I wish life was still that simple. Or not simple, whatever.

Now when I listen to a shell, I laugh silently inside – unable to go to the place where I was so long ago. Little, unemployed and…sheltered. After moments of pressing the shell so hard against my ear, it started to itch – I realized I was 23 years old and listening to shells in my little cousin’s bedroom during a wedding shower…

Anyway, I was extremely inspired by my shell discovery. I’ve been getting into a bad habit lately of being unable to go past what I think I’m capable of. Let me explain. When I was in college, I was the shell. Ok, when you stop laughing and snorting snot all over your keyboard, please keep reading.

When I was in college, I looked up into the sky and saw myself doing anything. I would wonder where on earth I was going to end up. HOW would I GET there? Now that I’m “grown up” and employed I laugh silently inside, unable to get to that dreamy and superficial place of wonder. I want to go there again and I want everyone to know that it’s OK to go there.

We graduate. We cry. We say goodbye. We thrash madly to get a job to become successful. We get a job and become successful. And sometimes, we keep wondering. Is this what I’m supposed to be doing right now? Is there room for me to grow? I don’t want to feel shameful when I think these things, or like some kind of fail whale. A little bit of success can make you feel both successful and comfortable with wanting a little more. And we should want more! We should want to grow within a job. We should want to wonder if are exerting all we can to make the job a fabulous experience. It’s good to know that while I don’t want to make myself feel cocky – I want to make it OK to dream and imagine where I want my life going.

Because in a way (don’t hate me, I’m not on drugs) my life is a shell. I used to sit and listen to what that little shell told me. It told me to wonder and dream. I want to sit and listen – and hear something I don’t know everything about.

Juno said it herself, “WOAH, DREAM BIG.” Let the world take you wherever you let it and let it. There should be no apologies for dreaming past success. Life is just too short to marinate in goals and dreams that aren’t completely magical.

Woah. I blame this entire epic post on the fact that I’m watching Extreme Makeover Weight-loss Edition.

Even though we don’t want to, sometimes it’s hard not to compare ourselves to other girls. Yes, we may be able to look smoking hot when we try, but then we go out and see someone skinnier than us, or prettier than us, or with a better ass. And, without trying, we immediately give up on nabbing a man because he isn’t going to want us anyway. Not with those girls around.

And that is not OK (and neither are the self-loathing results of today’s daily poll!), especially when you realize what guys really want. Newsflash: it’s not what we have always thought. Ok, so yes, guys do dream about hot girls with big boobs, but that is not what they go for in the real world. According to one guy, what they do want is you. Who knew?

I stared around the room, half willing the boy to wake up and prove me wrong – by initiating another round of lovin’ – and half planning my silent escape while he was still passed out.

It never changes. And I don’t think it is much different for anyone. No matter how great the evening was, no matter how hot you looked in that brand new going-out shirt and no matter the fact that he came onto you, we all spend some of the after-glow fearing the worst:

He is not going to remember what happened.

He is going to roll over, see me and freak out.

He is going to vomit from the amount of alcohol it took for him to find me attractive.

And the questions:

What do we talk about?

What did we talk about?

How is this going to go?

In the moment – when we are six drinks deep and a hot guy has his hand on the small of our back, whispering in our ear – there seems to be no better idea than sharing a cab and heading back to his place. We know deep down that the alcohol is making the decision for both of us, but (at least at that moment) who cares? This is all good, clean fun.

It’s when the alcohol wears off and we are lying next to a complete stranger…naked…that reality begins to set in. And reality brings a whole lot of self-doubt.

What I learned on that particular morning (besides the fact that the boy did not regret the night before, as he did it all again in the morning light) is that I am not alone in my fear. He, too, woke up and stared at the ceiling wondering if those shots had put me over the edge. If I would remember who he was. If I had a good time the night before. I couldn’t believe it; it was his house, after all, and he was totally sexy. How could he have any doubts at all?

The morning-after is awkward for all parties involved. From morning breath to the number exchange (do we, or don’t we?) no one is really prepared for it. So throw the self-hating out the window and take comfort in that fact. Approach the morning-after with the same sense of confidence and sexiness you rocked at the bar. Because nothing is sexier than confidence, and no one turns down morning sex (no matter how bad your breath is).

I walked past her, gave her a once over and vowed to make her my enemy. As I sat down behind her, Becca turned around and began talking to me. And she was just so nice; bubbly, friendly, funny. As much as I wanted to hate this girl, she was making it damn near impossible. Like a Lifetime after-school special, we became fast friends and have remained that way ever since. (Side note: It is still hard to hit the bars with this one because men fall instantly in love with her…while I chug beers in the corner.)

Anyhoo, yesterday I was chatting with Becca about our current man problems. Becca, it seems, is dating the perfect man who does and says the perfect things and pretty much adores her (as he obviously should…the girl is the complete package!). Yet, even with all of that, Becca finds herself doubting the entire thing and expecting the worst. She is constantly questioning if he likes her, if he wants to be with her and if she is getting too attached.

Obviously, I feel bad for my friend and hate to see her so down. At the same time, however, I was so surprised to find out that even the best of the best – the perfect, beautiful girls –think and feel the same things as me. That they too find themselves splayed out on the couch, cell phone in hand, waiting for him to call. Or asking their friends what is wrong with them that the boy they love doesn’t show it back?

It was like a moment of clarity for me; I mean, how can someone like Becca ever doubt herself? How can she ever question if people (especially guys!) like her? The whole conversation just made me realize that everyone has their moments of vulnerability in relationships. It doesn’t matter if that person is “perfect” or not-quite- so; every single one of us has some self-doubt and fear of getting hurt.

I really always thought Becca had it all, but even girls like her suffer the same pains and gallons of pick-me-up ice cream as the rest of us. I guess I find it sort of refreshing in a way; it reminds me that I am not alone, that we are all somewhat the same, and moments – even if they stretch on for weeks – of self-doubt are totally normal.