Girls all over the world spill the tea to me about their most intimate questions.
They thank me for talking about sex with them.
For fixing their love lives.
I wonder if I’d still be a relationship influencer if they knew what a train wreck my own love life is?
If I was writing anyone else advice, it would say things like:
Never drunk-text your ex-boyfriend.
No, seriously, that’s a terrible idea.
But if you insist, maybe double-check the number first.
But I guess I give good…text, because the stranger I messaged wrote back.
And I responded.
He doesn’t have to put up with my colorful personality—as my hot next-door neighbor describes me. Or my messy schedule.
This relationship is as seemingly perfect as my online persona.
Until we agree to meet up.
When he meets the real me, will he hate me forever?
Or will we be one day telling our grandkids about that wrong text, right love?