A Letter To My Uber Driver

A Letter To My Uber Driver

A one night stand I will never regret.
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Dear Uber Driver,

I know you probably don't remember me, but I remember you. I know you have driven around plenty of other women, and I have had many different Uber drivers in the past. But you were special.

It had been a long night. I had sweat off half of my makeup and my party pony had lost most of it's 'party'. I knew it was time to go home. When I needed you the most, you were there for me. You pulled up right in front of the bar so I wouldn't have to walk far. You knew that my feet hurt. You didn't even care that I had already taken off my heels. You just wanted me to be comfortable.

You let me blast the air conditioning when I was feeling warm. I knew you were cold, I could tell by the way you shifted the air vents. But you didn't even care. You let me change the temperature to 60 degrees and turn your car into a refrigerator.

You handed me the aux cord. As I took it from your hand and plugged it into my phone I knew this would be a ride I would never forget. You didn't force me to listen to country music or make me listen to your friend's mixtape. You let me listen to Broccoli by D.R.A.M (feat. Lil Yachty) and embarrass myself with my tequila infused dance moves. You didn't even talk to me about your childhood or your recent divorce. And when the song was over, you let me play it again.

You had water bottles in a cooler in the back seat. You cared about my hydration. You knew it was humid that night and you were prepared. How did you know Aquafina was my favorite? It's almost as if you were destined to pick me up that night.

You fed me when you knew I was hungry. It was 3 a.m. All I wanted was a spicy chicken sandwich from Chickfila, but you knew they were closed. You had a basket full of granola bars, pretzels and potato chips waiting for me. You saved me from having to cook a frozen pizza in my underwear when I got home that night, and I could not be more appreciative.

Sometimes I go back to that bar where we first met in hopes that I will find you. But at the end of the night, I am always greeted by an unfamiliar face. I have had to face the harsh reality that we will never meet again. I have accepted it and moved on. But just know one thing. I have never met another Uber driver who made me feel as special as you did that night. It is hard for me to know that you will be out with some other girl tonight, handing her a cold Aquafina and a bag of Doritos. Maybe some people are just meant to be in your life for one night.

Until we meet again...

xoxo, Brooke.

Cover Image Credit: static.digg

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To The Boy Who Will Love Me Next

If you can't understand these few things, leave before things get too involved
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To the boy that will love me next, I need you to know and understand things about me and my past. The things I have been though not only have shaped the person I’ve become, but also sometimes controls my life. In the past I’ve been used, abused, and taken for granted, and I want something real this time. The guys before you were just boys; they didn’t know how to treat me until it was too late. They didn’t understand how to love me, until I broke my own heart. Before you truly decide to love me I want you to understand these things.

When I tell you something, please listen.

I’m my own person, I want to be loved a certain way. If I ask you to come over and watch movies with me please do it, if I ask for you to leave me alone for a few hours because it’s a girl’s night please do it. I don’t just say things to hear my own voice, I say things to you because it’s important to my life and the way I want to be loved. I’m not a needy person when it comes to being loved and cared for, but I do ask for you to do the small things that I am say.

Forgive my past.

My past is not a pretty brick road, it is a highway that has a bunch of potholes and cracks in it. I have a lot of baggage, and most of it you won’t understand. But don’t let my past decided whether you want to love me or not. My past has helped form who I am today, but it does not define who I am. My past experiences might try and make an appearance every once in a while, but I will not go back to that person I once was, I will not return to all that hurt I once went though. When I say those things, I’m telling the complete and honest truth. I relive my past every day, somethings haunt me and somethings are good reminds. But for you to love me, I need you to accept my past, present and future.

I’m just another bro to the other guys.

I have always hung out with boys, I don’t fit in with the girl groups. I have 10 close girlfriends, but the majority of my friends are guy, but don’t let this scare you. If I wanted to be with one of my guy friends I would already be with him, and if you haven’t noticed I don’t want them because I’m with you. I will not lose my friendships with all my guy friends to be able to stay with you. I will not cut off ties because you don’t like my guy friends. I have lost too many buddies because of my ex-boyfriends and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. If you don’t like how many guy friends I have you can leave now. Don’t bother trying to date me if you can accept the fact I’m just another bro.

I might be a badass, but I actually have a big heart.

To a lot of people I come off to be a very crazy and wild girl. I will agree I can be crazy and wild, but I’m more than that. I’m independent, caring, responsible, understanding, forgiving, and so such more type of woman. Many people think that I’m a badass because I don’t take any negatively from anyone. Just like we learned when we were younger, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all.” Most people can’t do that in today’s world, so I stick up for myself and my friends. I don’t care what anyone thinks about me, or their option on how I live my life. The only thing I care about is being able to make myself happy. Even though I’m an independent woman, understand that I do have a big heart. Honesty when I truly care for someone I will do just about anything they ask, but don’t take advantage of this. Once you take advantage of this part of me, all respect will be lost for you.

I’m hard to love.

Sometimes I want to be cuddle and get attention, and sometimes I don’t want you to talk to me for a couple hours. Sometimes I want you to take me out for a nice meal, but sometimes I want a home cooked meal. Every day is different for me, sometimes I change my mind every hour. My mood swings are terrible on certain days, and on those days you should probably just ignore me. I’m not easy to love, so you’ll either be willing to find a way to love me, or you’ll walk out like so many others have.

I’m scared.

