In October of last year, with my mouth full of tortilla chips and tequila on my brain, I was talking about how long I’ve lived in New York, when my friend Erin interrupted me, “Linds, it won’t be four years in March that you’ve lived here. It’ll be five years!”
In that moment – and frankly, in this one – I was in disbelief that half of a decade has passed since those black Target pumps marched out of JFK into what, at the time, seemed like the start of everything.
I didn’t know it then – but it really was. March 14, 2010 was the beginning of what has become not a journey or a roller coaster, not a blog post or a story, not some romantic comedy or book that’s yet to be published… but the start of my adult life.
My first birthday in New York, before I started this blog a few days later. With Erin.
As I sat down to write this post, highlighting some profound lesson from many lessons and experiences in Manhattan (and Brooklyn and Queens), I kept coming up short. Every other year, I had a clear picture of what I wanted to write about: what it means to be a New Yorker, how the rain has followed all of my prized moments, how I almost gave up on New York (and myself) but didn’t, my own version of ‘Oh, the Places You’ll Go’ – but this year…
…I drew one hell of a big blank. Continue reading
For most of my childhood, I was bummed about being an only child. It was tough as a kid seeing all of my friends with siblings, and even when they complained about having to share, a part of me envied them for having a partner in crime. It wasn’t until I was older that I truly realized the special pros and cons of being an only child. Here’s just a few:
1. We’re very decisive.
I can’t speak for all only children but I was raised to be very self-reliant. From a young age, my parents forced me to make choices. Even as simple as “Choose between these outfits” in elementary school; they wanted me to be able to choose things for myself. Now, I know exactly what I want and I’m not afraid to ask for it. Nothing turns me off more than an indecisive guy. Continue reading
I really hate being compared to Carrie Bradshaw, but I’m starting to come to terms with it. We might live in apartments the size of her closet and I might be looking in the windows of Jimmy Choo instead of shopping there – but she got one thing right: there is love in New York.
And for a while, we all believed it – at least the six years that Sex & the City was on – but somewhere between The Bachelor and everyone joining Tinder, we got lost.
I know I definitely did. I moved here with a few bags, full of my clothes, my hopes, my minimal savings and my one pair of fuck-me heels (from Target, thank you very much). I didn’t have an apartment or a job when I landed at JFK – but I knew everything would fall into place because I had faith. And a hell of lot of blind ambition.
You know the scene: You’re at a bar with your gals on a Friday night and a drunken weirdo won’t stop hitting on you hardcore, even though you’ve made it very clear you’re not interested. For many ladies, the ‘I have a boyfriend!’ white lie is an easy escape tactic. But guess what? It doesn’t have to be a white lie anymore! With InvisibleBoyfriend.com, you can create a magical fake boyfriend that sends you text messages, leaves you voicemails, and gives you all the (fake) validation you could ever want. Obviously, I had to try it. Continue reading
Last week, I wrote a blog about things I’m embarrassed to tell my future husband. Much to my surprise, it went viral! I couldn’t believe all of the folks reaching out about the things I crave from someone – words of affirmation, lots of great sex, asking my dad for my hand in marriage – saying they wanted the same qualities.
In response to my list, Keith Dent, a blogger and marriage coach (and hubby with three kids) wrote what he needed from his wife. If you’re anything like me, this list just might bring ya to tears (I mean, c’mon, read #9 in my needs!).
Enjoy ladies, here’s a letter from your future hubby:
As your future husband, it was very refreshing to read your story before we met. I don’t meet too many women who are open an honest with their feelings.
I hope you don’t overlook me because I’m not that tall, dark and handsome guy that you always seem to notice. I’m on the sensitive side, but I know that when we meet our chemistry will be instantaneous.
Before we meet and start to make wedding plans, there is one thing you must know. I will have fears too. Not right away, but they will develop much later in our marriage. Continue reading
On my flight that was supposed to be six hours, but took nearly eight, I thought about the dates I’ve been on in the last few months…
-There was the one with the guy who told me there was no way I could write as much as he does every day, though he only writes two pages a day (Ha! Try at least 4 articles a day!)
-There was the one that I really liked – he was my very first Match date – but once he found out that I was a love writer, he never talked to me again.
-There was the one where the first date was great, but the second date was so strange that I couldn’t remember why I was attracted to him to begin with. Continue reading
The streets of Copenhagen were full of lights – tiny, sparkling, circular spots that led the way through the colorful town. They were meant to guide the bike riders through the night, but in my red wine haze, I excitedly told James, my dear (and cheeky) British bestie: People say that New York’s streets sparkle, but these really do!
He rolled his eyes at me and took another puff of his cigarette as I rushed ahead to match his quick pace, hooking his arm to slow him down. We had just finished a three-course Valentine’s dinner, along with celebratory champagne and a bottle of wine, and we were making our way back to our hotel to drop off the rose I found along the way. Do you think someone lost it? I asked James with concern, to which he said: No, I put it there for you. Take it, silly!
I was twirling it around in my hand, slowly picking off the thorns so they wouldn’t prick me when we stumbled across a store window that caught our eye: