December 23, 2013 by Lindsay Tigar - 5 Comments

Again.

My first winter in New York was my favorite one. I was a few months past 22 and a few years away from being slightly hardened by the city. Then – while I was writing the inaugural posts of this blog – I was captivated by every first that I experienced:

My first time seeing snow in the city. The first time I realized I was falling in love in New York. The first time I went home for the holidays, feeling much more grown-up then I actually was. The first time it really, truly felt like Christmas and magic unfolded all around me.

Even though at the time I was actually rather miserable at my job and fighting off stomach-worry-pains over Mr. P and his fleeting fidelity, and even though I barely made any money post-taxes, there was a gentle happiness that I almost always felt. Because I was still new, because the city still had it’s freshness about it, because I knew there was still so much to accomplish and so much to achieve, so much to enjoy and so much to learn – I didn’t think too far ahead. I didn’t miss anything in my past and I though I wondered what was next, I knew I had time to make mistakes. I still had time to figure it all out and come up with an escape route or an alternative direction if I needed it. I had picked New York and yes, it had picked me right back, but I hadn’t conquered it yet. It didn’t belong to me – I was still it’s visitor, waiting to be accepted, waiting to feel like I was at home.

Three years later, Manhattan is my address. It’s where I’m registered to vote. It’s where my dentist and my dermatologist are. My home is lived in and worn, my dog leaves her paw tracks wherever she goes. My most frequently called friends live no more than a few blocks or subway rides away, and I have memories in almost every neighborhood on the island. I can get from point-A to point-B without a map (most of the time) and I have areas that I almost flat-out refuse to go to (looking at you Murray Hill). I am settled and I feel extremely comfortable on these streets, at my grocery store, at the coffee shop where the barista knows my order and invites me to her birthday party. And this winter, I saw all the sights, yet again – from the shops at Union to the skaters at Rockefeller – and though it wasn’t the same simple happiness I used to feel, it was still something.

Something older, maybe. Something jaded, just a bit. Something… new.

There has been so much change, and yet so very little change this year for me. Though I’ve loved my job, I’ve been aching for new challenges. Though I love my city, I’ve wondered what’s next and what else is out there for me to explore. Though I love my friends, we’re all on different pages and listening to different songs, trying to figure out our own quarter-life crisis without belittling each other’s. Though I love the warmth of the Upper West Side, I long for the excitement (but not the pricetag) of downtown. Though I love most of what I’ve created and discovered here, I’ve felt so incredibly bored most of 2013 that everything felt common, uninteresting, redundant.. and just so not like how it used to.

But I think that just means – finally! – I’ve arrived in New York. It’s actually my home now. My life is firmly cemented here. My roots have started to spread. Because after all of that hard work of moving here, applying wildly for a job, looking widely for a man, smiling pretty and joining clubs to find friends, locating an apartment and saving money since March of 2010…

…I get to do it all over again. And again.

And I’ve been fighting it. Hard. Because it was so much work to build friendships, to meet Mr. Possibility, to get my first job and my second one, to explore a new part of town, to find new groups and new clubs and new things to try. But I was happier when I was open. When I put myself out there and I challenged myself to do something different. When I wasn’t afraid of failure, when I wasn’t terrified that I was running out of time.

Because that is what time is: always circular, always moving, always changing. That’s the part everyone forgets to tell you: your 20s are for learning the good, hard-working skills that you’ll use the rest of your life.

You learn how to make friends so you can enrich the friendships you have, and make new ones as the old ones fall and grow apart. You learn how to find a job so you know how to hire new people, how to keep your current one and how to make a move when the time is right. You learn how to date so you know what you like and what you don’t, with the hope that someone will one day fit your bill. You learn how to cook, manage your money, manage your time, manage your expectations and everything else, so you never forget your independence.

You don’t just learn things once – you keep learning again and again so you can keep growing.

