When a Man Likes a Woman

5527488edef99When a man likes a woman she knows how he feels. She feels beautiful, confident and appreciates who she is. There is no anxiety. No agitation. He asks to see her again. She accepts and is excited. Things fall into place. 

When a man likes a woman it isn’t a guessing game.

She knows how he feels and she feels the same.

And if he doesn’t like her? Well then she cuts her losses, dusts herself off, continues to love who she is on the inside and outside, and keeps looking for the man who goes out of his way to impress her and follows up for a second date. He doesn’t make excuses. He genuinely wants her.

This is not personal.

This is online dating.


Talking to Strangers

jeremy_norton_illustration___strange_girl_by_jeremynorton-d7yokifIt was a windy Friday morning. I was on the train platform with my oversized bag of rolling purple luggage.

There was someone staring at me. She looked no older than 18. She wore glasses and was quite thin. It looked like she wanted to say something to me. I didn’t move an inch.

“Going somewhere?”

She had a whimsical voice. I looked up at her. She looked alone. Like she needed someone to talk to.

“I’m going to Cape Cod.”

“I’ve never been there”

“Either have I”

Awkward silence

“I’m sorry I really didn’t mean to start conversation.”

“That’s okay. I’m friendly, I don’t mind.”

We sat together on the train. She told me about her internship and her college studies, her family, her boyfriend. I talked a bit. She talked more and kept apologizing about talking so much.

At one point she pulled out a stick of deodarant and swiped some under her arms. She was a little eccentric and a few years older than I thought she was. She told me how people are usually very mean to her and that I was nice. At one point she almost had me tearing up.

So when she asked me for my phone number, I thought it was a little personal but it might be okay. I gave it to her along with my last name. She claimed to know my sister. I thought they may have been high school friends and deemed her as “safe.”

She usually took the subway to work but since I walk, she decided to walk with me. We got on the escalator. I tried to maneuver my footing with my rolling luggage and was a little disoriented. She held out her hand to me and said, “it’s okay, I got you.” I thought this was nice but a little much. Like something I would have done a decade earlier. I said no thanks.

We got to my block, I gave her a hug. I got to my office and noticed I had a white deodorant stain on my black cardigan. I had a text from her saying she got to work safe. And every day after that I received texts from her wishing me a good time in Cape Cod. And I also had Facebook notifications for posts of a comic we had chatted about. Then I had Facebook messages along with more text messages asking what time my train would be the next day.

I only answered her once.


I Want Pain: A Dark Piece

Screenshot_2016-03-31-17-44-43-2.pngI can’t shake the feeling of wanting to wrap something around my own neck. To feel pain around my throat; to feel my air supply slowly being cut off. Feeling pain is all I crave right now and I can’t explain why. I want the pain to be so unbearable that it forces hot tears out of my eyes, I want to feel them as they run down my cheeks, smearing my mascara. My nose runs. I’m sniveling all over myself. I’m panicked. I’m alone.

I don’t really want to die but that cord hanging from the ceiling was taunting me. So many bodies. So many people are crowded around me I just want to push them all out of my way. A man walks by and runs over my foot with his rolling luggage. I toss him a dirty look. It makes me so angry. As hundreds of bodies fight against each other to the escalator I slowly growl under my breath. Growling softly is all I can do at the end of the day. Then I see that wire hanging from the top of the station platform. As I make my way down the escalator I wonder if I could leap up and slip my head through the loop hanging above me. I wonder how painful it would be, if I would die instantly or if it would be slow. I wondered if anyone would even notice the young girl in the leather jacket with the blue backpack hanging above them as they race for their rush hour train.

I wonder if my life would even mean something if I left it right now. I have no man who cares for me. My family would miss me. My friends would miss me. I feel like  I am nothing, I have nothing.  I’m just another flesh vehicle trying to survive a place with no clearly defined purpose.

If you or someone close to you is contemplating suicide, please know that help is available to you. Call 1-800-SUICIDE or visit http://www.hopeline.com.

Disclaimer: I would never want to harm myself. This is merely a piece written during an unhappy period that should be read as a character from a book rather than a true reflection of the blogger behind it.

The Tinder Chronicles – Why Do I Bother?

tinderella1-e1445200982961The people you swipe on Tinder are as random as people you see when you walk through the streets of New York. There are so many profiles to choose from that you really don’t matter to these people. You’re purely disposable. Truly, no one cares. Not only that, if you are an online dater you may already know that online chemistry in no way relates to real life chemistry. It may seem like you have much to talk about via text but in real life it usually doesn’t translate. As you may know there are different levels of attraction aside from just the physical  – voice, mannerisms, dress, smell, touch, little things like that. Here are two real life profiles of men who I have met thanks to Tinder:

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New York City Dreams Come True


At 7:25 each morning I warm up my car and prep for my trek into New York. From the moment I walk out of my house it will take me exactly 90 minutes to reach the door to my office. I drive to the train station 5 minutes away, park my car and walk up the long stairway to the train platform.

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Don’t Wait for Someone to Save You

Maybe I have watched too many Disney movies that have made me a romantic with high standards. Maybe I do think too highly of myself and I can clearly see my own inner and outer beauty. I am a special young lady and I wholeheartedly believe that. Is it such a bad thing  to think “too” highly of oneself?

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A Singles Cruise Around New York Harbor

20140914_191937It was September 2014. I was four months out of my first serious relationship. I desperately wanted to forget about my ex-boyfriend and our hot mess relationship so I resorted to Meetup.com to find fun activities to partake in. There was a singles cruise in NYC listed. Even if I didn’t meet someone, watching the sunset in Manhattan from a yacht would be more than worth it. I didn’t think I would really meet anyone worthwhile. I was anxious and uncomfortable. I had nothing cute to wear. My aunt walked me down to the pier to see me off because she was nervous to let me get on a ship alone with a bunch of strangers. A 24-year-old girl has her aunt walk her down to board a yacht for a singles cruise.

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