Except instead of a home-cooked meal on the table, it’s take-out chinese on the table. And instead of two glasses on the table, it’s one glass on the table. But it’s not really a glass on the table, it’s a solo cup filled with wine on the table. And it’s not a table. It’s a foot stool.
This is New York, guys.
Sometimes you have to find the little things in life to be grateful for.
Like the fact that I made it to age 33 having never encountered the term “little balloon knot.”
Or the fact that 15 minutes was spent sitting with my professional, educated colleagues debating the meaning of this term.
(For those of you wondering*, it’s an asshole)
*Mom and Dad
Guys, this really weird thing happened where I went on a date last night, had a nice time, and then I heard from him TODAY. Not a week later, not EXACTLY 3 days later, not by accident because he meant to text a different Emily, not the next time he was drunk/stoned/watching porn. The NEXT day. Sober. While the sun was still up.
What do you think that means?
Oh, that he’s a mature 30-something male in Manhattan?
Well. This is new.
Yesterday, while recounting the absurd, insulting, and downright disgusting interactions I have had on dating apps, a married friend said to me “I just LOVE living vicariously through my single friends’ stories!”
Here’s the thing, married people. We know you don’t actually mean any harm by this. But when you say such things, this is what we single people hear:
“Your life, much like a horror movie, is entertainment for me.
Seriously, I wish I had a tub of popcorn and some snowcaps. Maybe a coke.
Also, much like a horror movie, I am grateful it is not MY life. (For real. Thank. GOD.)
In fact, MOST like a horror movie, afterwards it makes me appreciate the safe, comfortable life I do have.
What I’m saying, in case I wasn’t clear, is that your life is essentially a gory, terrifying Stephen King film.
I’m sorry you’re the aging star of it.
It’s fun for ME, though.”
Then you laugh maniacally, hop in your diamond car, and drive home to your house made of Godiva, where your white-tux-clad husband is waiting for you with champagne and a foot rub.
Oh. Real = sit on my face? Glad we cleared that up.
I have a first date tonight (FRIDAY night) with a guy who has the same name as my favorite Friday Night Lights character.
So the question is, should I go out and purchase a Dillon Panthers jersey for the occasion?
Jk guys. I’m not that far gone.
I’m going to wear one of the two I already own.
At sibling dinner, explaining a situation (from a while ago) when he ended things with a girl he was seeing.
Jeremy: “Well, we weren’t really in a RELATIONSHIP, so it’s not like I went over there to break up with her. I just went to say goodbye.” (long pause) “Forever.”
At sibling dinner, debating what is/is not “slutty” behavior as a single adult.
Me: “Well you know what they say, you have to sleep with a lot of frogs…”
Zack: “I’m pretty sure it’s ‘you have to kiss a lot of frogs.'”
Oh.
Well this changes everything.
Sometimes I get the old, “I’m going to die all alone” blues. Nothing dire or overly dramatic. Really.
They usually happen on Sunday. So, like….today.
I texted a female friend with this concern, and her response:
Then a male friend:
I’m not gonna lie– the male friend snapped me out of it.
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