5 Reasons Why Having a Lesbian Best Friend Totally Rocks

As featured on PuckerMob.

Sisters before misters. Chicks before dicks. Uteruses before duderouses. You’ve heard them all: the pro-girl, anti-guy, yay-for-my-best-girlfriend chants. And as a female, you know it’s true. Those girls will always have your back when the supposed boy of your dreams cheats on you with the soon-to-be-prom-queen or when the ‘man’ you thought you were moving in with turns out to be a bigger pig then your eighty pound golden retriever post party in the muddy backyard.

Having a best girlfriend is essential for survival as a woman. You need someone you can get ready and go to Dollar Beer Night with. You need a shoulder to cry on post walk-of-shame or after bombing that kinesiology test you should have actually studied for. You need someone you can trust talking about everything from pimples and periods, to first dates and family feuds. And let’s be real here, a guy just isn’t going to make the cut. That’s what girlfriends were made for! The true soul mates. But what most girls don’t get, is that having a lesbian best friend is actually one of the best things that could ever happen to you.

# 1: First of all, a lesbian best friend won’t bullshit you when you look like absolute crap.

How many times have you stepped out of a mall dressing room wearing what you thought was the cutest cocktail dress and been reassured by your BFF: ‘Oh my gawddd you look hot!’ only to try it on later and realize that it actually squeezes your booty a little too much and shows off those gloriously stubborn love handles. Yep, me too.

Perks of having a lesbian best friend? None of that You look sooo adorable! Lol just kidding you look awful but I won’t tell you because I want to look better than you so I’ll let you wear that hideous lime green scarf with that burnt orange sweater and then all the guys will talk to me instead.

Nope. Your lesbian best friend will shoot you straight:

“Don’t wear that. It makes you look fat.”

“You should go with the blue jeans instead of those ratty sweats.”

“The other shirt looked better on you.”

Sure, you might get a little hit to the ego every once in a while, but it’s better to have a few dressing room tears then wear something that looks God awful and risk ruining encounters with your potential future husband.

#2: She’ll be the best personal advisor for your sex life…and probably your entire life in general.

First of all, she won’t judge you on your sexcapades. She doesn’t get with guys, so she’s not going to care about your weird man-hand fetish or how mustaches totally turn you on.

You can be totally frank with her—the good, bad, and the downright awkward, and she still won’t think you’re weird. Plus, since she’ll know every detail of your sex life anyways, she can come in clutch when your boy’s at a loss of how to get you in the mood. And if that isn’t enough, she’s the resident expert on girls, so she can even teach him a thing or two.

#3: Unsolicited, Genuine Compliments

Who doesn’t love a compliment? But wait. Flashback to last summer, you and your straight-as-a-pin best friend soaking up the sun at her backyard pool, coconut-smelling tanning oil glistening on your bronze tummies. She looks over at you, and tilts her sunglasses forward on her nose. “Wow, you look super skinny,” she says, and because you know she’s fishing for a compliment back, you smile and say, “Thanks, babe! So do you.” And then you both lay back and close your eyes in fake contentment.

With your lezzy BFF, it’s different. The compliments are genuine. She’s not looking for nice words back, she’s simply saying how she feels. And because she’s actually attracted to your sex, you know she means what she says when you’re frantically raiding your closet before your steak dinner date, every top you own tossed on your bed—that your hair is actually cute in a side ponytail, and those heels really do make your calf muscles look bad a$$. A built-in personal wardrobe consultant and mood-picker-upper.

#4: She won’t steal your boyfriend

Yep, there it is. The terribly sad truth about your straight girlfriends. But now you don’t have to worry about any of that sketchy crap!  You can feel totally comfortable inviting your bestie to third wheel on a movie date without fear of her snuggling up on his shoulder during the scary parts. And you know she won’t be checking out his beach bod during your day at the water park.

She has your boy toy’s number? Nothing to worry about. They’re going to hang without you there? Don’t sweat it. They’ll probably spend the day talking sports or playing COD. And who better to take him shopping for gifts for you? She knows you better than anyone else and can give him some quality advice without lusting over him the entire time.

And #5: She’ll support your bicurious tendencies

Lezz be honest here. We’ve all had those moments when the tequila makes our eyes water and suddenly we’re holding our bestie’s face in our hands and announcing to the entire dinner table of friends and family members how much we love our her and how we should most definitely, without a doubt, be the maid of honor in her future wedding.

Then there’s the double-dog-dares: ‘You won’t kiss a girllllll!’ The tipsy best friend pecks in the middle of the jungle-themed college party. The Katy Perry ‘I Kissed a Girl’ song creeping in the back of our minds.

Let’s face it. We’ve all had our lesbian moments: Hmm…what would it actually be like to kiss her? Wow, she’s totally hot in that miniskirt. If I were I guy I would totally date her.

There’s not a better support system for the bicurious shenanigans than your lesbian bestie. She won’t judge your half-drunk girl-on-girl makeouts at the frat house. She won’t raise her eyebrows when you lust over the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show models. She loves and supports you no matter what. Just like you do for her.

And hey, if you ever decide to switch teams, well, you do have a perfect option right there.

5 Reasons Why It Doesn’t Matter Whether or Not You’re Getting Engaged Before 25

As published on [Thought Catalog].

I’ve seen my fair share of “Everybody’s getting engaged and having babies and I’m over here eating pizza” retweets on Twitter. One of my best friends from high school just posted her big ole rock on Facebook for all to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over. And I’ve read tons of posts on being young and in love and consumed well-meaning advice on whether or not we (me and my fellow twenty-somethings) should get married young.

My real question: Why are we so concerned with whether or not others are getting engaged in their early twenties?

But I’ve come to one shocking conclusion: It really doesn’t matter whether or not someone is getting engaged before 23, 25, or at any damn point in their twenties.


1. Let’s be honest, we don’t really care about whether or not someone is getting engaged.

We just want to know so we can talk about them or compare their lives to our own.

Aka: after fake congratulating the couple at the hometown bar where we happened to run into them, we go home, turn on Netflix, and binge-watch five episodes of American Horror Story while spooning mint chocolate chip ice cream straight from the container, trying to pretend that we’re not utterly and terribly single.

Or we roll our eyes as we sort our bills, knowing that we would never be so foolish as to start a life with someone else straight out of college.

Either way, it’s not really about them. It’s all about us.

2. It’s all subject to our judgments anyways.

This is one of those issues where there really is no right answer. Sure, to the ‘I’m perfectly capable on my own’ type of girl (you know the type, the one who will never ask for help nor give any guy the time of day), getting married young is absolutely ridiculous. But to the hopeless romantic with Nicholas Sparks’ entire collection on her bookshelf, being young and in engaged is straight from a fairytale.

There isn’t a right or wrong. It’s subject to opinion, so in the end it’s best to mind our own.

3. Furthermore…We have our own lives to live.

Let’s face it. It’s not a three-way relationship. It’s the couple. Him-her, her-her, him-him, whatever way you spin it we’re not included. (Unless it’s some three-way type of relationship, but then that’s an entirely different issue for a different blog).

But ultimately we’re not in the relationship. Whether we agree or not is irrelevant to our own lives. We have our own lives to live. We can choose whichever side we believe in for our own marriage proposals—young, old, whenever.

4. Worrying about others’ happiness and love lives isn’t going to make us any happier.

Or make our perfect-in-every-way significant other magically appear at our doorstep.

I’m sorry to disappoint, but bashing the twenty-two-year-old who’s perfectly content with settling down or chastising the thirty-year-olds for not wanting to get hitched sooner won’t help us find Mr. or Mrs. Right.

5. And finally, the biggest dilemma. We don’t understand love.

We don’t even understand the concept of love, so how can we say anything about the legitimacy of someone’s engagement or age when getting hitched?

I think this one’s pretty self-explanatory. What is love? Ask a preschooler and he’ll say “When Mommy makes me grilled cheese.” Ask a ninety-year-old, married for half a century and she’ll say, while clutching a photo of her deceased husband in her wrinkled hands, “An eternal bond.”

Bottom line: we don’t have a set definition for love. It happens when it happens. Or, maybe it doesn’t happen until you’re older. Who cares?

We’re way too concerned with the lives of others, I say we just go out and live ours. Who knows? Maybe we’ll just happen to come across love ourselves…age twenty-one-and-a-half or eighty-seven.

Confessions of a Foodie

I made a deal with my boyfriend. He shaves his disgustingly long and furry (okay its not that bad, but its pretty bad…aka too scruffy for a college guy…aka he looks homeless) beard when I get a toned stomach.

I guess it was me that brought the deal on in the first place. I wanted something to motivate me, and I knew if it was something to work for, he would actually call it a legitimate deal and shake on it.

Well little did I know that making this deal would become something nagging and frustrating. I knew going in that this would be a challenge. I love food, I don’t do well with diets, and even though I work out plenty I don’t have good self control when it comes to meals. Since I’ve been visiting my boyfriend for vacation in California though, its the only thing I’ve heard. Every bite, every second I want to nap over workout, every morsel food I shuffle around my plate.

Since this morning I’ve gotten sh*t about the size of my Mexican dish, I’ve heard comments about taking a week before starting to work on my body, I’ve dealt with under-the-breath mentions of ”Wow, babe, you must be hungry” and “you’re craving food again,” and “better get working on that six pack” and “it’s gonna be a long few months” and even side notes about how drinking works against healthy living and eating and exercise. Okay, I get it.

All I wanted was for these ten days to be fun; once I’m back home I’ll start working hard, but until then I want to enjoy myself. I want to eat food without feeling like sh*t. I want to eat what I want without instantly regretting it.

And then there’s the things that bother me without anyone meaning to. Like when my boyfriend was rubbing my back when we were on the couch watching a movie. He made a comment about my bra strap, “Baby, you don’t have to wear it so tight”. It almost brought me to tears because I’ve always kept it on the tightest clip, I’ve just gotten wider in the past few months I guess (or maybe it’s the Mexican food).

Then there’s his mom’s food journal on the counter. She’s well on her way to her weight goal…way ahead of me. Cry. That awkward moment when you realize you weigh more than someone who’s twice your age and has had a kid.

And so it becomes an obsession. You can’t stop thinking about the leftover re-fried beans and veggies you had a few hours ago. You don’t want to swim because you feel like sh*t. You look at yourself in the mirror and you tear up.

It was fine just yesterday, now you realize what a long road you really have. But you can’t motivate yourself to run, and you can’t stop thinking about that mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer downstairs.

What’s wrong? Maybe the fact that all of a sudden you hate yourself and your not happy and you know the response you’ll get in reaction, “Baby you’re too emotional. Are you on your period?”

So what do you do? You say f*ck it. Because ultimately life is too short to keep yourself from that little squeeze of Hershey’s in your milk or the side of guacamole. Hell, what’s ten days in the scheme of things? You’ll meet your goal, you made a deal, you promised.

So you shrug off the comments, pick your sorry self from the couch and run around the block. Then you order the beef and cheese burrito. You know who you are and who you’ve always been. You like food, so what? Goals and bets, you’ll get there when you get there. Right now you’re on vacation and the Oreo cookies are calling your name.