I, like almost every other person ever, have never been able to keep a New Year’s resolution. And yet, as every December 31 rolls around, I come up with some elaborate detailed plan to get my life in order in the upcoming year.

One year, I said I was going run every single day. I got all the gear and was determined to become one of those lean athletic girls that somehow look very relaxed while running. January 1 rolled around and as I started running down the street, I realized I hated running. I stopped at the top of the hill and promptly turned around, making an excuse that I forgot to stretch, when in reality my lungs felt like they were going to explode and my knees were threatening to buckle under the weight of my freshman-15 body. I now have a motto that goes, “I only run if something is running behind me.”

Last year I thought my resolution was going to be easier to keep. I made a resolution to not eat as much free bread before my meals at restaurants. Usually when I sit down at a food establishment, I’m starving. And when they put that bread in front of me, my hunger takes over. All of a sudden I’m six pieces of bread deep and there’s no longer any room for the entrée I originally ordered. This same concept applies to free chips and salsa. So, last year I tried to control myself before every meal, and failed every time. As I dipped my fourth piece of warm Ciabatta into the seasoned olive oil, I knew I had disappointed myself in yet another resolution.

What is it about the New Year that causes people to want to change? You could literally change anything you want about yourself in the middle of the year, but for some reason the first day feels like the best. Judging by the amount of “new year, new me” tweets, I can tell I’m not alone in this sentiment.

My New Year’s resolution this year is something I shouldn’t have waited this long to change. It’s something I should have been striving for all along. As the ball dropped, I had an epiphany. This year (and for the rest of my life) I vow to never allow myself to become a guy’s second priority. Let me explain myself.

So there I was in the middle of the dance floor frantically searching for someone to smooch as they started counting down. As they hit one I found myself kissing a guy that I had made panicked eye contact with just seconds before. As he pulled away he introduced himself as “Seth” and I responded with a firm handshake and “Marissa McCormick.” You never know when one of these guys could be a potential employer, and I hear they like firm handshakes. I followed my first kiss of 2016 to the bar and as he bought me a drink he turned to me and said, “So what do you do Jessica?” Jessica? I mentally compared the two names in my head and realized that he must be hard of hearing, or he must not really care what my name is. And as I looked up I found him staring directly at my chest, no eye contact anywhere in sight. I grabbed my drink (because I felt that I deserved it after he visually assaulted me) and walked away. I heard, “Jessica! C’mon Jessica!” behind me.

I sipped at my rum and mostly coke and wondered when did I become okay with this? Had my standards dropped so low that I could just overlook the fact that a guy didn’t even take the time to remember my name or overlook a perfectly executed handshake? And then the realization came crashing down around me like the confetti still falling from the ceiling. I’ve allowed myself to become a second priority.

Why am I okay with getting a text at 2 o’clock in the morning to come over? There’s only one reason someone’s texting you at that time and it sure as hell isn’t to ask you what your opinion is on the 2016 election race. And why does a Snapchat from a guy I liked make me feel like he truly likes me? Since when is four seconds of a guys face with no caption make up for the fact that we actually haven't ever texted consistently. Or let alone talked in six months. And why am I okay with someone texting me back two whole days after I responded? There’s no way that you were so busy that you couldn’t look at your phone once for two whole days. Unless you were off saving the world, then you shouldn’t be texting me in the first place. Don’t even get me started on the last minute cancelled plans.

Being called Jessica made me realize that I deserve more. I’m no longer okay with being the second thing on someone’s mind. I deserve the good morning texts on a Wednesday, the ice skating dates; the long walks on the beach, the profession of love in the pouring rain. Maybe that’s a little cliché but you get what I mean. Because if Seth from the bar took the time to get my name right, he would have realized that I have some killer knock-knock jokes and I have this great pumpkin muffin recipe that would have blown his mind.

Although I don’t have the best track record with resolutions, I think I owe it to myself to keep this one. My grandma always told me the boys in my life didn’t deserve me, and I’m finally starting to believe her.

You know the line, “I’m a strong independent woman that don’t need no man (that will put me as their second priority.)"

Learn to live by that this year.