When I started this blog, I made a vow to myself and to all of you that I wouldn’t use this place to manbash. Even with all of the terrible dates, disappointing break-ups and everything in between, I’ve never revealed an identity of the men I’ve dated or said things that weren’t true.
Well weren’t incredibly exaggerated, I should say.
I never wanted this space to be about the dudes – but about the girls and what it’s like to be a 20-something single gal dating, learning and growing in a big city. So while this post isn’t exactly man bashing… it’s a little more hater-y then my other blogs I’ve written.
I’m sorry I’m not sorry for posting this – but c’mon men.
Laura and I both wrote for Appalachian State’s college newspaper, The Appalachian as lifestyle reporters. After she graduated, she took a similar plunge – except instead of moving to New York, she went to Spain. I’ve always admired her bravery for making a big, big move, but like any relationship, her love affair with Spain was full of highs, lows and stolen moments. Below, she shares her experience. If you’d like to share your own falling in love story – from men to friendships to cities and everything else – email me. Learn more about Falling in Love on Fridays here.
Who I Became: A Love Affair With Spain
I didn’t know it at the time, but Spain was my rebound.
College was my dependable, fun, slightly hippie lover of 4 years… but when the going got rough, no one was surprised that college and I broke up – he wanted to stay in the same place, and I needed to move on.
Recently, I wrote about how dating apps can make you feel like you’re dating… when all you’re doing is scanning pictures and having conversations that legit lead nowhere.
Before I wrote the post, I had a conversation with my roommate C about how logging onto Tinder or Hinge (or countless other dating apps) is so easy, but actually getting up the guts – and putting in the minimal effort – to meet someone for a drink can be really hard to do.
And so we decided we would keep each other accountable for getting out there by creating The Dating Pact. And now, I invite you to join us (and possibly win a prize!)
The rules are simple:
Earlier this year, my dear long-distance best friend, R gave me a really great piece of advice for when I’m feeling a little down: keep a collection of inspiring quotes in your phone to read to perk you up.
Words are powerful – not just for writers like me, but for everyone.
When I’m outside of New York or when I talk to friends from home or another state, I almost always get asked: what’s it like to date in New York City?
It sucks. It’s terrible. I hate it.
Okay, I don’t (most of the time) and I still have hope (some of the time), but the truth of dating in Manhattan is something that took me a while to admit: being a single gal in this city isn’t easy. But when I first arrived in those black pumps with blind ambition about my career and my love life, I thought I’d be the exception. I thought moving here justified my bravery and my dedication to the city I love and I’d be rewarded with… well, love.
600 blog posts later, I think I’ve proven myself wrong.
If I’m being honest (which I always try to be on this blog), I’ve been kind of lame lately.
My friends would probably agree – especially since they’re always coming up with fun things to do – but this summer, I’ve had so much going on that going out hasn’t really been on the top of my mind.
So maybe that’s why last Saturday night felt a little strange to me.
I was sitting with my new friend (and roommate!), C at a bar seriously lacking men in the West Village on Saturday night, trying to figure out why my stomach was in knots. While I’ve been single the last three years, I have experienced that same night over-and-over again: dinner followed by bar hopping, followed by possible drunken kisses with cute strangers, followed by a late night in and an early morning up, cursing the hangover gods for their cruel intentions.
But last Saturday, something felt different.
The first rule of online dating is to keep your boobs off the internet. The second rule is to never, ever (EVER!) text too much before meeting your match in real life. And maybe don’t commit to dinner with someone you’ve never met offline, either. I learned the latter two lessons after going on what I consider one of the very worst dates in my life (the guy who cried was a bad one too. And the one that blatantly asked if I shaved my you-know-what 20 minutes into drinks—but more on those real winners later).
I connected with Jordan on OkCupid—and his first message to me was uncharacteristically charming. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but it was enough for me to click on his profile and go through the mental checklist I always use to determine if I want to respond or not: