For 11 months of the year, being single is kind of alright. I mean thankfully during the summer there’s no idiot trying to chuck you into the water when you go to the beach. Seriously mate, watch my hair. You don’t have to think of a creative couples Halloween costume OR share your Easter eggs with anyone while watching a movie. And while these 11 months are all well and good, I usually spend them looking forward to the 12th month of the year until it comes around and hits me as hard as Santa coming down the chimney. After many failed attempts at finding the man of my dreams I have come to terms with the fact that turning 21 in January as a single gal will be just fine as long as I don’t have all my fuckboys standing too close together in one room if I have a party… let’s keep that tequila flowing, people! I’m joking, obviously. I hope. Let me recheck my invite list…