And so, even though this winter isn’t my first and won’t be my last in New York, it’s the first one in my new cycle. My new beginning in the city I fell in love with so long ago. It’s time to go back to where it all began, so I can remember how to move forward. It’s time to find that drive that made me do everything I could to get a step ahead or at least a toe into some door. It’s time to find that energy that was rich and powerful. It’s time to find that softness again that made me see the good in people, and especially in men. Especially in my friends. Especially in me. It’s time to find that beauty in the process, not in the destination.

It’s time to walk away from everything that fell apart, so I can start building an even better tomorrow… again.

November 18, 2013 by Lindsay Tigar - 11 Comments

Something So Very Special

I found myself angry and upset, not sure why I wanted to cry and yet, hoping I didn’t let a single drop out while riding the uptown train on Saturday night to the home that doesn’t feel like one on the Upper West Side. I wasn’t drunk — or I suppose, I’m not drunk, is a better use of words considering I’m writing this at 1: 25 a.m., with every intent of publishing it on Monday.

On my blog, this blog, this very public, yet insanely personal blog that I happen to share with everyone I do and don’t know. This blog that is supposed to be about learning to love myself with or without a man. That’s supposed to be about being totally fine with being totally single, totally fine on my own, not letting men affect me, letting them come and go with their douchebagery-ways, their terribly disappointing manners, their shortcomings that aren’t supposed to matter to me. No matter how many times some man gives me five minutes or two weeks of hope, only to take it away in a second, or by falling off the face of my iPhone.

I was actually supposed to have a date tonight — a second one, which if you’ve read earlier posts you would know are my favorites. Merely because they are often so rare, with so many first dates that bore or well, traumatize you. So when some random guy that happened to be intriguing enough to agree to see again proved to be uncompromising and pretty much only in it for sex, I made plans with K, then met up with J and her guy, and the night went on. I went on – unaffected, perfectly content, not upset that some man couldn’t meet me in the middle, couldn’t get enough energy to make an effort to impress or even see me.

But I was frustrated. I was upset.

Maybe not by this specific man or this specific situation, but that these types of things happen so often that I find myself incredibly exhausted of talking about them. Much less writing about another failed date to share with the world. If I was honest, as I am here on these pages, I’d admit that I don’t want to date. I don’t want to go out on a Saturday night. I don’t want to spend unnecessary money on unnecessary vodka tonics in the hope that my next one will be free. I don’t want to stay out so late and be so tired the next day I can’t go for a run because I held onto the possibility that I’d stumble across someone worth talking to over loud music in a busy, sweaty bar. I don’t really want to do any of it at all.

But I do it anyway.

Because I refuse to give up, because I refuse to become completely bitter or to stop going after what I want. Because I don’t want to listen to everyone who says the best things come when you’re not looking because when are you ever not looking? Because the best dating advice can’t simply be to have fun and let it come, because that feels utterly impossible, month after month, year after year, date after date, date, date.

That can’t be the answer. If there’s any answer at all.

I started writing this blog to not feel just like I feel right now, writing this blog. Hopeless. Annoyed. Angry. Frustrated. Sad. Unworthy. Disappointed. Impatient. I never wanted a lack of a someone to change who I was or to let anyone be so important that they mattered. But maybe that was a pipe dream, something that can’t be ignored because everyone feels that way sometimes, at least anyone who is single post-college in a city.

As I walked myself west while all my friends went east, I did everything I could to hold in the tears. I looked up at the full moon in disgust, cursing it for not bringing the change to my life I so desperately need. I noticed all the tall, thin, gorgeous girls in heels, laughing into the night, so different from me, the not-carefree, unhappy woman struggling down Houston. And as I walked, not making eye contact or slowing down, I saw a store called Something Special.

And I thought of all the fairytales that have undoubtedly made me rather naive. The love stories my mom would tell me, the romance I’ve craved since I knew you could crave such impossible things. I was always promised something special, something fascinating. Something that was unexpected and life-altering. Something intoxicating and breathless. Something so different from the rest.

Something worth all of this waiting.

