Author: Eloise Kneadly

I Don’t Have a Crush on Him

Raza is sleeping right next to me as I type. Tonight, Cameron, Raza, and I decided on a sleepover, so I get the comfy red couch, Raza gets the foldout black futon, and Cameron gets to cozy up in his bed. I hate admitting this, but I turned the brightness all the way up on my computer for a second, and turned the light towards Raza’s face, to see what he looked like all sweet and cocooned under the covers.

Don’t get this mixed up, though. I do not have feelings for him. Read More…

I’d be the Perfect Bride in an Arranged Marriage

There’s this boy that I’d been sleeping with for a while– his name is Raza– and over the past week we’ve gotten really close. An important aspect of our relationship was intimacy, so before I debrief into my self-psychoanalysis, I want to cover the sex (sorry mom and dad).

It wasn’t always the best.

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Silly Nick Holiday!

Thought I’d share a funny short update on Nicholas Henry Holiday here, for the three people on here who’ve been following my life.

If you want a refresher, rereading the preface (AKA my first three-or-so paragraphs) of my On College Loneliness and My First College Boyfriend post would give all the context needed for this.

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The Friend Zone

My closest friend Toph and I went on a friend date on Friday. It was sort of an early birthday celebration– really early, because I don’t turn 18 until January– but since Toph is going abroad on a trip with his Middle Eastern studies class during my birth month, we decided to dub it as such. That day was probably the best I’ve had in recent memory, and so I couldn’t help but update my Snapchat and Instagram stories every time we arrived at a new destination to show off its greatness.

In one of the captions, I hashtagged #FRIENDSHIP in big letters across the screen. My friend, Juniper, sent me a private message shortly after that read:

Damn! Friendzoned the shit out of his cute ass!

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To My Future Husband…

This post goes out to Charles E Stetson, the man of my dreams. He doesn’t know it quite yet, but we are very much destined to be with each other. What a beautiful, beautiful human. Every psych class, he sits two tables away from me and my eyes couldn’t feel more blessed than they do looking at his curly hair, glasses, and pullover sweater with the collar of his button down poking out.

He’s the one.

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When No One Takes You Seriously

Sometimes I hate being 17. Correction: most of the time I hate being 17. The only time I ever confidently claim my age is when I’m sucking up to old people who are absolutely impressed by how a 17-year-old youngin’ got her way into college a year before her peers. Besides them, everyone loves to patronize me.

“OMG. You were only nine months old when 9/11 happened?” My roommate, Flower Hussain, brilliantly deduced in front of all of her friends. We were on the top floor of Mellwitt Hall in room 410, and the gathering of girls were blown away at the prospect of a 17-year-old attending their institution.

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Adventures in My Ex-Boyfriend’s Sleepwalks

Taking a break from the long posts I’ve been writing, let’s have some light fun and reminiscing of the good moments I had in my life.

Nicholas Henry Holiday and I would sleep together nearly every night, and I quickly found out that he sleepwalks. There wasn’t a single night we slept together that he didn’t wake me up. I thought I’d share the first time it had ever happened to me.

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On College Loneliness and My First College Boyfriend

Going into my freshman year, I was told that college can be a lonely time for us adolescents. Had you known me exactly one month ago, I would have disagreed: I had a rich, popular boyfriend, went to parties on the weekends, and had friends galore. If you had asked me a month ago from tomorrow, I would have one-thousand percent concurred.

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I’m Basically Homeless

Right now, I’ve been living in this weird nomadic limbo. I was just recently kicked out of my room in Mellwitt Hall (more like Mellshit, am I right?) by my amazing roommates Lola and Queenie. It’s unfortunate that Lola shares the same nickname as me, and now, knowing how badly I dislike her, I wish my name resembled nothing of her character.

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