How to say I like you

Words can be fun. This proves especially true when trying to describe romantic feelings. Personally I like to blush and stammer when discussing feelings. I imagine it’s endearing in a Zooey Deschanel in New Girl kind of way. The reality probably isn’t that smooth, but I’ll embrace denial.  Feelings are doomed to be awkward no matter what. Think of middle school where I asked if boys “likeliked” me or just “liked” me  which was entirely different and temporarily heart breaking. I haven’t gotten much better at expressing liking since middle school.  However, I have a new tool that I was lacking in middle school, the internet. Sometimes it helps me express feelings. For example this:


I like cake and people, but in different ways.

This would work really well, except what does it really mean. I like you in a way that feeds my addictive habit, but I probably also hate you for enabling my poor life choices. That doesn’t seem like the ideal feeling. I enjoy the idea of comparing emotions to other things I like. This is doable. Here’s some “I like you like” situations that I’ve had in my life.

I like you like I like cake. This is much better than I like you like a fat person likes cake because cake and I have a pretty good relationship. I thoroughly enjoy cake. At least every once in awhile. It’s not really a relationship form of like. I don’t want cake every meal. That’d probably result in my being a fat person and completely change this simile.

I like you like I like nap time. This person is nice. Comforting and a generally good part of my day. Maybe not the part I tell stories about, but a part I enjoy. It’s a nice liking, but not a very sexy liking. Potentially a friend liking.

I like you like I like a really great outfit. This is a shallow liking. Generally summarizes feelings towards those people who are attractive but have very little else working in their favor. It’s fun to take this person out on the town, but when alone with them it’s that feeling of being all dressed up with nowhere to go.

I like you like I like a project. A really awful way to feel about someone. It’s that weird urge to fix people and make them better. As if I have any right to decide what constitutes better. I’m not proud of having felt this way. Dating people to change them is never a good idea. Some people do this consistently, driven by some constant need to help people who don’t want or need help.

I like you like I like a good book. Personally, this embodies my favorite type of liking. It piques curiosity and has many different feelings involved. Books fit many genres and move from touching to steamy with the flip of a page. I want to read all of the pages of this connection, then go back and read them again. Every experience is a word I want to soak in and ponder at my own leisure. The only downside of this liking is that I love to speed through books to find out what happens. Not exactly the best idea with people.

I love you like a love song. Just kidding, that’s Selena Gomez’s thing. Also the like word is scary enough and this post isn’t ready to go into love territory. I do however fully support listening to Selena Gomez’s song.

Some people think quoting Shakespeare is romantic, but I’m all about comparing my emotions for people towards my emotions for inanimate objects. I’m sure it’s quite healthy. I like you like I like people who read my blog. It’s a healthy and enjoyable kind of liking. I promise! What kind of likes have you experienced?

Best Wishes,



People I’m not giving my new number

I recently went through a difficult break up with my phone. It was an abusive relationship. Eventually my phone couldn’t take my abuse anymore and died. Don’t worry, I’m seeking counseling. I’m in a new relationship now. My new phone and I love each other very much. Recently we’ve had to have a tough discussion about past baggage. I have a lot of old numbers in my old phone and I don’t really want to bring all of that with me to my new, crack free relationship.

It was time to delete people. I’m too lazy to count but it takes over twenty scrolls to go through my contact list. That’s a lot of contacts. Silly outgoing personality. It was hard deciding who to deny my new number. I’m sure everyone in my contacts list wants to keep in touch with me. Alas, sometimes the past needs to say in the past. So, here’s who I deleted:

People whose whole name I don’t know

Examples of this include “number on a light house” and “Jake hot guy from Taco Bell line”. If I don’t know you’re whole name, we probably don’t need to exchange texts and certainly not phone calls. It’s hard to give up on Jake, but I think we both need to move on. The only time random numbers do come in handy is prank calls. I’m too old for that anyways (okay, maybe not, but I switched phone plans and have limited monthly minutes).

People who only text me after midnight

I have friends and I like sleep. If you text me after midnight (and especially if you’re clearly intoxicated) I don’t want to talk/hang out/swap spit with you. I swear some people only exist between midnight and six a.m. I’m just not that extreme of a partier. Maybe I have an unhealthy relationship with sleep. I can cope with that, at least sleep doesn’t kick me out in the morning.