But when that day comes, or as the cynic in me phrases it, if that day comes, who do I want to be? Do I want to be this desperate, defeated girl? Do I want to be scared and disappointed in every man and frankly, in myself? Do I want this pitiful self-confidence or this pouty attitude around my friends, my family and on this train, angrily typing this blog?

Or do I want to be someone special?

Someone who admitted her failures and yes, handled her emotions as they came, even when they came stupidly and sometimes far too soon. Someone who stood up for herself without letting herself give up in the process? Someone who lived her life instead of waiting on some man to come to build it with? Someone who wanted to cry on a Saturday night it someone who wanted to dance?

If I want something so very special, don’t I need to start believing in and acting like I’m someone special?

October 16, 2013 by Lindsay Tigar - 10 Comments

Are We Talking Ourselves Out of Love?

After a recent encounter of the Canadian (and tall, successful, charming, sexy) kind, I found myself trying to decipher the enigma between the text messages on my phone late Monday night. My faithful friends, readily available to nod thoroughly through the major and minor obsessions, reassured me there wasn’t anything to figure out, that Mr. Maple Leaf was genuinely (perhaps profoundly!) into me. (Spoiler alert: yes, he’s “into me,” but doesn’t want a relationship, the same ole’ song of nearly every man I meet and actually like.)

So in a fit of irritation that flooded an entire Gchat box expanded full screen, I angrily declared – not so eloquently – that men completely, totally suck and that I’m over it. (There may have been a few obligatory curse words for effect and I might have let out an audible mini-scream, too.) After fully executing my adult, 20-something tantrum, I heaved and sighed, attempting to let go of my frustration, when I suddenly felt a wave of regret for what I typed. And for the amount of analysis I put into a guy that – let’s be honest – I’ve seen twice. I re-read my message to R and for whatever reason, I decided to read it out loud. I wanted to hear it outside of my head, away from the fog of obsession, what did it sound like? How did I sound? What language was I speaking about my (mostly non-existent, annoying) dating life?

Apparently, a rather negative, if not (admittedly) pretty annoying one.

My words were drenched in a lot of bad, cliche adjectives and sweeping statements about sour predictions of male intentions. I could hear my distaste and my anxiety, seeping through the sentences, falling out of my mouth and into the universe, in an angry, harsh cloud of smoke. I suddenly felt embarrassed by my compulsion, and especially by my exasperation. Had I really dropped so low that the only thing I could muster is a (incorrect) stereotype about the men of Manhattan (and Brooklyn and Queens…)? Have I adopted –and spread – the rumors that love is a dying idealism in the gray city streets that never sleep, but sleep with everybody? Have I become so disengaged by the dates I’ve had and the caliber of men I find, that not only am I bored, but I’m judgmental and difficult to please?

Who is that girl on Gchat? I surely thought I was better — and maybe older — than that. I thought I was past the phase where I cared about every little thing a guy did or said and I had moved on to the greener pastures, where my give a damn is broken, and my head is held higher than the jerks who aren’t crazy about me.

And if so – maybe that’s my problem. Maybe guys are, well, assholes because I keep saying they are.

My theory that a good one doesn’t come along very often (he doesn’t) and that most guys are in for a good time (but sometimes, so am I?) isn’t too far off base. And the more you fling yourself out into the world of eligibility, the more you get disappointed and frustrated by what’s actually eligible. I understand why my language is uninspired and desperate, but I’m also starting to understand that maybe I’m my own worst enemy. That I might just be the culprit in the dating blame game. I think it’s less in the water we’re drinking in this big ol’ place and more in the dialect we keep speaking in.

I think we’re all talking ourselves out of love.

