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Love is patient, even on Valentine’s Day.

“Hey, your face doesn’t look weird when your hair is wet.”

I look up from the stream of water, wiping my face, “Thanks… I guess?”
“That means you have a really pretty face.”

It’s the first compliment I remember; the first REAL compliment. 


Last night was Valentine’s Day and work held him up until later than I was pleased with. I started cooking our dinner alone. A wave of annoyance and irritation ran through me which brought me to irrationally decide how mad I was going to be when he finally arrived.

I used to get more upset about things than I do now. In my past relationship, arguments were pervasive. Problems turned into cold shoulders turned into fights. This time around I have a new sense of respect for being patient and selfless and I catch myself when I get into that old habit. Our beginning was hard and before most people would’ve gone on their third date we had to decide if this was a relationship worth the effort it was going to take before we even had a chance to try. That process was slow and thoughtful and heavy but I learned more about the strength of patience than I ever have.

I remembered that last night. I knew he didn’t want to be at work late any more than I did. His excitement about the gift he had made me and the recipe he picked out for us to make was something he was looking forward to just as much as I was. When he walked through the door his eyes proved it. I wasn’t upset; I was so excited to see him. Instead of annoyance, a ten-minute hug. Instead of irritation, an “I’m sorry your day was hard. How can we make it better?” Appropriately, his Valentine’s card reads “You’ve taught me to really try at love and be selfless. Any time we’ve had issues, we’re able to calm the other down and work through it.”

The second time around you are more realistic when it comes to love. You look at the relationship as a whole where every moment and action and reaction matter. You realize it takes effort; constant effort. Moments matter. Shared gratitude for one another matters. Touch matters. Talking in person matters. The only thing you shouldn’t give a damn about is time, because if you do it right you’ll have lots of it and in order to do it right you have to sustain these moments. He asked me once if I think there will be a time where he won’t get butterflies when he sees me for the first time that day. Tears may not swell in my eyes the way they did at the first “I love you” but I promised this kind of love will never be taken for granted.

Last night, after we made our dinner, we curled up in bed and watched old episodes of Seinfeld. In one, George had just started wearing a headpiece when Kramer set him up on a date with a bald woman.

He turns to me and jokes, “You’d be pretty even if you were bald.”  
I insert a hot dad joke about his who has a shaved head. I win.

This morning in to the bathroom I’ve got my wet hair wrapped up in a towel. 

“See, this is what I would look like if I were bald” I say.
“Yeah and you’d still look good, because you have a really pretty face.”

via prfd



Things You Get To Do When You Live Alone

  • Take your pants off immediately upon entering your apartment.
  • Leave your bedroom and bathroom door open at all times.
  • Not worry about anyone eating your ice cream.
  • Listen to whatever music you want to really loud without judgement.
  • Eat whatever you want, whenever you want, however you want.
  • Get freaky whenever, wherever and at whatever volume you choose. 
  • Set up a full blown spa/ cinema in your bathroom without worrying someone else has to pee.
  • Dance terribly/ dance terribly while naked.
  • Using all the hot water.
  • Not even caring that dishes have been sitting in the sink for three days.
  • Feel feelings when you feel like feeling them because you don’t have to hide your sobs or screams through a bedroom wall.
  • Talk to your cat and answer questions she didn’t ask you.
  • Dance with your cat/ dance with your cat while naked.
  • Test how long you’ll last in heels by wearing them around your apartment for an afternoon. Probably naked.
  • Having all the wine to yourself.
  • Workout to YouTube fitness videos in the living room. Naked.
  • Wear a bra never.
Alternative title: How Living Alone Has Turned Me Into A Nudist



Different Types of Men as Described Through Cocktails at Marvel Bar

20th Century (brizard cacao, cocchi american, lemon, gordons): My generation, we drink because it’s good, because it feels better than unbuttoning your collar, because we deserve it. We drink because it’s what men do.” - Roger Sterling. This cocktail is Don Draper in a cup, a classic man of distinction with expensive taste and a disregard for the flashy. He’s timeless, but he’s also got mass appeal. Be careful with this one. 

