So I'm checking my outfit in the mirror on my way out and I think to myself "I'm too hot to be ghosted". And I really am! Hot, that is. I'm funny, intelligent, independent, charming, witty, compassionate, really overall just a fucking stellar person. My mother will testify to my awesomeness and it's no secret that I am my father's favourite. I mean, I know I'm also lazy, don't do housework or make my bed, pretty much fucked up most of my friendships due to this thing called clinical depression and I can also be a bitch. But I swear the good far outweighs the bad. And I am super aware of my faults and actively working on my childhood trauma. I apologize when I'm wrong and I'm in therapy! Who wouldn't want to date me? If I could, I would marry me, I'm a real catch. So you can imagine it only took my empowered feminist self a full month to finally gather the courage to tell the male friend I've been crushing on all damn...