Not directly of course — if you ask any of my single friends, they all hope for (and put themselves out there for) a chance at a genuine relationship. We all want to meet some guy that proves all of those other dates necessary, one to come along and bring clarity to the trials, one to hold our hand instead of grabbing our ass (except when we want him to, of course). But when we talk about relationships — with the couples or the singles, we all discuss how hard it is. How annoying and patronizing and demeaning it all feels. How we get our hopes up and our spirits high, shave our legs and put on lipstick to snag this imaginary person. How it feels like so much work except when it’s fun and when it’s fun, it feels like it only last so long before it all falls apart, and then we regret the whole thing. We talk about how much we want to give up and how badly it sucks, two (or three or five) years later, to still sleep in a massive bed, all by ourselves, night after night. It’s not a fairytale, we say, it’s a nightmare. And even if everyone tells us that dating should be fun and we should be positive – it stops being enjoyable once history continues o repeat itself.

So, even though I’m the queen of analyzing and obsession and reading in between lines that probably aren’t actually there to begin with, I want to challenge you – and myself – to stop talking about it.

Or at least, to change the way we talk about it. If we change our narrative to be positive, instead of defeating, then maybe we can change the ending. If we can take each date, each possible mate with a grain of salt (no matter how much we think we could like them), and focus on learning about a new person (not a new man) then maybe we’ll gain something more than another horror story to tell our friends at brunch. If we stop preoccupying ourselves with how f***ing long it’s taking to meet our next boyfriend (or husband), and instead think about how truly awesome it’ll feel when it happens, then we might have a little more hope, rather than hate for the process.

Because if I think about it, most of the guys that I’ve went out with haven’t been bad people, I just knew they weren’t a person for me. Or the chemistry was off. And though I don’t truly believe timing is the most important part of a relationship, sometimes, people just aren’t in the right place to give you what you need. And yes, of course, some men are profoundly assholes, no doubt about it.

But if I continue to damn my love life because it’s not shaping out in the way I thought or hoped it would, and thus damning the entire male population that I’m trying to date – then maybe I’m an asshole, too.

September 9, 2013 by Lindsay Tigar - 7 Comments

The 500th Post

It all started in a bathtub.

Almost three years ago when I was fresh off the plane from NC, working at a business magazine, ten pounds heavier and far more naive, I wrote one little blog with the intention of loving myself. I haven’t quite figured it out yet, and at times I slide backwards instead of forward, but these pages and all of the people who have made this blog the open, confessional space it is, have changed my life in more ways than I could have ever predicted.

It’s opened the door to book agents and book proposals, talk shows, panels, conferences and interviews, the chance to reconnect with folks I haven’t spoken to in years and meeting people I wouldn’t have met otherwise. It’s been a safe and loving venue where I can write freely and honestly, letting myself go and forgiving myself with each and every word.

When I say I love this blog, it’s without any hesitation at all.

And I love what it does, or at least what I hope it does. It helps women (and sometimes men) feel a little bit better about being a 20-something. Or about being single. Or about their ex-boyfriend they can’t (for the life of them) get over. Or about failed dates and failed relationships, lost jobs and lost hope. Or about not having their shit together (because none of us do!).

Thank you — each of you — who come back every single time I write something. Thank you for your comments, your emails, your tweets and your likes. You remind me that it’s all okay, that it’s all working out in a magical way, that I’m not alone, that I’m not doing it the wrong way. That I’m just figuring it out, like everyone else. Thank you for your honesty and your kindness, your support and yes, your love. Thank you especially to my friends who not only read every post but live all of the adventures, the trials and the errors with me, every single day. I hope that in the years to come, I’m able to turn this space into something even better – maybe a book. Maybe a movie, should I ever get that lucky. Maybe just an open forum where we can all contribute our confessions. I hope it’ll one day house engagement photos and wedding portraits, pregnancy announcements and a happy, fat baby.

Maybe it’ll just continue to grow with me, day by day, step by step, stage and age by age.

500 posts later — I’m still a self-proclaimed love addict, but at least it’s a (mostly) healthy addiction now. I’m smarter and bolder, braver and more accepting of myself. I still love love, and hope more than anything that it finds me someday, but if it doesn’t, I know I’ll be happy — and loved — no matter what.

In honor of these hundreds of blogs, here are some of my favorite posts and quotes from the last three years. Let there be 500 more!

