“I just like everything about him,” I gushed to my friend, clutching my iced coffee like it could somehow absorb the sheer level of my excitement. “He texts back in actual sentences, he cooks and he has this dorky way of checking in everyday.”
My friend gave me one of those side-eyes that said, “Girl, you know exactly how this story goes.”
And he’s right…kind of. Because here I am, caught in the intoxicating glow of the honeymoon high — that glittering beginning where every detail is amplified and dipped in gold. Everything he does feels like it’s been plucked from a rom-com, and I’ve lost count of the times I’ve sat there, chin in hand, thinking, “Could he be the one?” It’s like living in a sparkling bubble where his quirks are adorable, his habits are endearing and I’m one hundred percent convinced he could do no wrong.
How long can the magic last before reality sets in?
In the honeymoon high, you start to sound like an infomercial. “Oh, he brings me coffee in the mornings, but get this, it’s my exact order!” or “You won’t believe it, he actually listens when I talk!” It’s like discovering that, yes, basic decency and mutual affection are a thing. But there’s always this nagging thought in the back of my mind: when does the magic wear off? How long until my charming quirks become mildly annoying habits? Or, worse, until I start Googling “best ways to break up without being the bad guy?”
Because let’s be honest, once you’ve been burned, it’s hard to ignore that little voice whispering, ‘Don’t get too comfortable.’ Right now, it’s easy to let myself think about him constantly, but that other part of me remembers how this can all come crashing down faster than I can say, “But he seemed so perfect!” I mean, once upon a time, I thought it was cute that my ex would talk about his exes to “process his past,” and we all know how that turned out.
But hey, I’m a mess who loves a challenge, and dating is like riding a roller coaster with no safety bar. You know you’re about to be tossed around, probably even upside down, but there’s no backing out once you’re strapped in. This honeymoon phase is like that first climb — slow, exhilarating, and a little terrifying. Every laugh feels like a victory; every “Goodnight, talk tomorrow?” text is a silent confirmation that maybe, just maybe, he’s as into it as I am.
Then, reality creeps in with reminders to “manage expectations,” which sounds reasonable enough but is way easier said than done. Because when you’re in the honeymoon high, expectations are running the show. I expect him to answer every text within an hour or I’m convinced he’s ghosting me. I expect him to find my chaotic energy “endearing” even after he’s seen me without makeup in the cold, unfiltered morning light.
And this is the danger of the honeymoon high — when he says, “Let’s grab brunch,” it’s like we both hear, “Let’s plan forever together,” and we both panic a little. Or when he casually says, “You’re fun to be around,” I’m already texting my friends about how “he’s definitely into it,” while he’s probably wrestling with the same mix of excitement and terror. It’s like we’re both leaning in, both feeling the magic. But every now and then, we get that flash of, ‘Wait, is this moving too fast?’ And then we’re both caught in this whirlwind, unsure if we’re falling in love or just falling.
But for all the risks, I can’t help but dive in headfirst. Because no matter how high the honeymoon might be, there’s something thrilling about letting yourself get swept up in it. So, will I get hurt? Probably. But will I enjoy every sparkly, ridiculous moment until then? Absolutely. And that’s the hot mess way — fall hard, laugh at the bruises and somehow still believe in love. Because even if this bubble bursts tomorrow, at least I got to live in it, even if only for a little while.
Confessions of a Hot Mess is a candid and relatable column by Emily Hess, where she dives into the highs and lows of navigating college life and your twenties. Through personal stories about boys, friendships, love and family, COHM unpacks the messy, beautiful chaos of growing up. From heartbreaks and betrayals to moments of self-discovery, she offers an honest look at the challenges and triumphs that come with this transformative time in life. Each week, readers can expect raw insights, witty anecdotes and reflections on the messy process of becoming.
Confessions of a Hot Mess is the personal work of Emily Hess. The opinions expressed in this column, as well as those published in The Nevada Sagebrush, are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Sagebrush or its staff. Hess is a student at the University of Nevada studying journalism. She can be reached at emilyhess@sagebrush.unr.edu and on Twitter @emilyghess3.
