It’s the start of a new school year and to honor that, we at CollegeCandy are bringing back a fan-favorite series, “We’ve All Been There.” (We tried to get another national holiday/long weekend for you guys but it’s way harder than we thought so this will have to do.) Every week, Lauren – University of Michigan will comment on the common experiences all college women share – like the first day of classes or trying to figure out if that boy is crushin’ too. Read, relate, cringe and enjoy.
The boy you love just broke your heart, so your girlfriends decide that drinking is in order. Because nothing numbs the pain quite like a few shots of SoCo. Together with your roommates, you pick out a super hot outfit (consisting of some combination of low cut top/push up bra), take a few pre-gaming shots and head out the door to either “show him what he’s missing,” or “forget about that jerk.”
The night is perfect: you dance, you drink (a lot), and you even find a cute boy to flirt with in the corner.
Then, obvi, the relentless craving for breadsticks and marinara takes over and you and the girls head home for the Late Night Special from your favorite pizza place.
You make your way to your room to change before the food arrives and are suddenly reminded of just how depressed you are. Why doesn’t he love me? you ask yourself. What is wrong with me? Maybe if I just send him an email and tell him how I feel he will change his mind and want to be with me.
You sit down at your desk.
You turn on John Hiatt’s, “Have a Little Faith in Me,” or the “love songs” channel on Pandora.
You open your email, hoping deep down inside that he has already sent you one, that he realizes he made a big mistake, that he too is sitting at home crying to the soothing sounds of The Fray. That he still loves you.
Your heart sinks.
As the mascara stained tears streak your face and form a puddle on your desk, you start writing your own:
hi. i got drinks and i lovre you. i dont know why you hate meeeee. i lobve yoiu. i want to eat breadsticlks but im too sad czu i love you.
At this point the pizza has arrived and your roommates storm into your room, pizza box in hand, to find you weeping silently over your laptop as you type away. Snot is dripping from your nose and you wipe it with your bare arm just before it hits your upper lip. You don’t care. You just keep typing and crying and really connecting with the sad lyrics blaring out of your laptop speakers.
If you are lucky, your roommates get to you before you hit the send button. If you are not quite as lucky (or a really fast typer), it is only a matter of time until the email is opened and any shred of post break-up dignity is lost. But until then, there is pizza. And breadsticks. And unyielding drunken hope that he’s thinking the same things you just wrote, he was just too distraught to put them in an email yet.
A hope which inevitably dies the minute you wake up in the morning and realize what you’ve done.
Yeah, you’re not alone; we’ve all been there before. Many times.
Just be grateful at least you didn’t wake up with a full slice of pizza smashed between your keys and your screen.