People who I met at any camp/confrence/etc

I’ve participated in a lot of camps, conferences, and other things where I meet tons of awesome people who I rarely ever talk to again. Once I leave that event I never call these people again. The most common exception occurs when I’m meeting people I actually live near, but that’s not how it usually goes. These people are awesome, fabulous, lovely, and way too far away for the effort of communicating. Sorry.

People who have DNT after their name

I write DNT, my own personal abbreviation for do not text, after the names of people I shouldn’t text. This mostly applies to boys that I text after too much fun or a sad romantic comedy. Numerous reasons exist for the untextable nature of the relationship. Some are jerks and when I’m sane and not afraid of being forever alone I realize I should never talk to that person again. Others like me more than I like them and I know it’s a line I shouldn’t cross. Sometimes it’s even a friend who seems attractive when I’m lonely, but when hormones are in balance and logic returns I realize he’s just bro material. Then a “friends” talk becomes necessary. So not worth the pain! Delete these numbers. Delete them now (yes, even the good kissers)!

People who only mass text

If the only texts I receive from someone say “Hey, what’s everybody doing tonight” I’m not giving that person my new number. I’m neither a mom or a secretary and will not make plans for other people. An occasional what’s up text between friends is fine. It’s those people who only text at the last minute on prime fun nights (Friday, Saturday and some Thursdays) that annoy me. Get on Facebook and Twitter and stalk everyone like a normal human being. At least put some effort into it.

People I wish I had never given my number to in the first place

This one was a little mean and probably the largest category. Getting a new number is like a fabulous time machine. All of those dumb people I gave my number to only to learn they’re super boring or like sports. Gone. It never happened. They cannot contact me via phone! I can even lie about it if I ever see them again. Oops, got a new number. If we were really friends you would’ve seen my facebook status about my broken phone and asked for my new digits. I’ve eliminated, guilt free, an annoying person from my life. As long as they don’t read my blog, they’ll never know.

The results:

I feel a lot better after my spring cleaning of phone contacts. If I really need to, I can contact most of the people I deleted via Facebook, but now when I get a text message, it’s always from someone I actually like. Quality over quantity. I’m not advising smashing your phone to pieces and getting a new number, but try deleting some contacts you never use. It feels surprisingly good.

Call me, maybe?


P.S. Check out my damaged phone. It was dropped, stepped on, and got a little wet. Good thing I have a warranty on my new phone.

P.S.S. An apology to my mother for always breaking things…

My broken phone


Understand me…please!

          The other day I was suffering from young adult angst because other people couldn’t read my mind. I know I should use my big kid words and express myself, but if you truly care about me you should understand my every whim! Right? That’s not needy or insane. Is it needy and insane? Why aren’t you sensing my need for self-validation?

            I’m really not that needy, I promise. Yet, society often perpetuates this myth that the people who care about us should always know how we’re feeling. It’s all about connection. We just skip the parts about how to accomplish this connection. I think the best way would be telepathy. If other people could read my mind life would be so much easier. No more walking behind slow people because they’d hear the many ways in which I’m planning their death in my head and start walking faster. Just kidding…

            Mind reading would work like this. Why yes, I put a period at the end of that text message to convey my inner angst that you didn’t notice how great my hair looks today. Also, my hair looks effing great today. Notice it! Then my exceptional good hair day would be noticed and complemented which would result in inner happiness and a state of Zen. Plus dentists and wait staff would stop talking to me when my mouth is full. No I didn’t spend three minutes trying to think of a term for waiters and waitresses that was gender neutral. Stop reading my mind. Stop it!

            I don’t really want you to read my mind. My mind is a crazy place. Here’s an example. I know that you’re telling me really important personal information but I can’t stop thinking about cucumbers. I’m hungry and I love cucumbers. Plus my new shampoo smells like cucumbers. Then I have to think about sex because cucumbers and showers are kind of sexy. Now I’m thinking about alien sex and do aliens have green penises because that would be a lot like a cucumber. Aliens aren’t very sexy. Except for Dr. Who. He’s sexy, I would definitely sleep with him. I should go watch some Dr. Who. See the craziness? Good thing no one reads my mind.

            I take it back. Mind reading would suck. People should start telling people how they feel. It’d eliminate a lot of misunderstanding. I’m tired of people being mad at me for stuff I don’t even know upsets them. I’ll stop expecting other people to read my mind if other people stop expecting me to read theirs. Or we can all wear mood rings. Those are still cool right?

Best of luck,