Your young adult life will bring a lot of major changes that will be bigger than the box you check under “relationship status.” You’ll want to find a career that fulfills you, feel financially stable enough to do so, and move across the country multiple times to find the place you’re meant to be. Not to be such a Debbie Downer, but get this, single Josie: You’ve got a lot more to worry about than which frat guy you should bring to formal. Your relationship status is the least of your problems. While I still have much to learn in my life, looking back at the girl who was drinking a little bit too much punch at frat houses (relatable me) or crying in a Paris métro station because she couldn’t find which train took her to the Champs-Élysées (bougie me), here are the 12 things I wish I could tell my single self and maybe you’d want to tell your single self too:ġ. I’m hoping it becomes an Eat, Pray, Love kind of best-seller, and Julia Roberts will play me in the movie adaptation. I traded in a Frenchman for a baseball player, and years later, I swear it’s because of the ways I got to know what I really wanted during my alone time in Paris. Near the end of my time in Paris, his persistence finally wore me down, and I decided to respond.Ī Facebook conversation turned into phone calls for hours, and phone calls turned into mailing gifts, and before I knew it, I was head over heels before I even crossed the Atlantic to come back home. And then a funny thing happened: Despite my swearing-off relationships, a cute baseball player from back home had been reaching out to me. I started to know myself in a way I never had before. I traveled every weekend, sometimes on my own. I spent every evening exploring the city by myself, sitting in cafes and people-watching with a glass of wine and a croque monsieur. Instead, I spent every day in French classes and working at ELLE magazine, an internship I had longed for all my life. Before going to Paris, I pictured I would start up a love affair with a Frenchman who would say romantic things to me in adorable broken English while baking soufflé au chocolat (a girl can dream, right?). Spoiler alert: that is not what happened (though that sounds like a killer rom-com premise). It was the first time in my life I really, truly discovered who I was, in the most Carrie-Bradshaw-cliché way possible. Five months spent in Paris ended up changing the entire trajectory of my life for more reasons than one (quick personal apology to my coworkers who have to listen to me say “ this one time when I studied abroad in ~Paris~” about three times a day).
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