“Here we go. I’ve got my favorite pair of heels on my feet, my favorite gloss on my lips, my skinny jeans on my body, and my hand in my own hand -telling me it’s okay to go forward.I’m ready to fall in love with myself.” – My Name is Lindsay and I’m a Love Addict, September 19, 2010.

“My New York story is one that’s like many other hopeful artists who grace the streets with only high-heeled bootstraps and raw ambition to be their guide.I’m not alone –there are endless writers, musicians, models, actresses, dancers, and performers who move to Gotham knowing that all they ever wanted will reveal itself before their eyes. The universe, surely, will move and shift to make fate play its magic cards.” –These Streets Will Make You Feel Brand New, October 14, 2010.

“So here is to being me, the beautiful mess and everything. Frankly, when it comes to what I want and who I am, I do give a damn.” – Frankly, I Do Give a Damn, November 8, 2010.

“He really is, for all intents and purposes, a peaceful, easy feeling in my life. Being around him, wrapped up in him, or smelling his smell is not hard and not too scary. Because, I with my blog, and he with his past, have no inclination of how long this union will last. Or where it will go. Or how we will both feel. But for once, I’m okay with not having any idea.” –The Love That Could Be: Mr. Possibility, December 13, 2010.

“…the best thing about being knocked down and falling (either to a heart break or in love), is that you get to be a single gal who stands up, dusts herself off, and struts her way towards something new, confident in the company of herself and knowing that at times she may stumble and she may plummet, but she will never stay down for long.” –A Single Girl Struggles (But Stands), January 11, 2011.

“Maybe, the only relationship we can truly have on our own terms, without compromising or bending the rules or our standards, is the one we have with ourselves. And even that one is also complicated, and is neither exclusive or nonexclusive. Because at times we open up ourselves to possibilities, and other times, we’re completely content with being in only the company of ourselves. But most of the time – we’re somewhere right in between, deciding which turn, which page, which road, to take next. –The Exclusively, Nonexclusive Relationship, January 31, 2011.

“…almost as easily as the storm came, it leaves. Its noise, its electricity, its saturation, and its perfume trail off into a space beyond the Blue Ridge mountaintops you’ve never crossed. It is only then, when the branches rest from their dancing, the daffodils face the sun as it breaks through the clouds, that the real beauty reveals itself.” –And The Storm Will Rise, February 8, 2011.

“A girl, that while she puts on her New York when she wakes up, there is always a little North Carolina in the choices she makes. The world may be my oyster – but I’d like to think I’m some sort of a peal in this city that’s anything but pure.” –Put My New York On, March 12, 2011.

“The apartment started me – it gave me a foundation. And that was its purpose – to be the starter. To ignite me and provide stability, and now with a little more street smarts, a little less liability, and some places to land should I fall, there isn’t a need for a starter. Like most of what brings us joy in our lives, it has its tenure and then we move onto the next thing, to the next dream to tackle, to the new empty space to make into a home.” –The Starter Apartment, May 1, 2011.

“I see skies with scrapers; stars that don’t come out at night. I see the colors of the rainbow in Chelsea, so pretty walking by. I hear taxis cry, I watch them speed, and I realize they’ll see so much more New York than I’ll ever know. And still, I think to myself, what a wonderful world.” –Louie Armstrong Moments, May 18, 2011.

“New York doesn’t make excuses for anything it does and it expects no less or more from its inhabitants, either native, visiting or transplanted. It’s unbearably hot, frigidly cold, entirely unpredictable, and ruthlessly relentless. But us dreamers? We keep coming, one-by-one, and two-by-two, with a few suitcases and singing a duet of ego and fear, determined to be destined to make it here, in New York freakin’ City, the place we were meant to be.” –In An Ordinary Afternoon, July 5, 2011.

“…sometimes, on a lazy Sunday with a pretty big week ahead, it’s refreshing to sit around in your guy’s t-shirt, relaxing and writing just as you love to do, enjoying the company of yourself and looking forward to the person you love to come home. I don’t want to be settled down, but it’s nice to have your heart settled in a moment.” –Playing House, July 31, 2011.

