Recently, while sitting in the kitchen as a friend helped me dye my hair, the topic turned to death. We had both experienced close friends dying in our early twenties, and we were discussing how we dealt with it. I sat facing away from her, as she checked the foils on my hair. “I just have to think that they are in a better place, in heaven,” she said.
I thought about those words for a minute. Then I replied, “For me, it soothes me to know there is no after-life. Like, there is completion in it. They are gone, that was their life, and it’s okay. I don’t have to worry about seeing them again. It’s been helpful to really process their death and know they are gone.”
My friend was intrigued. “I’d never thought about it that way,” she said.
The truth was I hadn’t always either. I identify as an atheist now. But I haven’t always. Keep reading »
Most people have encountered a crazy ex-girlfriend in some form, a being to be pitied and scorned. It was frightening how easy it was to find myself, normally a level-headed, rational woman, turning into one. Keep reading »
When I was in my late 20s, I had a crush on a guy I worked with. He was tall and preppy, and looked like he’d stepped out of a J. Crew catalog. Every Monday morning I’d skip down the aisle, lean on the wall of his cubicle, and ask him how his weekend was, and he’d tell me about the restaurant he went to or the movie he saw.
He loved music, and I thought I could love him, so I invited him to see my friend and her band rehearse one night. She was an incredible up-and-coming singer who had the same manager as Alicia Keys, and my crush was thrilled to get to go to her rehearsal.
Afterwards, we stopped at his apartment. I took my Joss Stone CD out of my knapsack. “I think you’ll like this,” I said, handing it to him. He put it in his stereo, turned up the music, and turned off the lights.
Keep reading »
I never thought it would get this serious. First it was an after-work thing. Then it was weekends. Eventually we were seeing each other anytime I had two hours to spare. This is the story of how I fell in love with Netflix. Keep reading »
About a month ago I was standing in a sandwich shop near my office and my mind went to the place it usually does, which is wondering what I would do if Ex-Mr. Jessica walked in. His office is only 10 blocks away from my own, so there is a very real possibility we may run into each other by accident sometime. I looked at the men dressed the same way he would dress — glasses, dress shirt, slacks, an iPod — and imagined him walking in.
And then I realized I wouldn’t have cared. I could nod my head at him and ignore him. I could even muster a small smile and a “hi.” In the day’s experiences, it would register as “whatever.”
And that release felt huge. Keep reading »
I was having dinner with my friend Ryan* last week. He was telling me about a “really good date” he went on.
“So when are you going to see her again?” I asked.
“I’m not,” he replied very matter-of-factly. “She has a kid.”
I almost smacked him with my breadstick. Of all the unfair reasons to not to give someone a chance, that seemed the stupidest of all to me. If she had a crack habit, smelled like soup, or had long armpit hair, I would have understood. But a child? Keep reading »