I really (really) liked David.
I was a 19-year-old, wide-eyed, excited kid that immensely enjoyed the attention from an older (by um, two years?) guy who wanted to wine-and-dine me. (Mostly from his apartment, since I couldn’t, you know, order a glass without being carded in my quiet, sleepy college town.) He was an engineering major with a big passion to design skyscrapers (and I wanted to live in NYC, it was fate!), and though his room was messy and his shirts smelled like mildew, after two dates, I was pretty much smitten.
Over cocktails and appetizers with a friend of mine recently, she caught me up on her current dating life. She’s been seeing a dude for about six months, they go on dates (and sleep over) a few times a week, he’s introduced her to all of his friends, they’ve discussed going on vacation together early next year and she feels like she’s (maybe, kinda, definitely) falling in love with him
So, he’s your boyfriend then?! I asked, excitedly. That’s great!! You’ve been single for a while now!
Oh, no, we’re not like, official, official, she said, taking a quite large sip of wine. We’re seeing each other. And I think we’re only sleeping with one another.
It’s hard to believe that Confessions of a Love Addict is four years old today.
I get those damn butterflies in my stomach every single time I think of how far this blog has come in the past few years. And my heart feels like it’s about to burst when I think of how blessed I am that you all come back to read my thoughts, hear about my adventures and stick with me through any breakup, job change or difficult time.
I know I’ve thanked you before, but let me do it again:
A year ago today, I turned 25.
Truth be told, I didn’t want to be the big 2-5. In fact, the whole idea of being in my mid-twenties really freaked me out. There was something ominous about making the transition from fresh-out-of-college to real-life adulthood. Sure, I have been on my own for years, but when you’re a quarter of a century, it somehow seems way more serious than it did before.
But I really didn’t have a damn thing to worry about – 25 was (by far) my best year yet. So much so, that as I turn 26 today at 2:14 p.m., I’m secretly wishing that I could stay 25 forever.
This time last year, I was having a minor panic attack in the bathroom of a lounge in Flat Iron.
I was a little tipsy and my friend J was trying to calm me down, but there was no getting around my anxiety.
Do you see what I have to put up with out there? Dating SUCKS. It’s seriously the WORST. I tell you J, if I’m single this time next year, I will leave New York. I will go somewhere where it’s better and the guys are better. Seriously, it can’t be THIS bad everywhere.
A month after I started my blog in 2010, I took the bus from JFK into the city. As I got on the bus in my Jessica Simpson slingbacks (ridiculous, I know), the driver took zero pity on me and took off. I went crashing with my bag and my floppy hat right into the aisle. I looked up and locked eyes with a blue-eyed hunk who simply asked, “You alright?” before helping me to my feet.
I didn’t know it then, but that was the day I met my very first New York love, Scott.
This post is part of the Ask the Addict advice column. Learn more about submitting your (anonymous!) question here.
My older cousin is getting married and invited me with a plus one. The thing is, I’m single so there’s no significant other to bring. I was thinking of bringing a girlfriend along but after thinking a while, I really feel like going without a date… would that be weird though? Is it fun to go alone to a wedding?