A Note on Forgotten Favorites
I’ve done a pretty good job of removing things that remind me of my past relationship.  Moments after we broke up, I changed my Facebook status.  A day later, I removed that happy picture of us from a frame.  I did all the things I was supposed to do.  Well, at least I thought I did.
A few weeks ago, I realized he was still listed in my iPhone’s Favorites.  I have never felt more betrayed by a piece of technology.  Phone! How could you do this to me?! Haven’t you realized that we haven’t called each other in weeks? That he’s not texting me every day? He is not my favorite anymore. You can tell me if it’s raining at Stonehenge, but you can’t realize that this person is not my favorite anymore? Sigh.
So today, I finally removed him. I’m not sure what took me so long, but it just felt like it wasn’t doing any harm keeping him there so I just left it there.  But now I know that I need to make room for a new favorite.  Or a few more favorites. 

A Note on Forgotten Favorites

I’ve done a pretty good job of removing things that remind me of my past relationship.  Moments after we broke up, I changed my Facebook status.  A day later, I removed that happy picture of us from a frame.  I did all the things I was supposed to do.  Well, at least I thought I did.

A few weeks ago, I realized he was still listed in my iPhone’s Favorites.  I have never felt more betrayed by a piece of technology.  Phone! How could you do this to me?! Haven’t you realized that we haven’t called each other in weeks? That he’s not texting me every day? He is not my favorite anymore. You can tell me if it’s raining at Stonehenge, but you can’t realize that this person is not my favorite anymore? Sigh.

So today, I finally removed him. I’m not sure what took me so long, but it just felt like it wasn’t doing any harm keeping him there so I just left it there.  But now I know that I need to make room for a new favorite.  Or a few more favorites. 

A Note on “I Like You”
Something tremendous happened recently.  A guy told me he liked me.  Not in a weird, nebulous, let’s-hang-out-and-see-what-happens way, but in a “I like you” way.  The actual words.
I don’t think this has ever happened to me before. For example, in college I had a huge crush on a guy in my class.  I blogged about it, thinking he would never find it (This was early blogging times, friends. I was dumb.), but then one day he confronted me about my blog…and I was mortified.  Just the idea that he knew I liked him made me want to hide under the covers of my extra long twin bed for a semester.  But, it turns out, he liked me, too.   But did we ever just say, “Hey, I like you!”?  Hell no.  
I’ve read about this kind of forwardness and honesty in those “If he likes you, he’ll tell you!”-type books, but I never actually thought it was a real thing.  In fact, before he told me he liked me, I was ready to spend the rest of the day analyzing our date, and reading into the subtext of his texts, trying to find out if he liked me…but then I didn’t have to.  How liberating.

A Note on “I Like You”

Something tremendous happened recently.  A guy told me he liked me.  Not in a weird, nebulous, let’s-hang-out-and-see-what-happens way, but in a “I like you” way.  The actual words.

I don’t think this has ever happened to me before. For example, in college I had a huge crush on a guy in my class.  I blogged about it, thinking he would never find it (This was early blogging times, friends. I was dumb.), but then one day he confronted me about my blog…and I was mortified.  Just the idea that he knew I liked him made me want to hide under the covers of my extra long twin bed for a semester.  But, it turns out, he liked me, too.   But did we ever just say, “Hey, I like you!”?  Hell no.  

I’ve read about this kind of forwardness and honesty in those “If he likes you, he’ll tell you!”-type books, but I never actually thought it was a real thing.  In fact, before he told me he liked me, I was ready to spend the rest of the day analyzing our date, and reading into the subtext of his texts, trying to find out if he liked me…but then I didn’t have to.  How liberating.

A Note on Ladies’ Weekends
A few days after my relationship ended, two of my favorite lady friends sent me a care package filled with goodies to help me through those tender days post-breakup when you don’t want to leave your apartment and only want to wear sweatpants.  These ladies are the best.  Truly.
Last weekend, these ladies and I went on a sensible vacation to a place with palm trees (the best kind of place).  We laid by the pool, read Real Simple magazine, talked about our 401k contributions, and laughed a lot.  We also got frozen yogurt.  Twice.  
On our way back from dinner one night, my ex called me.  No, he FaceTimed me.  I didn’t answer (because WTF?) but texted him and said, “pocket dial” to which he replied, “My uncle wanted to talk to you.”  Um, ok.  You don’t FaceTime your ex-girlfriend so your uncle can talk to her, and she doesn’t answer your FaceTime because she is moving on with her life  and drinking margaritas.
I saw my therapist today, and she said, “I just have to say.  You look so much better.”  And, to be honest, I feel much better.  Dating has been kind of fun, I’ve been much more social, I had this super relaxing weekend, and everything feels okay.  This is good.  This is better.

