- a group of guys going out: hell yeah man i'm gonna get fucked up and if i find a hot girl i wanna take home i might need a wingman just fyi
- a group of girls going out: okay ladies remember we're going in in formation B so we don't lose sight of one another, but if there's any trouble we decided on secret hand gesture alpha-6. don't accept drinks from anybody, we just can't risk it tonight. stacey, did you print out the blueprints of the frat house? oh i see you color coded it so we know which areas have the highest population density and which rooms are well lit, excellent. marie i need that report on incidents of date rape from the last five years. thanks. alright, i think we're all set then. remember the buddy system. let's have a wild night ladies, but stay safe.
everyone has that “thing” about them that people talk about when you’re not there.
WHAT IS MINE
No, and it particularly bothers me that women are held to a different standard in this than men. Also, It’s such a weird thing to care about. Like, imagine if I started eating Cheerios for breakfast, would Cheerios be like “I’m the 48th cereal you’ve tried eating?! I don’t feel special!” Well then screw you Cheerios, I can’t go into the past and un-eat all those cereals, but that doesn’t mean i don’t genuinely enjoy your wholegrain crunch.
— John Green on “do you think it matters how many people a person has slept with?” (via in-the-arms-of-isabel)