“…you have to believe – in yourself, in your partner and in the relationship. But most of all, you have to believe that sometimes flames start steady and never last, some struggle but end up lighting up the whole room, some are so hot you melt, but burn out quicker than you like, and sometimes, with the right combination of everything, you find a fire that not only keeps you warm, but reminds you why having flames of passion isn’t as important as having trust that it’ll stay lit.” –Trusting the Fire, August 3, 2011.

“This is what New York is like though – right? Love dims when the sun rises over the East river, when corner stores open for business, when everyone orders the everything bagel, when everyone realizes that everything that felt so right last night, doesn’t this morning. Those who come to the city looking for love quickly find it is a glorified Hollywood myth. Love only come to those who withstand the decade of dating disasters in their 20s, only to find a nice, shorter, balding man in their 30s who can provide. They marry him in a rush, have a baby within a year, and then they become part of the stroller brigades of Park Slope and the UWS, causing a whole new generation of 20-somethings to see their happy little family and big bling and think, Sigh, I want that, too.” –In Love In New York, August 31, 2011.

“He chronicled his failures in the way I collected my successes – placed on mental bookshelves, collecting dust and more despair, only to be pulled out in the moments where he needed a reminder of what he was. Or at least, what he thought he was…Sitting across from me, talking about something new that’s causing him grief, I couldn’t shake the certainty I felt that he was stuck somewhere between the guy he’s been the last ten years, the man he hopes to become and the stagnant existence he has now…I’m really afraid of is being stranded in the Land of Impossibility with him.” –Oh, The Impossibilities, September 7, 2011.

“I’ve traded that bathtub for a cab, those tears for a red dress, and that fear of being alone for the option of having something extraordinary. And that hatred for the word “single” into a thankfulness that through it all, I still have just what I’ve always needed: Myself. And of course, a bottle of champagne, some great friends, a heart that’s still beating and believing, and the faith that the best is yet to come. Stay tuned.” –The Best is Yet To Come, September 19, 2011.

“It really had been too long and yet, maybe it was too soon, I concluded as I pushed the 7th floor button. But really, I could never have let Mr. P come between me and him–my New York–for long. Cheap dollar pizza and Bryant Park? My first love has always been this place — and it was time to stop letting memories have anything to do with guys I’ve dated, and let them be about the man, the city, that first stole my heart.” –And Then I Met Him in Bryant Park, November 29, 2011.

“But I have time to see places I want to see. Time to find the parts of me I’ve yet to discover. Time to paint my room before the Spring arrives. Time to learn how to say “love” in every language I find intriguing. Time to put that word to use with men who are worthy of all it entails. And time to let my heart design my space, my intentions and my life. After all, without it, nothing I see around me (or inside of me) would be possible.” –Let My Heart Design, January 19, 2012.

“I’m never quite enough, yet always more than enough to handle. I always have exactly what I need but I want more, though I know, I probably need less. I just want to keep on going – and going – and going.” –It’s Funny That Way, February 24, 2012.

“My heart is like the skyline – something I let shine for others to see, but at the end of the night, when the sun starts to rise and the wounds begin to heal, it opens up, bright and brilliant again, ready for another night, ready for all that’s yet to come.” –My Heart is Like the Skyline, March 4, 2012.

“There are men who will adore all of the things that make you a woman, even when those things bear babies instead of nights of sexual release, even when those things drag instead of rise to occasions. Men who will always remember what you looked like that day you walked toward them in a white gown with glitter on your eyes and the purist of hope in your heart. There are men who truly, honestly, completely will love you. There are so many men out there. But you’ll never meet them if you don’t let go of the guys you really don’t want to find the men you really deserve. The men who are waiting to meet someone just like you.” –There Are Men, April 23, 2012.

“I learned there’s no course to study or class to take. There are many tests but never any measure of success. There are many words to write, but no rubric to follow. There are no answers to any of the questions or a correct bubble to fill in. The choices are endless, but the options seem limited. No matter the experience you endure or the hours you put into studying — there will never be a tried-and-true way to know how to love. –How to Love, June 26, 2012.