Corpse Reviver #2 (st. george’s absinthe, lemon, cocchi american, cointreau, gordons): Bloody Mary’s male counterpart + a dash of Love Potion #9, this drink is scraggly, yet appealing, just like you after a long night out. You want him but you shouldn’t. This is Johnny Depp with smudged eyeliner in Pirates of the Carribean…minus the dreadlocks.

Tomas Collins (pickle brine, lime, aalborg, seltzer) - He’s the hippest of the bunch. He drives an old motorcycle that he learned to fix growing up and he’s been adding pickle brine to his drinks and wearing Chuck Taylors for years, not knowing it’s the thing to do these days. 

Oliveto (olive oil, egg white, lemon, Licor 43, Gordons): He’s sly, he’s smooth, he slips the egg white into your drink before you know it. He whisks you off on his vespa, carefully securing your helmet before you ride through the dim evening light. While away on business, he calls you late at night to tell you, “Paris just isn’t the same without you.”

Honey Spot (black pepper-infused honey, lemon, cabin still, pilsner): Blipster to the max with his black pepper-infused honey. He performs poetry hiphop on Thursday nights at a divey bar uptown. His v-neck sweater is freshly ironed as he walks with you hand in hand, unabashed, to the coffee shop for espresso and intellectual discourse.

Golden Age (licor 43, cynar, tio pepe, flor de cana gold): Caesar, he’s blinged out, he’s chiseled, and he’s wearing a toga… or at least a well-fitting cardigan.  Remarkable in his dress and stature, you easily stare down this man candy from across the room. He always travels with a group of attractive females to ensure only the boldest of women approach him. Don’t be afraid of this one, he’s yours with confidence. (Pro tip: get to the point; leave him before being left.)

Jack Rose (grenadine, lemon, laird’s 100 proof): If survivor Rose had carried Jack’s baby, this would be his son. Sweet, charming and adventurous with the strength of a survivor of a sinking ship. Too many of these and you’re going down to the bottom, too. You may have to ask the bartender for a side of iceberg to keep you from falling too deep. He’ll cause you to break all the rules much to the display of your family. Go for it. 

El Presidente (grenadine, cointreau, noilly prat dry, flor de cana gold): He’s the original scruffy hipster, comes with a cigar. He has a hairy chest and back. He’s also the guy with Che Guevara posters in his bedroom. He’s the original rebel, the guy Taylor Swift talks about in I Knew You Were Trouble. You know he’s no good, but it’s impossible to turn away when his hand crawls up your neck to the back of your head as he pulls you in. Shame on you. 

Bobby Burns (peychaud’s, benedictine, antica formula, white horse): Bobby Burns is the 1950’s jewel you see in your grandmother’s photos. You’ve known him since grade school, the kid you knew across the street who collected baseball cards growing up. He owns Warby Parkers, a record player and a vintage bicycle. He thinks “Going Dutch” is a crime and takes you out for a greasy spoon brunch every Saturday. Take this crooked smile home to mom. 



Things I’m Mediocre At:
So maybe I haven’t found my calling in life yet, but there are a number of things I can do that I will stand by in confidence saying I did quite a mediocre job at, and for now, that’s okay.
Finding cheap flightsWhile at work.
BloggingWith an average of 5 notes a post, my queue of pictures, words and feelings is pretty alright.
Cutting hairHaving only been to the salon twice in the last 3 years, you’ll find that my bangs are always straight with few split ends. Also known to be pretty decent with the clippers on my male friends, only once resulting in a mullet. (Sorry, Todd)
CookingSince I don’t cook with meat, it’s pretty difficult to mess up. I also own a rice cooker. 
Making ListsI’m also known as Post-it Girl at work.Social MediaWhatever that actually means, I can do it just as average as the next girl. 
Curating mix tapesFrom my early days with KaZaA to Vuze and others, I have a moderate talent at tracking down any song you wan’t legally or not.  
Small talkMan, did you see that weather today? How about that sports thing last night? 
Giving massagesMediocre at giving because I’m better at receiving. 
BakingBox mix, bake sale, homemade… you won’t know the difference. 