A Note on Ladies’ Weekends

A few days after my relationship ended, two of my favorite lady friends sent me a care package filled with goodies to help me through those tender days post-breakup when you don’t want to leave your apartment and only want to wear sweatpants.  These ladies are the best.  Truly.

Last weekend, these ladies and I went on a sensible vacation to a place with palm trees (the best kind of place).  We laid by the pool, read Real Simple magazine, talked about our 401k contributions, and laughed a lot.  We also got frozen yogurt.  Twice.  

On our way back from dinner one night, my ex called me.  No, he FaceTimed me.  I didn’t answer (because WTF?) but texted him and said, “pocket dial” to which he replied, “My uncle wanted to talk to you.”  Um, ok.  You don’t FaceTime your ex-girlfriend so your uncle can talk to her, and she doesn’t answer your FaceTime because she is moving on with her life  and drinking margaritas.

I saw my therapist today, and she said, “I just have to say.  You look so much better.”  And, to be honest, I feel much better.  Dating has been kind of fun, I’ve been much more social, I had this super relaxing weekend, and everything feels okay.  This is good.  This is better.

A Note on First Kisses
This note represents the hugs and kisses that have occurred on the three first dates I’ve been on.  X’s are hugs. O’s are kisses. Innovative, right?
In the past, I rarely kissed on first dates.  In fact, my ex and I didn’t kiss until our third date, which was my birthday party.  And even then, I don’t think we would have kissed if I wasn’t fueled by liquid courage in the form of many glasses pinot grigio.  I’m just a shy person, and I’m not one to kiss on the first date.
Or so I thought.
Date one kissed me in the middle of the date.  He didn’t even wait until the end, which is when television and movies say first kisses should happen.  He then kept kissing me, until the cab dropped him off.
Date two kissed me in the middle of the date, again, disregarding the end-of-the-night kiss tradition. (Who are these guys?!)  I didn’t think the date was going well, but he went for it, and you have to appreciate the effort.  We awkwardly hugged goodnight, because while I could appreciate the effort, I’m not that nice.
Date three.  This guy!  An awkward hug at the beginning, a friendly hug at the end.  This guy knows what’s up.  It actually made me want to kiss him.  I’m hoping for a second date with XX guy, just so I can.
And the heart?  The heart is for you, dear reader.  I loved every single one of your song recommendations and am so humbled by your Fan Mail.  You are so kind.  You are so sweet.  You are so loved.

A Note on First Kisses

This note represents the hugs and kisses that have occurred on the three first dates I’ve been on.  X’s are hugs. O’s are kisses. Innovative, right?

In the past, I rarely kissed on first dates.  In fact, my ex and I didn’t kiss until our third date, which was my birthday party.  And even then, I don’t think we would have kissed if I wasn’t fueled by liquid courage in the form of many glasses pinot grigio.  I’m just a shy person, and I’m not one to kiss on the first date.

Or so I thought.

Date one kissed me in the middle of the date.  He didn’t even wait until the end, which is when television and movies say first kisses should happen.  He then kept kissing me, until the cab dropped him off.

Date two kissed me in the middle of the date, again, disregarding the end-of-the-night kiss tradition. (Who are these guys?!)  I didn’t think the date was going well, but he went for it, and you have to appreciate the effort.  We awkwardly hugged goodnight, because while I could appreciate the effort, I’m not that nice.

Date three.  This guy!  An awkward hug at the beginning, a friendly hug at the end.  This guy knows what’s up.  It actually made me want to kiss him.  I’m hoping for a second date with XX guy, just so I can.

And the heart?  The heart is for you, dear reader.  I loved every single one of your song recommendations and am so humbled by your Fan Mail.  You are so kind.  You are so sweet.  You are so loved.