“You keep on dating. You keep getting to know people. You try new things. You move on. You keep learning. You keep daring that same dream. You keep hoping for it…because maybe it really is out there. Maybe its over city scapes or the Garden Gate. Over warm countrysides or waiting in the evening’s tide. Maybe it’s over in the next cart or just anticipating when it’ll start. Or maybe it’s just across the room or in places new, places you knew. Or it could just be inside of you. And that dream you dared to dream, awaits, for someone like you. Because if bluebirds can fly, if strangers can find each other, if so many before me can fall in love with the right man, why, oh why, can’t I? Why, oh why, can’t you?” –Why, Oh Why, Can’t I?, July 18, 2012.

“My rape was legitimate. It was painful – emotionally and physically and personally. If only for a few moments, it took away something that belongs to me:my choice. My choice to make love or to have sex or to do everything-but. It took away my choice to let a man inside of me. It took away my choice to ask for more and to tell someone to slow down. It took away a piece of me that I’ll never get back. But it also did something else for me: it helped make me a fighter.” –My Rape Was Legitimate, August 22, 2012.

“Not everyone has the luxury of their exes going to Singapore and France for a year. But I do.” – Happy After Him, August 27, 2012.

“So many days I’ve lived, so many days I’ve done nothing but hope. They’ve come and gone, like the men I’ve known, and there will be more. There will probably be many more. But one very fine day — I don’t know how far away from now — will finally be my one day.” –One Fine Day, January 3, 2013.

“I wondered if I would become anther listless writer, another hopeless dreamer who lost her way somewhere between New Jersey and Queens. I didn’t know if I could convince someone to give me a chance or if I could even survive on the minimal salary that I knew would come with my very first big girl job. But I did believe I should try. Even if failed to a disappointing demise and had to tuck my Tigar tail and catch a flight to the bittersweet Carolina, I knew I had to give it a go. Remorse I could live with, regret I could not.” –So Very Worth It, February 27, 2013.

“I kind of love it when it rains in New York. The glistening of the buildings. The sound of the droplets on the roof or the window. The sparkle on the street. The sound of kids splashing in the puddles and the sight of couples canoodling to stay dry. The best part of rain in the city is what’s so great about New York itself: after the storm passes — whatever it may be — everything that was bad or grimy or unsure from before is washed away. And what’s left is up to you create. You just have to decide if you can put up with a little rain to get there.” –I Love It When It Rains in New York, March 14, 2013.

“Then, on an unusually windy April afternoon, as I walk to pick up a latte after another less-than-interesting Saturday night, I’ll see an elderly man shushing the oncoming cars and taxis as his wife shuffles along with a walker. It’ll take two traffic rotations for her to make it across, but he just tells her to take her time. She’ll be wearing red lipstick and he’ll reach over to make sure she can make it up the sidewalk, and I’ll be standing right there, watching it all unfold in literally, slow motion. Then I’ll smile. And I’ll think of you, whoever you are, wherever you might be. And I’ll pray that you’ll make your way to me soon because I’d rather walk these streets alone than to meet someone who isn’t you.” –I Thought of You Today, April 22, 2013.

“You would miss the part where something hits you — probably in the middle of an ordinary day — and you realize that blueprint doesn’t fit you anymore. And that no plan really does at all. Maybe it never did to begin with. Because finally, after fighting the should-be’s and the could-be’s and the supposed-to’s and all the pressuring words that did nothing but haunt you, you have found yourself released from the language. You’ve found yourself free from the scam — I mean, the plan — and happily ever after without a clue of what’s next. And you know — or at the very least, you hope — it’s going to work out in a way that no pencil, no high school paper, no fortune teller, no anyone or anything could have ever predicted.” –The Five Year Scam, June 11, 2013.

August 19, 2013 by Lindsay Tigar - 9 Comments

These Years of Freedom

Almost three years ago, I wrote a blog about a date with freedom.