Things I’m Mediocre At:

So maybe I haven’t found my calling in life yet, but there are a number of things I can do that I will stand by in confidence saying I did quite a mediocre job at, and for now, that’s okay.

Finding cheap flights
While at work.

With an average of 5 notes a post, my queue of pictures, words and feelings is pretty alright.

Cutting hair
Having only been to the salon twice in the last 3 years, you’ll find that my bangs are always straight with few split ends. Also known to be pretty decent with the clippers on my male friends, only once resulting in a mullet. (Sorry, Todd)

Since I don’t cook with meat, it’s pretty difficult to mess up. I also own a rice cooker. 

Making Lists
I’m also known as Post-it Girl at work.

Social Media
Whatever that actually means, I can do it just as average as the next girl. 

Curating mix tapes
From my early days with KaZaA to Vuze and others, I have a moderate talent at tracking down any song you wan’t legally or not.  

Small talk
Man, did you see that weather today? How about that sports thing last night? 

Giving massages
Mediocre at giving because I’m better at receiving. 

Box mix, bake sale, homemade… you won’t know the difference. 



The View From 65

Embrace love in all of its forms, live with a strong connection to your higher self, laugh loudly and often … with yourself as your main source of amusement.

Eliminate manufactured fear. Root out all messages and warnings of fear instilled within you by parents, teachers, leaders, TV, media and your imagination. Look around you and see the ways you are safe, secure and empowered. Regardless of your circumstances, there is good in your life. See it, acknowledge it, enjoy it and be thankful.

Life is an adventure. There’re opportunities every day to learn new things, meet new people, gain new perspective and explore new ideas. Many only appear once; don’t miss them.

Tell your truth of the moment. (It will evolve as you grow and change.) Be authentic by your definition, not what others cast upon you.

Treat each person you meet as the unique individual they are. Learn something from every person. Notice their eyes; their spirit, their beauty. Acknowledge them with a smile, nod or thought.

Become aware of your negative and judgmental thoughts. Counter them with love. Forgive yourself for actions that have hurt others. Vow to change the behavior. Forgive those who have hurt you because in doing so, you make room for love, laughter and joy.

Remember and honor those who have loved, cherished, protected, guided, taught, and, yes, even those who have pissed you off.

The way I see it, Love is a much better place from which to live a life.

Penny Rice, age 65 via The Listserve



Mom Emails

Mom’s are really great and Steph’s mom is no exception. Jeri teaches art history to 3rd graders, has fabulous gardens, does stained glass, and would rather rake leaves than go to pilates. She also composes some of the best emails around. Enjoy.

Subject: Call Me



Subject:  Masher

Today I went to the Goodwill with Steve and Peter-another rousing Sunday.  GET EXCITED! I BOUGHT YOU A POTATO MASHER!!!!!  Then we went to Dicks in Hudson for dinner.  That’s all I know.  Hope you’re not jealous of my good times here!



Subject: Deer

Guess what!  I just saw a gimpy deer in the back yard!  

Subject: MJ news flash

Michael Jackson’s “This Is It” is coming out Jan. 26 - I shall own it on the 26th!!!!!!!!

Subject: Dog Hair

In response to an email I sent “Found a dog hair frozen in the chicken soup you brought me….”

Mom:  I hope you ate it anyway. Our bodies are loaded with hair balls. Get used to it.

Love u


Subject: HOBOS

There is an article in paper this morning on hobos.  Remind me to tell you my mother’s stories about hobos.

have a grand day-i am!



