On forgetting the name of your dog I started to wear my favourite perfume again. It is citrusy, and my mom gifted it to me, but I stopped using it for a year because whenever I did, I expected to find you sitting next to me. I wore vanilla for a while. I liked it less, but at least I was not haunted by ghosts. I would spy on your life like a child outside a candy shop. The new city, the new job, the new girl. And what about me? On my side of the fence, I was stuck. Couldn’t move forward,...

Cry Me a River: Be Wary of Thy ‘Sensitive’ Boys During my stint here in St Andrews, one of the few guys I became involved with was supposed to be easy. A short-term friends-with-benefits situation for a girl down on her confidence. He was sweet and, most dreaded of all, sensitive. As I came to discover for myself, sensitivity is misunderstood. At first, I thought it was a sign of being comfortable with your masculinity. This boy pro claimed to love romcoms, sang in public, wore jewellery,...

Apply for The Saint — it might get you a girlfriend Everyone wants a cute meeting story. It’s a guaranteed smile and chorus of cooing ‘awws’ when you’re introduced to her friends and she starts recounting how you rescued her from a shark or a burning house, while you sit there with a bashful smile. Meeting stories matter because they hold two stories at once: how you met each other, and how you both happened to be in that exact place at that exact moment. It’s why I’ve never liked dating...