Pardon the Interruption

So I’m pretty new to this whole blogging thing. I know, I know…way to catch on to a trend when it’s no longer trendy. Par for the course, I suppose. But one of the reasons I started blogging six months ago is because I want to be a legitimate published author one day. Writing a…

The One-Man Hall of Fame

When I recorded the stories that made up The Forty, I wrote mostly from memory, with the benefit of perspective that comes with the passage of time. Now that I’m back in dating land with a renewed sense of intention (though perhaps lacking enthusiasm), writing about dating in real time has me feeling decidedly feisty….

Expedition Day Five: Send Reinforcements (or Alcohol)

I reinstalled Bumble, added Hinge to my repertoire, and at five days in, I’m already feeling decidedly “meh” about all of it. Coupled with an Office Space-caliber case of the Mondays and intermittent rain clouds, my malaise had me moping around on self-pity island for the better part of the day. After I sent a…

Thats Not How it Works

Not being one to sit and wallow, and since I’m pretty much in a permanent state of introspection, I decided to pull my old friend Bumble off the cloud and add a new app, Hinge, to the line-up. My first impression of Hinge is that, by and large, it’s the exact same group of men…

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Back in December, I left a detail out of my story because it was embarrassing, but I want to share it now. It’s still embarrassing, but it illustrates a larger point. A few days before my 36th birthday, I found myself getting broken up with at an Indian restaurant. I had seen it coming, but…

Jane Austen Vs. The All-You-Can-Eat Buffet

Do you ever feel like you have some area of your life under control, only to be blindsided by evidence to the contrary? I am currently feeling overwhelmed by insecurity, and while most people I know deal with insecurity regularly (it seems to be a fairly unifying human experience), I usually don’t worry too much…

Chasing the Thigh Gap

I’m sitting on his couch, wearing red underwear and a t-shirt he gave me, my feet propped up on the coffee table. He’s lying on the couch to my right, and we’re talking about Saturday morning things, which is to say, nothing of consequence. I’m sorry to change the subject, but I just have to…

I Want to Write, But…

I want to write, but my brain is stretched thin, like getting eight more cookies out of five cookies’ worth of dough. Like squeezing into that cheap-ass dress a size too small — the one with a price I couldn’t resist. Like the shoulder seams of my favorite t-shirt, held together less by thread than…

The Friend Zone Nebula

I need to sort through some things, so bear with me while I analyze several conversations I’ve had with The Voyeur in the past month. Let’s travel back in time to just about four weeks ago. To set the stage, he and I were discussing plans we’d made to grab a drink after work the…

Three Things I Always Assume

I’ve read that making assumptions is an unhealthy habit, but I’ve also read that I shouldn’t believe everything I read. So in the spirit of ignoring conventional wisdom, here are three assumptions I make in just about any social or professional situation I find myself. 1. Everyone likes me. Ok. I know that this one…

A Scene From The Office

I’m wearing a bright scarf today, Looped twice, draped loosely, Too bright maybe. Orange and purple, pink and blue, But mostly orange. With coral lips and a hint of doubt. “Is it too much — all this color?” I ask. “Definitely not,” they assure me, These older women, Whose staunch philosophies Involve never leaving the…

“I’m Not Worried.”

Even though I had plenty of face time with The Leo this weekend, I didn’t ever feel like the time was right for the conversation I wanted to have. I mean, what was I even going to say? You see, the thing is…the reason I asked you to stop reading the blog is because I…

The Trouble With “Too Nice”

I’ve lately started wondering about the sort of dysfunction one must experience and internalize to look at a potential romantic partner and judge them “too nice.” What does it even mean to be too nice? Am I so accustomed to assholes that I’m instantly suspicious of nice guys? (Hint: yes) By picking on this non-existent…