When I was 16, I was an exchange student to Japan. There were a lot of incredible things that transpired on that trip, such as – I lived with a Buddhist Priest and his family in a house attached to the temple, got to attend a Japanese high school and, since my small fishing town did not get a lot of visitors, people took my picture everywhere I went, chanted my name when I entered a room and strangers gave me presents. It was like I was Britney Spears. Continue reading Beware of the Wordsmith. Part Three.
Tag Archives: Upper East Side
Come for the Chicks, Stay for the Wings.
“It was so great to see you guys,” I said, as I pulled my sleeping-bag jacket firmly around me. Everyone hates this jacket because it’s totally unflattering, (“Boxy,” Sheri has decreed). But I like it because it’s long enough that if I wear tall boots, no one can tell I’m wearing my pajamas while I run errands around the neighborhood.
“You too, girlie,” Thalia said. She zipped up her own coat. Cold weather had officially settled in NYC.
“If I don’t talk to you ladies beforehand, have a great Thanksgiving,” said Sean. I moved in to give him a hug and he hugged me back tightly.
Thalia, Sean and I had met for our usual two-month catch up session. Normally, we meet on a Saturday evening at my place so I can wow them with my culinary skills with such menu-dazzlers as, ‘Make-Your-Own-Taco-Bar’ or ‘Make-Your-Own-Burrito-Bar’ or, if I am feeling especially creative, ‘Make-Your-Own-Taco-Salad-Bar IN A TACO SHELL BOWL.’ But since it was almost the holidays and everyone was busy, we decided to meet on a Tuesday. Which meant Hooters. Continue reading Come for the Chicks, Stay for the Wings.
IF YOU ARE NEW TO THE BLOG, START HERE: When One Door Closes, Another One Opens. Even If You Have to Kick It Down.
“You’re too pretty.”
“You intimidate men.”
“Your online dating profile is too long, it makes you look crazy.”
“You look down too much when you walk.”
“You don’t get out enough.”
“You have your headphones in when you’re on the subway.”
“You come across as a bitch when people first meet you.”
“New York City is a hard place to meet someone.”
“You just haven’t found the person who will accept your flaws.”
“You don’t say ‘hi’ to strangers.”
“You don’t try hard enough.”
“You have a cat. It makes it look like you’ve given up.”
“You don’t show enough cleavage.”
These are the reasons people have given me for why I am still single at 42. As each of my friends have paired off over the past decades, I’ve often wondered why it really is that I am still single. It certainly wasn’t what I’d hoped for or planned. What was I doing wrong? I have my own list of why I think I’m still single. It is:
I never meet anyone my own age.
I hate shopping so my wardrobe is still stuck in 1995.
I would rather be home watching Investigation ID than go out.
I need to lose 10 pounds.
I have a compulsion to drunk-text.
I know nothing about music.
I can’t cook. I smoke cigarettes.
I’m an over-sharer.
I talk too much and too loudly.
I always look tired because I have insomnia. Or I’m hungover.
I’m too needy.
I’m too pale.
I have a cat. It makes it look like I’ve given up.
I don’t show enough cleavage.
I recently reconnected with my high school boyfriend. I hadn’t talked to him in 14 years but I can say honestly, he’d never been far from my mind. I’d always loved him. When we got back together six months ago, I said to myself, “This is why I’ve been single for so long! High School Sweethearts Reunited! What a great story this will be! I can’t wait to update my Facebook status!” But it was not meant to be. I was crushed. I thought this was finally my Happily Ever After. Continue reading IF YOU ARE NEW TO THE BLOG, START HERE: When One Door Closes, Another One Opens. Even If You Have to Kick It Down.
Not Quite A Cougar 