A Note on Love Songs
We broke up a month ago, and I didn’t even notice. A whole month has passed, and I think I moved so fast into the “date other people” mode, that I didn’t give myself enough time to mourn my relationship (and, to be honest, I think I’m already hung up on one of my practice date guys, but that’s another crappy drawing.)
Usually, I mope around for a few days, make playlists of sad songs, and stalk their social media accounts to make myself feel worse. But this time, I didn’t do any of that.
This is where you come in.  I’m looking for two kinds of songs:
1.  Breakup songs. Like sad, tear-my-heart-out-of-my-chest-and-stomp-on-it songs.  Think Taylor Swift, but with more feels (is that even possible?)
2.  Moving on songs.  I think I’ve moved on.  I’m dating other people.  I’m making out with them in cabs.  I think I’m over it, but I want to feel like I’m over it. Think Kelly Clarkson, just with more lady power.
Got a song in mind?

A Note on Love Songs

We broke up a month ago, and I didn’t even notice. A whole month has passed, and I think I moved so fast into the “date other people” mode, that I didn’t give myself enough time to mourn my relationship (and, to be honest, I think I’m already hung up on one of my practice date guys, but that’s another crappy drawing.)

Usually, I mope around for a few days, make playlists of sad songs, and stalk their social media accounts to make myself feel worse. But this time, I didn’t do any of that.

This is where you come in.  I’m looking for two kinds of songs:

1.  Breakup songs. Like sad, tear-my-heart-out-of-my-chest-and-stomp-on-it songs.  Think Taylor Swift, but with more feels (is that even possible?)

2.  Moving on songs.  I think I’ve moved on.  I’m dating other people.  I’m making out with them in cabs.  I think I’m over it, but I want to feel like I’m over it. Think Kelly Clarkson, just with more lady power.

Got a song in mind?

A Note on Coffee Dates
Coffee is the ideal first date.  It’s casual and quick.  An hour, tops, followed by a goodnight hug, right?  
Well, if so, I’m doing it wrong.
I right swiped on a friendly looking guy.  We made plans to meet up for coffee at a cute place near Union Square.  When I arrived, I noticed the place was filled with people on first dates.  The get-to-know you questions, the polite laughter, the flirtatious body language…it was overwhelming. “Well, I guess this is who I am now,” I thought, and took a seat.
My date walked through the door shortly after.  We awkwardly hugged, then ordered coffee.  Instead of enjoying our coffees at Cafe Tinder, we walked to the park, found a bench, and painstakingly worked our way through get-to-know you questions, the polite laughter, the flirtatious body language.
I didn’t think it was going particularly well, but he put his arm around me.  Fine.  Then he asked me if I wanted to get a drink.  I thought, “You should never go to a second location!” but then I thought, “Fine.”
The bar was fine, the rest of the date was fine, the awkward kiss he gave me in the middle of my sentence was fine.  The kiss he gave me at the end of the night was fine.  Everything was fine.
Is this what dating is? Just fine? 

A Note on Coffee Dates

Coffee is the ideal first date.  It’s casual and quick.  An hour, tops, followed by a goodnight hug, right?  

Well, if so, I’m doing it wrong.

I right swiped on a friendly looking guy.  We made plans to meet up for coffee at a cute place near Union Square.  When I arrived, I noticed the place was filled with people on first dates.  The get-to-know you questions, the polite laughter, the flirtatious body language…it was overwhelming. “Well, I guess this is who I am now,” I thought, and took a seat.

My date walked through the door shortly after.  We awkwardly hugged, then ordered coffee.  Instead of enjoying our coffees at Cafe Tinder, we walked to the park, found a bench, and painstakingly worked our way through get-to-know you questions, the polite laughter, the flirtatious body language.

I didn’t think it was going particularly well, but he put his arm around me.  Fine.  Then he asked me if I wanted to get a drink.  I thought, “You should never go to a second location!” but then I thought, “Fine.”

The bar was fine, the rest of the date was fine, the awkward kiss he gave me in the middle of my sentence was fine.  The kiss he gave me at the end of the night was fine.  Everything was fine.

Is this what dating is? Just fine? 