Subject: batty

There’s a bat in my bedroom.

Hope you have a nice day.

I’m going to find you pots.


Subject: bugs

I think the things I saw in the pond were mosquito larva, not tadpoles!  No wonder you didn’t grow up to be a biologist!



Subject: flu

I’m in bed w/ flu. no haircut, no tcher’s party  today-bummed out.

do you love me?


Subject: Wedding

WOW  Can’t wait!

Got a new dress today for the wedding.  Need some tight girdle thing to wear under it.  Tried some on and almost died.  Hate that stuff, Expensive.  Going to Target to look.



Subject: Beanie babies

Is it ok if I bring your b babies to school to let the kids draw them.  I don’t think too many will get destroyed or stollen.



Subject: MOM (on Steph’s new job)

Rah!  Boop boop de do!  Bravo!  Yea!  Cheers!  Yippie!  Rejoice!  Happy, happy!  Hurrah!  Applaud!  Huzzah!  Hooray!  Alleluia! and Dancing for joy!



Subject: MOM bucks

I put $110 in your acct for garage, netflix and a cup of JOE from Dunn.



Subject: Toes

Call me about tomorrow.  How are we going to get our toes done AND have lunch???  Won’t we have to go barefoot to let our nails dry?!

I hope you are not sick.  My nose is icky now.

Love u


Subject: FOOD

I just cooked a turkey.  Want some?




When The Server Asks If We Want Our Check One Hour Before The Bottomless Mimosa Special Ends

Surviving a Break-up

two weeks? three days? a month? when was the last time you thought of him, you wonder. something has brought him into your thoughtstream and instantly you realize that you feel nothing; numb to the person who so effortlessly dropped you from his life after four and a half years, who made you cry for 3 months straight, the person you had almost written vows for. how can it be that your heart doesn’t suddenly start pounding out of your rib cage  you aren’t cringing to hold back tears, your breathing is slow and controlled. 

there were days you thought this moment wasn’t physically possible. you had unsuccessfully tried to rid yourself of that feeling for months. you sobbed over photos, over old letters, over cold sheets. you wrote yourself lists upon lists of why you couldn’t be together and why you should forget him. you learned how to cry silently at work so no one could hear you when the swelling in your chest from an 2-day unanswered text message was unbearable. you tried to convince yourself that you were better than the dramatic overreactions you were having, but it just made it worse because you couldn’t stop. you became your own worst enemy. 

similarly, your friends become therapists. they tell you you’re pretty, they tell you you’re smart, they tell you how you deserve better. you found yourself laughing inside at how cliche these moments were. were you really the girl that everyone felt bad for? you wondered if your behavior was only following the motions of what we’ve learned of break-ups through cinema or if all those sappy rom-com’s actually reflect our bizarre behaviors. as they nodded in agreement over the reasons why you couldn’t and shouldn’t get back together, all you think about is how you will, you have to. in order to cope with the situation, you revert to Disney princess fantasies of happily-ever-afters and tell yourself he’ll come back to sweep you off your feet. deep down you know it’s a lie, and as much as you didn’t believe them at the time, reassurance and support from your friends meant everything.

somewhere between the constant word vomit of breakup woes, the ‘there are more fish in the sea’ encouragements from friends, and subsequent internalization of the whole thing, your body silently gives up. you’re heart takes a nap, your muscles relax, and your fingers paint ‘fuck you’ over the deep breath you were holding in. you realize that although you may be at your lowest low, the world doesn’t stop for you. on the days you feel like you can’t muster up the energy to get yourself out of bed, you do, because you have to. it’s a blessing in that you realize life moves on, and slowly you do, too. you become okay with not knowing the details of his life. you realize you’ve lost the privilege of being the first person he tells things to. when a text goes unanswered, you hardly notice.

