What is a bramance?

Really, who the hell knows.

As you read this, this site is in the middle of an identity crisis: it’s part cooking/grilling site, part the written history of my amazing friends and their stories, part written history of my own experience as a 20-something who barfs every time she sees an issue of Cosmo Magazine or a pair of Hollister jeans, and continually notices herself wearing outfits that just don’t make sense to work (think flood pants, ACCIDENTALY).

But the identity crisis of this site is similar to the identity crises that I know I personally face, like all the time, and some of my friends as well, as they determine who they are/want to be/really want to be, and where they are/want to go. You know, all that shit that comes with life and being in or out of school, in or out of work, in and out of a relationship, or sometimes, just in or out of bed.

There are a lot of totally dope things about being young, in your 20s or 30s, and grabbing life by the boobs and making it work for you. In a moment between bra-shopping with my bff and throwing up on myself the first time I heard the term “bromance,” the idea for a bramance came up.

My definition of what that means is somewhere in the following:  If you’ve ever had a friend who has gently tell you your sweater is tucked into your underpants; politely informed you your outfit just “doesn’t make sense” but compliments you for the effort; or judged you though publicly laughed with you for making fun of the misfortune of others, you might have a bramance.

Or if you have a better definition, e-mail me at bramance@gmail.com


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