may I suggest, for your own sake, that you stop a tequila shot short of blacking out? Here are the top reasons why:

(7) Missing the festivities
I mean, if you can’t remember it, how the flip can you enjoy it? That totally sucks! Especially when you find out you managed to do #6.

(6) Ruining your chances with a hottie
Yes, the odds for this increase dramatically if you are blacked out. During such a state sometime in my sophomore year of college, I allegedly once asked a potential hook-up if he was gay. Um, yeah. That didn’t work out in my favor. Read More »

I told my Ex we broke up because he was short.

Really, we broke up because he was short and kind of looked like a giant mole that stood upright

Exactly three months ago, I posted my first post here on CollegeCandy explaining to all of you that a guy I was dating, who told me I was his ’soul mate’, would not sleep with me. We all came to various conclusions as to why he’d behave like this. I let it go. And now I’m back to fill you in on what has happened since I let it go.

He and I kept in loose contact after deciding to end things. Very loose.

Then, I got a text from him about 3 weeks ago, out of nowhere. He was all torn up inside because he had (drunkenly, of course) deduced that I now hated him. And it made him sad. He sorta fell apart in the series of texts that followed. I imagined him lying on his bathroom floor in the fetal position. Finally, still considering him a friend, I invited him to call me if he wanted to talk. And so he did. He called me and we talked for over an hour about how his life has been crumbling before his own eyes.

He still hadn’t had sex, apparently, with anyone. Read More »

Three nights ago, as I’m spooning in bed with my ex-boyfriend/current fling (the lines are a little blurred), he, out of the blue, drops a line that no ex-girlfriend ever wants to hear spoken about herself: he called me crazy.

I was speechless. Everything had being going rather well all night: I looked super-hot, we were flirting like mad and we had just engaged in a no-fuss, delicious two-hour romp on his blow-up mattress, resulting in the big “O” for both parties.

And then he had to go and ruin our post-coital snuggle session with the dreaded “C” word.

Now, let me set the record straight. This is definitely not the first time a male in my life has called me crazy. Everyone from my dad and brother to my high school gym teacher has felt the need to express their opinion about my level of sanity.

I can’t deny that maybe, they were right to drop the C-bomb. Let’s just say that high school was rough for me. I was involved in a serious relationship, which led me to act like a serious fool. I yelled really loud, pushed really hard and generally caused extreme amounts of unnecessary stress for everyone involved in my life. But hey, I was sixteen, riding high off the fumes of sweet adolescent hormones, and I didn’t think – I just DID.

Of course, douchebag ex-boyfriend heard all the juicy details of my teenage drama during our first year of dating. I mean, if I had to endure all the pain and horror – it was only fair that I pass it onto him, right? (Note: I realize now this was a huge mistake and that some skeletons really are better kept in the closet – forever.) So, after I got upset about a girl attempting to kiss him in front of me after a little too much jungle juice, he decided it was time to break out the one insult he knew would cut straight to the heart. Read More »

We all know we’re not supposed to mention our ex-boyfriends when we’re on a first date with a new hottie. Common sense, right? An article on The Frisky puts ex-boyfriend as the #1 word not to mention as a first date. But what about the other top 4 words you’re not supposed to mention? Maybe not so obvious. Or maybe completely and sickeningly obvious. Do they really think we’re that dumb?

Coming in at #4 ion the list of words not to say on a first day is rash. You know, that skin condition you have that may have been caused by the sun, but might also have been caused by another’s bodily fluids (the forbidden ex-boyfriend, perhaps?). Oh, and it may or may not be contagious. Every guy’s dream come true! Come on, girls. If you’re talking about your rashes on a first date, I’m going to take a wager and guess that you’ve never had a boyfriend. Unless he’s the constantly sick, allergic to everything type. Read More »

I fancy myself quite a connoisseur of romance. I am a girl who has seen nearly every romantic comedy in existence, whose reading materials of choice consist of happily ever after type articles and books, and who is able to read a romantic undertone into nearly every song she hears. I suppose to say I am a romance connoisseur is an understatement; I am a love-junkie.

It can, and has been argued that the fine line between the real-life reality and expectation of romance, and the “fiction” type I hold on to seems to be a line I have blurred—possibly to an unrecognizable point. To put it simply, I think I might have a problem.

My name is Rory and I am addicted to romance. I am addicted to the idea of romance—the indestructible, all consuming passion for another person. I have fallen in love with every romantic gesture, declaration, and scene from every romantic comedy, I have swooned at every love song written, and I have melted with every romantic note or Hallmark card I’ve seen. I have used romantic comedies, sitcom relationships, happily ever after ending stories and love songs to develop my idea of love that is, well, completely and utterly unrealistic. Read More »