This May Sound Crazy Read online

THE TEN-TO-ONE RULE

  There is nothing in this world more terrifying than this.

  You’re by your phone, wondering why you haven’t heard from you know who. BAE.

  Well, maybe he’s not bae yet, but you’re hoping to make him bae.

  Here’s the thing:

  boys are confusing.

  They do things like text you like every day at, say, 1:00 p.m. for a week and then all of a sudden: Nah, just not gonna text her today even though the last thing I texted her was “Talk to U tomorrow.”

  And then you go crazy. You’re all like: Did that mean YOU’LL text ME tomorrow or that I should text YOU? See, it’s unclear, and now if I wait for you to text me you might not because you want me to text you and then we might not talk today and then it’s not long before I’m thinking, Wow, he really hates me. I should’ve texted him. I need to grow up and stop playing games.

  But then if I do send that text, all day I’m gonna be thinking, He’s only talking to me cuz he feels bad for me. He doesn’t actually like me. What a GRAVE mistake I have made.

  So yeah. Boys are confusing and they suck.

  Which is why, my dear friends, I am here to help you.

  I have a friend named Nick Simmons and he is my official Boy Consultant. He’s my friend Sophie’s brother, and while she also gives ~bomb~ advice, sometimes it helps to hear a boy’s perspective on the complicated and terrifying realm that is the male brain.

  After texting Nick one night in a bit of a mild freak out that looked something like this:

  Me: . . . .

  NEED HELP RITE NOW

  . . . . Nick:

  Shoot.

  Me: . . . .

  OK SO LJKE WE HAVE BEEN TALKJNG

  NONSSTOP, BUT TODAY HE HASNT

  TDXTED ME YET. AND IDK.

  ITS LJKE WHY RNT U TEXTING ME?

  WHO R U WITH RIFHF NOW?! SHOULD I

  TEXT HIM OR NAH

  See? Mild freak out.

  Nick then proceeded to give me some of the best advice I have ever gotten. I refer to it as the Ten-to-One Rule. It’s very simple yet VERY hard to follow.

  But first let me start this by saying that we are all badass ~queens~ and we can text a guy WHENEVER we want and shouldn’t feel bad about it at all. If you WANT to text a guy first, you SHOULD. It’s 2015; we don’t have to adhere to dumb clichés. However, from talking to Nick I’ve learned that a lot of guys, not all but a lot, really like the chase. Weird and dumb but true. So, if already you’re like “NOPE, I’m gonna text him whenever I want idgaf” then you are way stronger than me, TEACH ME YOUR WAYS. If not, continue reading.

  If a guy starts a text conversation with you five to eight days in a row, then you may start the conversation first ONCE. Got it? Five to eight days of him first means you get ONE day to text him first. It shows you are enjoying talking to him, too, but by then one text shouldn’t scare him off. Then let him start the conversation five to eight days in a row again before you text him first again. I call it the Ten-to-One Rule cuz that’s the ideal: To get him to text first ten times before you text him the one time—and so on and so forth until, of course, you’re both in love. Then you can start texting him whenever.

  ANYWAY, WAITING IS HARD. REALLY HARD. So for those days when you have already used up your one day of texting first, I have OTHER STRATEGIES.

  My personal favorite is to have what I call a Stock Image System. On days when my hair looks good or I really like my outfit or my makeup—days where I don’t look THAT different just especially saucy. I take advantage of that and take as many selfies in as many locations as possible. And then I save them so that I can post them on Instagram and Twitter and Facebook while he’s online. A lot of time, it WORKS. He’ll either comment or like it or outright text to say hi. Yeah. Boys suck. Like REALLY, GUYS, I HAD TO POST A GOOD SELFIE FOR YOU TO REMEMBER MY EXISTENCE?

  But Nick says, “Maybe he just saw that as a good excuse to text you.”

  Which is true.

  Sometimes guys get nervous, too. WE ARE ALL HUMAN.

  The thing is to remember not to use too many excuses, i.e.:

  “Omg I just accidentally saw a tweet of yours from 3 weeks ago where U said u like Breaking Bad. I’m at Barnes & Noble right now. Should I get the first season? I’ve never seen it.”

  {

  Yes, this is

  something

  I have done.

