If we’ve learned one thing from Manhattan-based sitcoms, it’s that living and dating in the city presents a unique set of problems. You have no time. You have no money. You have all your teeth, but–though this may have given you a leg up in Tennessee–it means nothing when you’re surrounded by actual models. You need at least two more roommates to make your rent, and those bedbugs that came with the apartment don’t count. Charles Shaw has replaced Ben & Jerry as the man in your life because “Two Buck Chuck” is the fiscally responsible choice when a pint of Cherry Garcia costs $7 at the convenience store on your block. And if you drink enough wine it tastes like love. Continue reading
Alternate title: Snow Diggity
28: Hours since Mayor de Blasio declared a Winter Weather Emergency in New York City.
85 million: People in the path of Blizzard Jonas.
30: Inches of snow predicted in southern New York.
26.8: Actual inches of snowfall in Manhattan.
16: Emergency alerts on my phone from Notify NYC.
11: Texts from my grandmother asking if I’m alive.
500: People in line at Trader Joe’s on Friday night.
4: Free scones the guy at the coffee shop by my apartment gave me since they were closing early.
5: Minutes it took to regain feeling in my fingers after writing this. Continue reading
Last weekend I had a friend over for
a glass two bottles of wine in my new apartment. We discussed the oddities of being twentysomethings; how weird it is that people we know are having babies ON PURPOSE; the perils of being fat and broke, which–in the scheme of things–neither of us is; and recent dates we’ve been on…or lack there of. Taking advantage of the opportunity to show off what a cool, open-minded New Yorker I am, I said that I had just created a profile on Tinder. “Tinder?” she responded, in a tone that I can only describe as “What is this, 2014?” I might as well have said, “I still pull my hair through a cap, and tomorrow I’m getting my first diaphragm!”
There I was, thinking I was this modern woman, when really I was your grandfather who still mail orders two DVDs from Netflix every week because he doesn’t know about online streaming.
I’m sort of kidding. I didn’t really believe Tinder was a hot new way of meeting Mr. Right, or Mr. Right Now, or experimenting, or whatever I’m supposed to be doing at this point in my life. But I did think it was still relevant.
Warning: this post is not for the faint of heart (or for the easily-annoyed-by-white-girls-complaining).
Did you know that en français, “mouse” and “smile” are the same word? Yeah, if you wanted to say, “You smile at the mouse,” it would be, “Tu souris à la souris.” Except you don’t smile at the mouse. You scream and throw shoes at the mouse. Continue reading
Since arriving in New York, my days have been packed. It’s cool that I get to travel for work, but getting off a train from New Jersey at 10:30 pm doesn’t leave a lot of time for health and wellness. You know what they say: when the going gets tough, the tough get fat. Plus it’s easier not to eat when you get home when you’re not going home alone, and since
Leonardo DiCaprio still hasn’t noticed me my man’s far away in Tennessee, I’ve fallen into the habit of thinking, “My diet starts tomorrow.” Absence makes the butt grow fatter.
Given the surplus of #SingleGirlProblems on Twitter, the internet’s overwhelming obsession with cats, and the fact that wine ice cream even exists, it’s pretty clear that the world is made up of single ladies (cue Beyoncé). If you feel like Johnny Lee circa 1980 and are lookin’ for love in all the wrong places, maybe it’s time you tried a little TLC: Tinder Loving Care. Continue reading