I never know the right way to accept or decline the offer, so I usually just nod and smile, remember my Southern social graces and allow my number to be passed on. My mentality is usually, hey, if he makes a move, I’ll go out with him. It can’t hurt to add another one to the long list of could-be boyfriends, right? So when I heard from Luke only 12 hours after this friend-of-a-friend sang my praises, I was pleasantly surprised to learn—via text—that he was actually…kind of awesome?
There are some things that really suck about being single. But then there are some awesome benefits of flying solo. When I start thinking about how annoying it is to go on bad date after bad date, wishing for my single days to end already and wondering where the hell is this guy I’m apparently going to end up with… I remember all of the reasons I actually love being single.
Here are just a few… (add your own in the comments!)…
1- Peanut butter and popcorn for dinner? Occasional glass(es) of wine with hummus, carrots and a hard-boiled eggs because I just want it instead of cooking? Grub from the food truck late at night? Ain’t nobody that’ll be laying next to me… so…
I almost always cancel on first dates these days.
Not because I don’t want to go per se – but because the anticipation is almost always more intense than the actual experience. In the age of Tinder, Hinge, OkCupid, Match, eHarmony, JDate, HowAboutWe, Plenty of Fish, Christian Mingle, Stir, Chemistry, Nerve, Sparkology – and on and on and on – before you ever meet someone, you’ve spent so much time communicating with them, you feel like you know them.
But you don’t.
I’m so excited to announce my new weekly dating column for WomensHealthMag.com. Check out my first post below!
I’ll never forget my first date in New York City.
I was 19 years old and interning at a women’s magazine, living in my college’s loft at 24th and Park for the summer. I had imagined myself much more mature than I actually was, and because my fake ID (sorry mom and dad!) said that I was 21, I spent a lot of time at bars post-interning hours. It was at some bar in Murray Hill that I met Joseph—a 28-year-old finance guy.
I know how hard it is to stay hopeful about dating- especially when everything… and I mean everything that you think could be something turns out to be another disappointment. While it can be easier to give up on love – and on yourself – if you remember to love the place you’re at in your life (and all of those wonderful places you’re going that you can’t even see yet) – you’ll be surprised at just how much will come your way.
But if you need a reminder – say every day – sign up for my new email newsletter that’ll be sent Monday through Friday. It’ll have a quote, a few links and a whole lotta love. I promise not to spam you – just to inspire you!
Sign up here and tell me what you’d like to see see in the email in the comments!
I’ve almost lived in New York City for four years now. The time has gone both indefinitely slow and intolerably fast, and while I knew this place would always be one big adventure for me, I never knew just what a wild ride it would turn out to be.
And maybe, since it felt like such a vivid, unattainable dream, I didn’t fully expect it to feel quite so much… like home. But it does. I’ve called the Upper West Side (or Morningside Heights, if we want to get super technical) my neighborhood for my entire time in this city.
But as I type this sentence, I’m laying on my bed from Ikea, waiting on my friend J to meet me for dinner, looking at all of my things packed in 8 (very heavy) boxes, my bookshelves and dresser empty, the room that I had decorated with frames and sentiments bare – all of it, ready to move downtown on Saturday. I always hoped the day would come when I made enough money to have an uptown commute to work instead of a downtown one – and it has.
A month ago, I was sitting at a place I didn’t want to be at in Murray hill, drinking wine I didn’t want to drink, waiting on a man I didn’t know if I wanted to date.
I was passing time and nursing my one glass because I didn’t want to leave the place and be forced to sit outside his building where Lucy would die of thirst. Mr. Unexpected had some sort of test that night and Lucy had a grooming appointment the next morning a few blocks from his apartment, so it made sense that I would sleep over… but as I tried my best not to obsess over when he would text that he was out, I wondered what the hell I was doing.
On paper and mostly in person, Mr. Unexpected and I really connected. The sex was great. He made me laugh. He was honest. The chemistry was there but there was also a big ole’ thing missing that I knew, he knew and probably even Lucy knew if we had a way of asking her. I couldn’t put it into words then, but a month later after a weekend of silence to “clear our heads” and “decide what we both wanted,” I found myself sitting across from yet another man who couldn’t give me what I wanted.
But there was one big difference in this mini relationship – and that was me.