How to Be Alone: If You Want To, and Even If You Don't

by Lane Moore

I’m tired of pretending I’m cool with whatevs. I’m tired of pretending that laziness can replace thoughtfulness and still be acceptable to me. I want it all, man. I want someone who asks me out to make an actual plan, whether that plan involves a jet or a stack of nickels (money is not the issue here), then picks me up at my house and takes me on an actual date full of adorable surprises, not for any kind of financial display necessarily, but because they want me to know that they know I’m special and worth it. I want sweetly curated Spotify playlists and texts in the middle of the day that say cheesy shit like “Hi, I miss you and you’re gorgeous and very smart and have a lot of nice jeans, bye.” I want someone who will be the kind of boyfriend my friends will describe as “Oh my god, he’s like a human version of The Notebook,” instead of as “the guy who asked you to chill on his roof at eleven p.m. and who frankly scares us.”