I shook my head and furrowed my brow, chewing on my lip for a moment in concentration. I looked up at the other three. “I dunno, after four months, maybe five months of a pretty serious relationship? It would have to seem appropriate at the time.”
Text-speak has made it virtually impossible to get turned on anymore IRL, yet there are a few words that actually send icy chills of hatred down my spine. Gchat conversations can lead to romance. Think about that the next time you’re typing, and please, do everything in your power to avoid these three words/phrases.
Here was my dream man. It was all too much. I had signed up for therapy expecting a certain type of therapist. A mother figure swaddled in scarves, with an office stocked with tissues, homey furniture, and chocolate. All things girl. But here he was. All things man. Breathe, I told myself. Just give him an hour session. Then you can switch therapists.
Undeterred by Jason’s celebrity, I nonchalantly wedged myself between the two men and said, “Hey Jason, you were funny,” before immediately turning to Glaser to declare, “AND YOU ARE AWESOME, DUDE.”
Sincerely. Warmly. Wantonly. I’d be thrilled to receive an email with one of these closings. Well, maybe not “wantonly” in a business context, but at least it’s better than “best.” “Best” has bothered me for some time in both business and personal contexts, for various reasons. Here are five.
Thank you for allowing me to take an interest in anything, and encouraging it, but always making it my responsibility to get done. Thank you for never forcing or coercing me into a career of your liking. Thank you for telling me that I am beautiful.
Over time you will begin to acclimate yourself to the unique features of this massive metropolis, and you might even start to like some of them. Frankly, the sooner you do the better. Therefore, in the spirit of public service, here’s a short list of things you’re going to have to get used to now that you’re here.
I am descendant from apes, this is true, but I am nogorilla, and in that light I admit I am the descendant of religious folk but am no longer a believer. Religion is my coccyx bone, and the fact that its residual echoes choose to surface during moments of passion is something I have come—pardon the pun—to relish.
The hardest part about leaving the city is the idea of quitting. If I quit Manhattan, than I become a quitter. And when you’re a mover and a shaker, you’re not a quitter. To quit anything is bad form.
I remember seeing you, I remember having a good enough time. I don’t remember piecing together the obvious parts. Until now. Now, when every realization is exploding right next to my face, one after another, right around my temples. My eyes flicker with each burst semblance of a better life.