It’s funny: when I was single, articles about Being Single poured out of me… one second I was having a coffee out in the city to feel a little less alone, and then bam: there was a thousand words about #TheSingleLife, typed up in a Word doc as if by magic. Now that I’ve been in a relationship for 3 years, you’d think I’d write about that instead. But I don’t. Maybe it’s because I’m worried I’ll jinx myself by flooding the internet with articles about being in love, only to get dumped 3 months later and end up hating myself for all the permanent remnants I left behind. Maybe it’s because it’s because when you’re happy, your natural inclination isn’t too turn to a laptop, but to the person who’s making you happy. Maybe I’m just lame and undisciplined and not making enough time to write anymore.
And yet, here’s a new article for Thought Catalog about being in a relationship that works. Because whatever I’m doing is working right now, and my affection runneth over enough that I decided to say, “fuck the jinx, and fuck being too lazy to write, here’s a thousand words on what it’s like to be happy.” Hope you like it.
Nothing puts such a strong spotlight on the aging process quite like the holidays. Over are the days of asking for toys and games, replaced instead by the basic necessities you haven’t quite figured out how to buy for yourself like a real adult would. “A 20-Something’s Letter to Santa” is a satirical open letter to Santa Claus concerning our generation’s shifting needs this holiday season — and it’s up here on Huffpost Comedy.
Wrote this article about the time I learned the truth about sex AND Santa in the same night back in 2011 (how time flies!) and had it touched up & republished on Huffington Post today… just in time for the holidays! (*Events contained within are all true and unembellished. Sadly for me.)
When you’re just starting to see someone new, it feels like every day presents a choice, a fork in the road: keep walking toward Relationshipville, or take a detour through Breakuptown and pick up someone new. And sometimes, you get so lost along the way, that you’re not sure where you’re headed at all… and that’s OK. As my new article for Thought Catalog explains, when it comes to relationships, you don’t always have to know where you’re going.
Once upon a time, I was a 23-year-old virgin. Now, I know that’s not insanely old, I don’t have anything on that 40-year-old virgin they made the movie about, but it *is* older than most people. According to a sex survey conducted by ABC, only 3% of Americans over the age of 22 are still chaste, and everyone knows that when you’re suffering through extra years of virginity you multiply those years by seven (as in dog-years), so actually I was, like, a 52-year-old virgin, so that movie should have really been made about me.