I am the only person in my friend group not in a relationship, a swinging single floating in the midst of the happily coupled. Nights out are often curtailed early. Someone’s boyfriend is tired, someone else’s boyfriend has the stomach flu. One couple stayed out too late and now has to go home to rest their eyes and watch DVR’ed episodes of “Orphan Black,” together, natch.
Hanging out with couples used to make me uncomfortable. I never knew what to do when their tiny domestic disputes were laid bare in front of me at the bar. One of the most uncomfortable brunches I have ever encountered was before Christmas, with my best friend and his boyfriend. I pushed a pile of Eggs Benedict around my plate as they exchanged carefully shrouded barbs about present exchanges and quality time before the holidays. I left them standing quietly on the street in front of the restaurant, speaking in hushed tones about what to do next. Keep reading »
I used to work with someone who was smart, funny, a little goofy, and relatively handsome. From his first day, I could tell that we were going to get along. Sure enough, after a few weeks, we had a routine. We smoked a morning cigarette together and discussed weekend plans. We stood next to each other at work-mandated happy hours and drank bourbon, gossiping under our breath. If I was having a horrible day, he could tell from the timbre of my typing. We were inseparable during the workday, always there for each other, able to communicate complex sentences and emotions in a few words and a glance. After a while, I told him everything — doubts about my career path, complaints about the person I was dating, and he reciprocated in kind. From the outside, it would seem that we had been dating for years. Our interactions were marked with the easy-going nature that the best relationships have. We settled into a pattern that sustained throughout the entire time we worked together. It was the easiest relationship I had ever had. Keep reading »
A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting on a roof deck with two friends, enjoying the first rays of the pre-summer sun and drinking a beer when I looked up in the sky and saw someone’s life change. A skywriter was doggedly etching a message out into the cloudless blue expanse. We paused our conversation to watch the words form. We didn’t see the name, but the words “Will You Marry Me?” hovered against the blue for a few minutes until they eventually vanished.
“Did that really happen?” my friend asked.
I shrugged. “It’s probably an ad for something,” I said. “Who actually does that?”
Later, through the power of the internet, I found out that the stunt that half of Williamsburg had seen that Sunday wasn’t an insidious marketing campaign for a summer rom-com. It was a real proposal, with a happy ending (spoiler alert: she said yes). I’m sure this couple will be very happy together, and I wish them the best, but the mortification I felt at the notion of the public proposal cannot be denied. Keep reading »
My first experience with Tinder was on the patio of my favorite bar one night last summer, sitting with friend. “You have to try this app,” she told me. “You’re gonna love it.”
I was out of a relationship, not interested in dating, but needed some sort of nudge to get me back in the game, any game, lest I die alone in an apartment surrounded by empty cans of cat food and back issues of Us Weekly. Tinder seemed to be the trick, and at first, I was fascinated. Technology is truly a wonder. I had my pick of whatever Williamsburg had to offer — the good, the bad, the eye roll-y. What a world! Keep reading »
The long cold winter of our discontent has finally started to ease its grip on most of the country. If you live on the East Coast, you’ve most likely been buried in a never-ending pile of snow and frigid weather, seemingly doomed to spend the rest of your life mouldering in your abode, turning as pale and sour as spoiled milk. The past couple of weeks have seen the resurgence of something beautiful — warm weather! Flowers are blooming, the trees are heavy with blossoms, and when you leave work, it’s still light out and the air smells like the promise of short shorts, the beach and exposing your toes — and your winter-hardened heart — to the light. And what’s that in the distance? Ahh yes, a spring fling is on the horizon. Keep reading »
Part of the fun of starting a relationship is the shared discovery of the things that make you tick as a unit. Establishing a Sunday routine, dedicating a night to each other to stay in and watch shitty movies on Netflix — this is what keeps the engine of your coupledom running smoothly. The more comfortable you get, the more likely you are to fall into established, cozy patterns. Take the pet name, one of the more revealing aspects of your life together. What you decide to call your person in public or in private speaks volumes about your relationship, but there are so many to choose from, it’s hard to say what works and what doesn’t. I used to call my ex-boyfriend “boo,” and was fine with it until one Christmas at his parents house, when I discovered that that was what his mother called him — suddenly, “boo” was weirdly inappropriate. You want to choose the right pet name, one that’s appropriate for the place your relationship is at. I’m here to help. Read on for a field guide to relationship pet names. Keep reading »