  }

  (And no, he didn’t text back.)

  And if any guy says they are just “bad at texting” . . . Well . . . What that usually means to me is “I’m bad at texting because I hate U.”

  Yeah, maybe that’s dramatic, but I don’t really get that whole excuse. A text takes thirty seconds to send. And if a guy wants to talk to you he WILL find the time to talk to you. Period.

  And this is just a way to take out some of that anxiety over “Should I?/Shouldn’t I?”

  If nothing else, just read this chapter when you are about to make a rash decision. By the time you finish this, if you still want to text him DO IT.

  We will get through these treacherous times together, kids.

  Godspeed.

  Godspeed.

  *Special thanks to Nick Simmons for being the best Boy Consultant and giving me this wonderful tip that has helped me through the most trying of times

  6

  A REAL-LIFE HALLOWEEN HORROR STORY

  I love autumn. I love the look of fall leaves, the crisp air, pumpkin spice lattes. I long for those fall days when I can take a walk through the park. Yes, I am one of those ridiculously lucky people who calls Central Park my park. With an extra hot PSL in hand, a light jacket on, and a good playlist in my pocket, there’s no place I’d rather be.

  Does this make me sound like

  a sixty-five-year-old woman?

  DON’T CARE.

  ANYWAY . . . I love the fall. I am a fall enthusiast. I love going to the farmers’ market in Union Square and getting apples. I love long drives with my mom and my brother Ryan and his girlfriend, April, to get pumpkins in New Jersey. And I love coming home, getting into pj’s, and settling in to watch horror movies.

  BECAUSE, YES, I ALSO LOVE HORROR MOVIES. Horror is quite possibly my favorite genre.

  In bed.

  At home.

  With my cats, dogs, and family surrounding me.

  HOWEVER. Halloween itself?

  WELL . . . not so much.

  One year, my friends and I decided to go to Knott’s Scary Farm. It was a trip that ended with me curled up into a ball on the ground sobbing because of the clowns being there . . . (IN FRONT OF MY CRUSH no less. NICELY DONE, ABIGAIL.)

  Another Halloween, when I was around seven, ended after I rang someone’s doorbell and what I thought was a FAKE plastic mummy turned out to be their son dressed up as a mummy. What did I do when it moved, you ask?

  I threw all of my hard-earned candy on their lawn and ran SCREAMING and SOBBING down the hill to my parents’ car.

  YES.

  My mom then made my brother, Spencer, go back to pick up all my candy.

  THANKS, MOM. THANKS, SPENCER.

  But there was one particular year that was even more horrifying than the rest.

  Because, as you might learn throughout this book, there is no horror film, no haunted house, no Halloween parlor trick in the world that is quite as horrifying as the inside of a fifteen-year-old girl’s mind.

  So let us flash back to Halloween 2011. . . .

  Let me preface by saying that I have NEVER been cool. And that isn’t some self-deprecating “I hate myself” statement. I like myself plenty. I just have never been a “cool kid.” Especially in New York City. For those of you who don’t know the NYC teenager scene, it’s basically a lot of kids with a ton of freedom. New York isn’t like any other city. Most of my friends who live in the suburbs couldn’t wait to be sixteen to get their license so they could go wherever, whenever. In New York City, kids can basically go anywhere from a really young age because
of public transportation and the fact that you can walk pretty much anywhere easily. Because of all of the independence so early on, the teens kind of act like they’re in their twenties. Getting into clubs, parties, whatever. It’s intense. And I wasn’t into that. I was more into staying in my room, writing music and novels. LAWL.

  Back then, my best friend was a girl named Katie. At the time, we were inseparable. And we had decided this would be our best Halloween yet. We weren’t gonna repeat Halloween 2010, trick-or-treating with her ten-year-old brother and sister. NOPE. WE WERE COOL THIS YEAR.

  We spent days figuring out our costumes. She decided to be a cat, and I was a Smurf. The blonde one, DUH.

  We had these adorable outfits. BUT . . . living in New York City, the weather is unpredictable. We woke up and heard it was going to be thirty-five degrees. Not exactly a good day for a cute little Halloween outfit.

