I'm Hedy, I'm 29, and I love One Direction. This weekend's England shows close out the boys' On the Road Again tour, which could possibly be their last tour ever . I know they're calling their upcoming plans a break, but let's be real, a boy band can't last forever, so this weekend might be the last headlining show of their own that they ever play. (They're doing some appearances and Christmas shows for radio stations this Winter, but those totally don't count.)
So to commemorate One Direction's brilliant — if not stressful  — five-year career, I wanted to share my day-to-day struggles of being a fangirl (Fanlady? Is that a word? Can I make it one?) who is no longer a teenager. Sometimes being an adult fan is awesome (Score! Tickets go on sale when I'll be at my desk at work!). And sometimes it's not so great (Bollocks! The autograph signing is in the middle of a Tuesday in July, when I'll be at my desk at work!).
So crank up your copy of Four, fill up your 1D cup  with your favorite adult beverage , and join me on this journey of loving these five beautiful British and Irish guys — because yes, One Direction will always be a five-member group, no matter what.
It all started three years ago with five well-coifed boys playing on a beach and telling me I'm beautiful.
And I'm thinking, OK, these guys are cute.
Then I realized their music is really catchy. And I saw them do all this adorably sexy funny stuff.
But then later, shirts came off, and I realized these weren't really boys anymore. They're actually kinda men.
And I knew I was just doomed from there. And let me tell you, being an adult fangirl isn't easy. You deal with stuff like . . .
When you can feel the judgment coming from the cashier at Target when you're buying new 1D earbuds.
So you can listen to "Best Song Ever" on repeat while you balance your checkbook without everyone knowing.
When you're online trying to sell an extra ticket to a concert, and everyone who responds has to "check with Mom and Dad" first.
Which brings me to . . .
Everything costs so much money. And it's your money you're spending. Not Mom's.
When teenagers argue with you on Twitter over Harry's real name, and you have to school them.
It's Harry, by the way. Not Harold.
When you make a fan account on social media and find other fans who are your age and also love 1D.
And that bond you feel with those other fans your age, because you're generally outnumbered by screaming teenagers.
When arguments break out on Tumblr about who is dating someone new, and you're just sitting over here eating your popcorn.
And probably balancing that checkbook and cooking dinner because you're a strong, independent woman who has to keep a household running and doesn't have time for the drama.
How your inner mom comes out when the boys pull dumb stunts.
Like when we all thought Harry was going to face-plant at 1D Day if it wasn't for their tour manager, Paul Higgins, catching him.
The feeling you get when you understand all the sexual innuendos in their songs that the younger set can't quite grasp.
I know what you guys are talking about in "Live While We're Young" when you say you're not gonna stop until you're done and tonight you're gonna get some. Cheeky.
The way people look at you when you say you're a fan because they think all their fans are 12 . . .
You convince yourself this is what would happen when you meet Harry Styles even though you're old enough to know better.
When you find out last minute that Liam is at a mall in town and is taking pictures with fans, so you hop in your car and go.
And wave a polite hello to the younger fans who are trying to organize a ride to get there because their parents are currently at work.
When you're trying to find merchandise in adult sizes in stores, and you realize it's impossible.
I don't understand why I still can't find underwear with Liam's face on them in my size. Hanes needs to get with the program.
When you find a poster with a recently taken photo of the band. Not one from when they were 16.
And then hang said poster in your closet because your significant other won't let you hang it over the bed like you wanted.
Did I mention the money thing? How all your hard-earned cash is going to this band?
Cool. I love them. But quit taking my money.
The look on your SO's face whenever you mention Harry Styles.
Look, I know I'm not actually going to marry Harry. But it's nice to pretend sometimes.
When you have to decide between paying your phone bill or buying concert tickets, and you're all, "Here, take my dollars."
Just take them all.
But in the end, you regret nothing. Because loving One Direction is an adventure, and you make a lot of awesome friends.
And look at those faces. And all that hair. How can you resist loving all that?