I’m scared to love someone again. I’ve been hurt, heartbroken, and beat to the ground in my past relationships. I want to believe you are different, I want to hope things will truly work out, but every relationship has always ended up the same way. I’m scared to trust someone, put my whole heart into them, just to be left and heartbroken again. I sick and tired of putting my whole body and soul into someone for them to just leave when it is convenient for them. If you want to love me, understand it won’t be easy for me to love you back.

When “I’m done.”

When I say “I’m done” I honestly don’t mean that I’m done. When I say that it means I need and want you to fight for me, show me why you want to be with me. I need you to prove that I’m worth it and there’s no one else but me. If I was truly done, I would just walk away, and not come back. So if I ever tell you, “I’m done,” tell me all the reasons why I’m truly not done.

For the boy who will love me next, the work is cut out for you, you just have to be willing to do it. I’m not like other girls, I am my own person, and I will need to be treated as such. For the boy that will love me next, don’t bother with me unless you really want to be with me. I don’t have time to waste on you if you aren’t going to try and make something out of us. To the boy who will love me next, the last thing I would like to say is good luck, I have faith in you.

Cover Image Credit: Danielle Balint

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What If I Told You Jelly Wrestling Was The New Date Party

Why a pool of jelly should be on every college students bucket-list.

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Right now, my house looks like something out of a Dr. Seuss novel. Our garden is bright pink, squishy and arguably smells and tastes pretty damn good. This may be because we've dumped 300L of premium non-toxic wrestling jelly around our entire house. Don't judge! The thought of carrying a swimming pool full of jelly to the dumpster at the end of the street is quite disheartening on a Sunday morning.

Why did we have 300L of jelly in a pool in our living room? I'm still asking myself the same question.

In a joint effort to make the most of our dwindling weeks in Alabama, our house decided to host the event of the year. We wanted to baffle the local Alabamians and make them wonder just how strange international students are - spoiler alert: we succeeded. After taking inspiration from our exchange predecessors (a group of rowdy boys who originally coined the idea in their last semester of exchange at Alabama), we decided to host a jelly-wrestling event. It was relatively unheard of, would provide hilarious entertainment for our guests, and most importantly, go down in history with this batch of internationals.

We ordered the jelly, filled the blow-up pool, and orchestrated a guest list through a process of inviting anyone we knew/met in the week leading up to it. We were so obsessed with getting multitudes of people at this party that I totally forgot I would need to lather myself in jelly and fight in front of all of them.

As the weekend approached, my nerves built. I hesitantly watched the jelly set throughout the day. We planned our outfits, our walk-on songs and the presentation of player profiles (so much effort went into this event). As it got closer, I became more and more doubtful in my ability to willingly make a fool of myself in the jelly.

I have always prided myself in my confidence. I try to never be fake and preach the need to disregard what others think of me. However, when your living room fills with eager college students (90% of whom are strangers) chanting to see the entertainment they were brazenly promised, it's fair enough to have a moment of self-consciousness.

My fellow party host — also the most courageous, carefree and funny person I know — approached me in-between mingling with guests. "We need to wrestle," she said. "The crowd is at its peak, and they're all waiting." She was right. I could feel their hunger for our humiliation in the air. We were the zoo animals, and they had come to see us.

I shook my head. There was no way I could live up to the expectations of this untamed crowd — I was in way over my head. I fumbled with excuses, "someone else should go first! I'm not even dressed and I" — she stopped me. Handing me a drink, she pleaded once more with her eyes. It was time.

I skulled the drink, changed into my warrior outfit and wrestling robe and took to the stage. Cheers erupted from the crowd, not for me personally, but for the prospect of entertainment at our expense.

I tried not to look anyone in the eyes — maybe I could avoid being identified as that girl who rolled around in jelly in future scenarios if I didn't let anyone see my face. My internal monologue began, a welcomed distraction to the voracious onlookers. I reminded myself that I wanted to do this. Wrestling in jelly is such a fun concept, and I had been excited for the entire week. I'd never get to participate in something this strange and hilarious again, so why was I so scared?

I looked over at my fellow host. She was laughing along with the crowd and seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. As I sat across from her in that $40 Target blow-up pool, watching her giggle at how silly we were, I felt ultimate respect towards her. It takes a certain (fabulous) kind of person to forego any and all embarrassment and find humor in their own bizarre actions. She didn't take herself seriously at all. She knew this was crazy, and yet she was totally unashamed. The crowd respected her for putting herself out there. I know I'll always think back to that moment and remember how much I valued her for attaining that quality.

So many eyes were on us, and for the first time all night, there was silence. Our referee and jelly life-guard counted us in. Three… two… one… GO!

I don't even remember the match. All I remember is rolling around in a big bowl of jelly with another girl while the crowd yelled and screamed in disbelief that this was actually happening. Most of my concentration went into trying to not wet myself while hysterically laughing.

Those three rounds of jelly-wrestling were some of the most fun I have ever had. We sparked an entire night of matches, bringing strangers together to dive into the slime. I walked around with pride. All inhibitions were released. It might have just been the drink I skulled prior to the match, but I remember feeling absolutely invincible like nothing could embarrass me. I knew I would never let the fear of what others might say about me stop me from having fun. I could put myself out there in front of a total crowd of strangers, and if they didn't like it then it wouldn't be my problem.

For those who have never dabbled with jelly-wrestling, I highly recommend. It's a fantastic way to build confidence, make new friends, and create a lasting impression of how strange international students are. We can now confidently say we've left our mark in Alabama... Literally — our living room floor is stained red.

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