From the ages of 18 to 22, it feels like a lifetime has passed. An overexposure to everything from love and sex to rules and grades has left me with a degree in life.

The fact that spring tends to bloom young love in addition to flowers really pisses me off.

Last week, my boyfriend asked me for a stamp. The next day, he asked me for my zip code, claiming he wanted to look up the nearest Yoshinoya Beef Bowl restaurant to my apartment.

Work is a lot more relationship than you expect.

As I stood in the “˜U-Scan’ line at Ralph’s Groceries waiting to purchase my frozen lasagna and Caesar salad ready-pack (my version of a home-cooked meal), I watched a young man in front of me balance a dozen roses, a gigantic purple heart-shaped balloon, a six-pack of Bud Light, and his wallet in his hands.

Karma has not been my friend lately.

The last time I was with you all, my cynicism still bled wholeheartedly into my romantic outlook on life.

Chivalry is dead.

When I was a freshman at UCLA, I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me via MySpace.

It comes as no surprise that almost everyone you meet comes with a little baggage.