The grocery store is the real high school reunion. TSM.

Learning someone’s name three nights in a row. TSM.

Making guys at the bar guess which sorority you’re in, then getting offended if they guess wrong. TSM.

If he’s not old enough to be your dad, he’s not too old for you. TSTC.

Treating gyms like frat houses: you bounce around for the free trials, but never actually commit to one. TSM.

Waking up and being mildly impressed by how coherent your blackout texts seem. TSM.

“I can live with that.” TSM.

Deciding which underwear to wear based on who’s going to be there. TSM.

I’ll keep flirting because he keeps buying drinks. TSM.

Actually looking genetically related to your big. TSM.

Not needing to pay attention to your follower to following ratio. TSM.

The Sunday morning internal debate on whether to apologize for last night or pretend it never happened. TSM.

The best nights are generally the worst for your jewelry collection. TSM.

On a scale of one to kicked out, how bad would it be if I did this? TSTC.

Referring to your family’s boyfriends as your “Big in Law” and “GBae.” TSM.

The t-shirt being the only proof you went to an event, because your memory is serving useless. TSM.

“I’m drunk. Don’t let me talk tonight.” TSM.

He may not have a six pack, but he does have a trust fund, and that’s kind of better, you know? TSM.

Deciding whether to bring your phone charger out with you at night based on the color of his responses. TSM.

Knowing when to put in full effort and when not to give a shit. TSM.