it’s when you get a phone call from the hospital that throws you for a loop. a bike accident, broken bones, and a boy on lots of medications telling you he wished you could be there makes you feel uneasy. you remind yourself that he is not in the right state if mind. it scares you to realize that you aren’t the person who is first in line to visit him at the hospital. when would you have been notified if it had ended up worse? you want to calm him down and remind him that you love him. can you say that? do you? it’s a different kind of love this time. i love you, not as my soul mate. i love you, not the way i love chocolate. i love you, not the way i love my mother. in greek there are four distinct words for love - agápe, unconditional; éros, passionate; philía, friendship; and storgē, affectionate - and yet I can’t find a word to properly convey this feeling. weeks later when you run into him on the bus you’re taken aback when, instead of your nickname, he addresses to you like everyone else… “hey allie”. ask how he is doing, get a few tid-bits and updates. you ask about work, about family, and even about her. you really just want to make sure he is doing alright. 

losing someone for whom you cared so deeply for is just as destabilizing, humiliating and cliche as they tell you. what’s even more cliche is that failed relationships offer an unmatched learning experience. there is something to be said about coming out on the other side, that moment you realize your scars have healed. be grateful for the things you were able to learn about yourself. you’re almost relieved to know that you can feel and hurt in a way you didn’t know was possible. relieved to know that you can overcome, forgive, and move on. realize your resilience, realize your strength, and realize that you are now a better person.

surviving a break-up doesn’t mean you hit the delete button on all of your memories and moments. there will always be sounds, smells, days, and places that make you think of him. acknowledge that what is no longer right for you once was exactly what you needed. appreciate the intangible memories, the way you learned what love was supposed to feel like, what trust and honesty sounded like.

stumble across an old email where he reminded you that you’d always be his greatest friend. close the computer and walk away into the kitchen. when you turn the faucet on to do the dishes, tears flood your eyes, roll down your cheeks into the sink and down the drain. life is made up entirely of loving and losing isn’t it? turn off the water, wipe your eyes and walk away. it won’t be easy if it happens again, but at least I’ll know I have it in me to survive. 



Hashtags We Need To Stop

Allow me to be meta for a minute. I know using social media to point out how people are using social media wrong is totally fetch, but I think we could all use a little refresher. Hashtags are used to categorize your status in a searchable group. This makes sense when you are attending an event or commenting on a topic that other people would be interested in searching for. This doesn’t make sense when you are uploading pictures of your uterus or the cheetos you ate for lunch and pairing it with any of the following:

  • #Selfy / #GPOY - We all need an updated avatar but tagging it ensures that you’ll be lumped into a searchable stash of attention-starved girls for any creep to scroll through. Ew.
  • #Emo - Save it for your diary. And no, twitter is not your diary. 
  • #WhiteGirlProblems - Too many people link this to things that have nothing to do with race and more to do with the fact that they think their whiny, lazy privilege is humorous.
  • #Overshare / #TMI - Yeah, you’re probably right, so just don’t.
  • #Foodie - A picture of food does not make you a foodie. Just like a picture of your face does not make you a #model
  •  #Shit______Say - I don’t care what the blank is: dogs, DILFS, one-legged prostitutes, or dead celebrities, this one is so overdone that they actually make me want to unfollow you. Ok, I lied, maybe I want to hear more about what DILFS say… go on.
  • #cats #cat #katz #kittens #lolcat #catsofinstagram #cutecats #iphonephotographycats - Dammit, now you look desperate as shit and you’ll probably only get like 3 followers with the amount of people you loose with that one. Hashtag overloads don’t look good on anyone.
  • #myboyfriendisthesweetestthingeverrr #lolthisissofunny #whatididtoday #hangingoutatthegynecologist - Stop with the hashtag sentences already. It doesn’t even make sense. No one is going to search for it, you aren’t part of a cool club like #emo or #gpoy so what’s the point?
  • No, absolutely NO hashtags allowed on Facebook.




The Lady Dictionary

What All Those Ladywords Really Mean via Buzzfeed