  I had also heard that Dan*, the cute guy I was in love with, was having a party. I just knew we would get invited. My other friend Mandy*—this whole story will become clearer after you read Chapter 15: “Why I Love Unrequited Love”—was going to his party, and she HAD to invite me along . . . right?

  Katie and I decided to be nice and take her little brother out trick-or-treating for a few hours before the (inevitable) party. Well, hours passed, her little brother was racking up the candy, and then we both finally got a group text from Mandy.

  A SELFIE.

  OF HER.

  AND DAN.

  WHATTTTTT?!!!!

  “best night ever <3”

  ARE U KIDDING ME?!?

  We were shocked. The party was in full swing, Mandy and Dan were hanging out, and Katie and I were now stuck taking her brother house to house to collect Milky Way bars.

  Most of the houses started turning off their lights, and the night was growing dim. At 8:30 p.m. we decided to turn in. Katie and I walked sadly into a nearby CVS to get twenty bags of now-discounted Halloween candy. WE ARE ANIMALS. We walked back to her apartment—alone.

  We sprawled out in Katie’s room, listening to “Skyscraper” by Demi Lovato on repeat, shoveling mini-Crunch bar after mini-Crunch bar into our mouths, while tears of blue mascara (I WAS A SMURF, REMEMBER?) dripped down my face.

  THIS WAS TRAGIC.

  Katie’s mom asked if we wanted anything because our moms were ordering Chinese food. Sure, we said. Not like we had any cute dresses to fit into for a party or anything.

  “I guess we could just write a song?” Katie asked.

  “Or have our own party?”

  Katie then blasted the ~party anthem~ of the year. LITERALLY. “Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO.

  ..................

  And then we had a lightbulb idea.

  ..................

  We “accidentally” pocket dialed all of our LAME friends who WERE at that party.

  We were screaming and laughing and blasting tons of house music. We were having our own party!

  We laughed so hard we cried. We had the best time ever. Then, we tweeted and posted on fb blurry selfies and captioned them “best Halloween after at the craziest exclusive party in Brooklyn <3 #MEMS”

  YUP.

  WE LIED.

  OH WELL.

  SUE US.

  Would you believe it? The next morning all of our “friends” at the party were now inviting US out to hang.

  But we remembered, they ONLY invited us out after they thought we were doing something cooler than they were. And that wasn’t cool.

  So we spent the rest of our nights eating pizza and candy on her floor, writing songs about boys and watching movies.

  And if doing that isn’t cool, then I don’t ever want to be cool.

  7

  THE TIME RYAN GOSLING GAVE ME A PEP TALK

  Let me clarify this by saying I never have met Ryan Gosling. HOWEVER, I frequently watch Blue Valentine (which is rated R for a very good reason, so if you aren’t seventeen don’t watch it because then your parents will hate me for recommending it). It’s one of my favorite movies ever, even though it’s super depressing because Michelle Williams is life goals (like her clothes, her hair, her acting . . . ugh, just goals). I once watched that film every night for a solid week after a breakup. I figured, I’m already sad, why ruin a good day watching this when I’m happy? I know—weird logic. I watched that movie—and obvi The Notebook—over and over again. I love Ryan Gosling so much. So does my mom. She actually thinks she’s going to marry him one day. (Sorry, Dad.) We even have matching Ryan Gosling socks. (They are literally socks with a billion pics of Ryan Gosling all over them. Judge me. Don’t care.) I even got her a birthday card with a shirtless picture of him on it from that movie Crazy Stupid Love. She keeps it on her nightstand in New Orleans where I’m filming while I’m writing this, so that if people come over and go into her room she can tell them that “the photo on the nightstand is a picture of my husband.”

  The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

  (Really so sorry, Dad.)

  Also, sorry, Ryan Gosling, if you ever find out about this.

  I’m not a stalker. Really.

  Anyway . . . You’re probably wondering what I’m talking about. “You’ve never met Ryan, you say, so then how did he give you a pep talk?”

  Let me explain.