I still remember that day vividly, and in my memories of moving to NYC and making it feel like home here, it’s one of those experiences that stands out. At the time, I was severely unhappy at my job at the business mag, friends with Mr. P (whom I called Mr. Unavailable) but making out with him on occasion, still talking to my ex, Mr. Idea, worried about developing friendships, a tad bit freaked out by my Harlem address, and attempting to write a blog about learning to love being single.

Three years later – I’m in a totally different place. My life has changed in ways I could have never predicted. And in ways that I didn’t know or didn’t really see until this weekend.

Friday was my last summer Friday (media folks get days off when the weather is nice because we spend endless amounts of time glued to the computer), and I made up my mind that not only would it be productive, but it’d be a day just for me. I woke up around nine, grabbed a coffee and the pup, and read in the dog park while she played for an hour, followed by a much-needed jog in the park. Then I walked from my apartment to the Jacqueline Onassis Reservoir to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I had been craving some Monet and O’Keeffe, plus they had a Civil Rights Photography exhibit I’ve heard rave reviews about. To top off the afternoon, I headed to literally the top of the museum, where the rooftop view is arguably one of the best in the entire city. I drank a glass of white wine slowly, thoroughly enjoying it to soak up the last of the August sun before heading back across to the west side, only stopping for 30 minutes for a power nap on the Great Lawn.

It wasn’t until I was riding the bus to my friend J’s apartment for a girl’s night out a few hours later that I realized my date with freedom three years ago seemed like such a big deal, such a huge stepping stone in my journey and in this blog, and “my date” today — which was quite similar — didn’t feel like anything important, at all.

Instead, it was just life.

My life as a single girl in New York City. Where on any given day, each and every choice is based on what I want. What I’m in the mood for. Whatever time I want to get out of bed or however long I want to run or hang out in the park. Whatever amount of money I want to spend or save, whomever I want to accept a drink from – or an invitation to dance – at the bar on any night I decide to go out. There are not grocery lists or budgets that I make with anyone else or decisions that require consultation. I can spend Thanksgiving in Paris or Rome if the mood strikes, or take a trip with another single gal to the Caribbean just because I’d like to. I have zero rules and only a few commitments and responsibilities that are part of my everyday routine. However long or short this anti-relationship status might be, it will be the only stretch of time when I can be as selfish and stubborn as I’d like. It’ll be the only time I’m this independent, this self-sufficient, this… alive on my own.

After so many heartbreaks and road blocks and experiences, I’ve learned that I’m not dating freedom — instead, I’m just free.

As much time (and energy and heart) that I’ve spent wanting, aching and hoping for love, I’ve forgotten just how much I do love this independence. Even though most single women fear being sentenced to bad (and worse sex) forever, there is something quite special about being a 20-something that hasn’t settled down yet. It’s easy to take it for granted, especially when you’d trade in a night in with the dog for a night in with a man, but if the last three years are any indicator of how quickly life can change, then it’s time to start cherishing these precious moments. And savoring them. Indulging in time and travel alone, trips to the museum and drinks for one outside underneath the street lights and siren sounds. Because there will be a moment when I look back at weekends like this past one — where I spent every second really, truly letting go and letting life fly — and miss these days.

When I look back at brunch in the park with the family that I’ve made in this beautiful city and remember when we were all taking it day by day. When we didn’t have to think past 5 p.m., where Saturday was simply spent laying in the sun and drifting to sleep to the sound of your best friend’s laughter. When our dogs (and maybe our mimosas) felt like our babies. When we worried about so many silly things that won’t mean anything in just a few years. In such a short period of time that we can’t even imagine it right now.

There will be a time when I remember what it was like to be free — and hopefully when I do, I’ll be proud that I soaked it up for all it was worth. I hope I’ll remember that I did what everyone should do: really, truly live as wildly, as beautifully as I can.

I hope I remember being almost-25 and taking so much time and investing so much love… into these years of being… free.

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