A Note on First Dates in NYC
This city is filled with literally millions of single people, so I decided to go out with one of them.
I know it’s really soon, but my therapist suggested that I go out there and “practice.”
Practice was tonight at 7pm at an Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. We ordered wine, split a cheese plate, shared two pastas, canoodled over dessert, and sipped dessert cocktails.
I was relieved to find out that I could still carry on an okay date-worthy conversation, flirt occasionally, and pretend to offer to pay the bill — all important skills. (PS: If he wanted to split the bill, I’d like to think I’d be cool with it.)
The night ended with a stroll uptown (holding hands, natch), looking at the Empire State Building, and kissing in the back of a taxi.
Am I ready to date? Maybe not. Am I glad I’m dating? Not sure. Is dating fun? Not really. Did I rush home and put on sweatpants? Absolutely.

A Note on First Dates in NYC

This city is filled with literally millions of single people, so I decided to go out with one of them.

I know it’s really soon, but my therapist suggested that I go out there and “practice.”

Practice was tonight at 7pm at an Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. We ordered wine, split a cheese plate, shared two pastas, canoodled over dessert, and sipped dessert cocktails.

I was relieved to find out that I could still carry on an okay date-worthy conversation, flirt occasionally, and pretend to offer to pay the bill — all important skills. (PS: If he wanted to split the bill, I’d like to think I’d be cool with it.)

The night ended with a stroll uptown (holding hands, natch), looking at the Empire State Building, and kissing in the back of a taxi.

Am I ready to date? Maybe not. Am I glad I’m dating? Not sure. Is dating fun? Not really. Did I rush home and put on sweatpants? Absolutely.

A Note on Going Stag
Just days after we broke up, I went to a wedding.  I was more upset that I had to rent a car and book a hotel than I was that he wasn’t going to the wedding with me.  How dare he make last-minute changes to my plans!  Jerk.
I showed up to the wedding (sporting a sassy floral print dress, btw) and only two people asked me why I was there alone.  I gave the short, “We broke up” answer and that was all that needed to be said.  It was relatively painless and it felt good to acknowledge it without sobbing.
I ended up having a great time, catching up with old friends (and old flames), dancing, and celebrating.  Going stag isn’t so bad, as long as there’s lots of wine, friends, and people to potentially hook up with.

A Note on Going Stag

Just days after we broke up, I went to a wedding.  I was more upset that I had to rent a car and book a hotel than I was that he wasn’t going to the wedding with me.  How dare he make last-minute changes to my plans!  Jerk.

I showed up to the wedding (sporting a sassy floral print dress, btw) and only two people asked me why I was there alone.  I gave the short, “We broke up” answer and that was all that needed to be said.  It was relatively painless and it felt good to acknowledge it without sobbing.

I ended up having a great time, catching up with old friends (and old flames), dancing, and celebrating.  Going stag isn’t so bad, as long as there’s lots of wine, friends, and people to potentially hook up with.

A Note on Grieving
It’s been a little more than a week since the breakup and I’m doing surprisingly well.  I haven’t melted into an inconsolable pile of stretchy pants and Ben & Jerry’s, which is promising.
I went to a therapist to talk through this transitional phase, because that seemed like the kind of thing I would do.  As soon as I sat down on her couch, I started crying.  ”Feelings!” I thought.  ”There you are! I missed you!”
I only cry when I’m talking about the breakup, and since I’m not really talking about it, I’m not crying.  My therapist told me that I might be in shock and numb to everything, but that I need to acknowledge that I had a loss and that I should let myself grieve.
So here I am.  Grieving.  Pouring one out for this relationship.

A Note on Grieving

It’s been a little more than a week since the breakup and I’m doing surprisingly well.  I haven’t melted into an inconsolable pile of stretchy pants and Ben & Jerry’s, which is promising.

I went to a therapist to talk through this transitional phase, because that seemed like the kind of thing I would do.  As soon as I sat down on her couch, I started crying.  ”Feelings!” I thought.  ”There you are! I missed you!”

I only cry when I’m talking about the breakup, and since I’m not really talking about it, I’m not crying.  My therapist told me that I might be in shock and numb to everything, but that I need to acknowledge that I had a loss and that I should let myself grieve.

So here I am.  Grieving.  Pouring one out for this relationship.