  You know when you have THOSE days? I’m talking about those days that absolutely suck ass, the days when nothing you put on looks good, when your hair isn’t falling the way it’s supposed to (no matter how many different tools, curling irons, flat irons, you use), when your eyeliner is just not working out right, when your wings are uneven. Those days when your whole FACE just looks wrong. You’re in a bad mood—not sad, not angry, just every little thing is ANNOYING. Maybe the guy you like hasn’t texted you back, your salad order came out wrong, there’s a HUGE line at Starbucks, your cab driver is rude, you just can’t get your FREAKING eyeliner wings to match . . . It’s those days when everything just SUCKS.

  We all have those days. LORD knows I do. All the time. Some days I sit in my room and sob to Taylor Swift music just to be dramatic and then Snapchat selfies of myself with my mascara running just to be all emo. Other times I go to my friend Jenni’s house, and I bake gluten-free pancakes and listen to sad music.

  But on my lowest of days, when my friends aren’t around to hang out with me, I sink to lower levels . . . What I do had been my little secret until . . .

  My friend borrowed my phone and noticed that I had text messages in my recents from

  Ryan Gosling,

  Drake,

  Zac Efron,

  and Joseph Gordon-Levitt.

  She immediately said, “OMG, YOU’RE TEXTING RYAN GOSLING?!”

  But before I could grab my phone back, she clicked on the chat box and saw it was her messages to me.

  That was awkward.

  Basically I do this thing sometimes where when I’m really sad I text my friends for advice and when they reply I change their names so it looks like I’m getting messages from hot male celebrities. Then I can read it and think, “Oh my god, Drake is so sweet to send me uplifting quotes.” (Usually, this is actually my friend Denise.) Or “OMG, Ryan really doesn’t have to send me cute pics of mini-potbellied pigs! That’s just too kind.” (That’s my mom with the pics.) Or “Zac . . . is so clingy sometimes, but so adorbz that he really cares for me.” (Summer, of course.)

  Yes.

  I am insane.

  But I’m okay with it.

  As far as I’m concerned, anything that helps you get through the day is okay. As long as it’s not illegal. (If it’s illegal, don’t do that. So not worth it.) But THIS ISN’T, damnit. And if I want to have a dream, I damn well WILL.

  JUDGE ME. #haterzaremymotivatorz

  8

  HOW TO GET OVER A BREAKUP

  Whether someone has just broken up with you, or you have broken up with someone, leaving a relationship is never fun. Even the most dysfunctional couples can suffer a sadness that come
s with the end of something.

  I have been on both ends and neither is easy. I think a lot of the times we think we’re supposed to feel better if we’re the one who ended things, but what I’ve learned is that life and love and relationships are way more complicated than that. It’s often depicted as the classic “you can’t fire me, I quit!” thing but that’s not always what it feels like. Sometimes we break up with people because we know that, ultimately, it’s the best thing for them or for us, not necessarily because we want to. Doing the right thing is sometimes the hardest thing in the world. No joke.

  But this particular chapter is about how to get over someone breaking up with you.

  Although, honestly, this advice pretty much applies to everything.

  1 It’s okay to cry. Like seriously. Crying is really therapeutic. Sometimes I honestly look forward to getting in a nice, good sob. Keeping your emotions bottled up isn’t healthy. If you’re sad and you wanna cry, do it. Ending a relationship is sucky; waterworks should come. Turn on The Notebook, grab a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, and go cry your eyes out. It can feel good to be cliché! I guarantee you’ll feel better afterward.

  2 Write a super-honest letter to your ex, but whatever you do DON’T SEND IT. Write out everything you feel and the reasons why you ended it or why you think they ended it or why you think they’re a total a-hole. Unleash all of your feelings, frustrations, and honest sadness. Then burn it or rip it up. Destroy it. (Sometimes the destroying is even more cathartic than the writing.) I know it sounds really cheesy, but I swear it works. Then dance to your favorite breakup song. Right now “Reflections” by MisterWives is the most right.

  3 Move on. I know it seems hard and I’m not necessarily a proponent of “the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else” because intimacy breeds feelings and it’s a really bad idea to involve someone else in your life if you aren’t emotionally ready to let them in. HOWEVER . . . it is healthy to go out and flirt. Go to a party with your friends, and meet guys. Let them buy you dinner or coffee or drinks. This does NOT make you obligated to kiss them or sleep with them or anything with them. Sometimes just knowing that other people are interested in you romantically makes the sting of a breakup a little less painful.