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A while back I wrote about why I never want to live with someone ever again. I still do love living alone, having my own space, doing my own thing. But, I do hope to find someone and get married someday. And, sometimes, it would be nice to have someone else there. Someone to come home to. Someone to talk to. Someone to cuddle with. Someone to share life with. Someone to share responsibilities with. Someone to do the dishes. Someone to clean the toilet. Someone to fix things. Someone to do all that other crap I don't want to...

He asked me if I wanted to go to play dodgeball. The answer was no. No, I did not want to play dodgeball. I haven't played dodgeball in at least 20 years and I'm confident that all I did then was cower in the corner. I mean, I'm pretty much the least athletic person I know. Plus, I bruise easily. But, I suppose, you can't complain that you never go on dates and then say no to a date. Right? Even if that date involves having a room full of people continuously throw large heavy objects at you. So, I said yes. And I...

I went on a date last week. I'll wait while you pick up your jaw from the floor. Better? OK. Moving on. So, I went on a date last week. We met on Tinder and he asked me out right away. So we met for dinner and drinks at a bar down the block from me. And, in the course of conversation, I managed to say...

If you asked him, he'd tell you that I cry at everything. And, I suppose, in some ways, that's true. Because the girl he met did cry at everything. The girl he met was timid, shy, anxious, innocent, naive, emotionally unstable. Crying was her knee-jerk reaction to anything, everything she couldn't handle. And there were a lot of things she couldn't handle....

I'm single. Very very single. Truth is, I've been single for a long time: I broke up with my last actual boyfriend in 2003. No, I didn't misplace a one there. I said 2003. He's now married and lives in the suburbs with a kid and I'm totally happy for him and all that crap. And yes, if you've been reading for a while, I have had my share of "relationships." But those have been mostly men I've met while traveling, temporary things, the longest being two weeks and the shortest probably a few hours. They weren't boyfriends, they weren't actual relationship...

Speed dating is still a thing. Apparently. I mean, I know it was a big thing in 2003, maybe, before all this internet dating came about. But in an age of OK Cupid and Tinder, where you don’t even have to leave your couch to meet a man, where all you have to do to find someone interested in you is swipe one little index finger right, actually having forced conversations with a room full of strangers in a public place just seems like an anomaly....

"Fuck the future. It would've been nice to have you in my present for a little while." A heart in my hot chocolate at Little Goat. If I'm going to be alone, I'm going to need chocolate.   I had been drunk the night before receiving that message, sitting outside a hostel in Laos at god knows what hour, after dodging another backpacker who kept trying to kiss me and take me back to his hotel room. Instead I broke free and walked home, alone, got out my laptop, and wrote to a boy I'd met at a hostel in Vietnam a few...

I already never wanted to leave. I'd only been in Galway for a couple of hours and had only made it down the main stretch of restaurants and shops. But I felt like I could stay there forever, trying out different pubs, listening to the live music that changed every few feet, drinking Guinness and Bulmers at a wooden bar, talking to some of the friendliest people in the world. There was something about the place. The way the light fell, creating dramatic shadows that stretched the full length of the blocks. The way rain water pooled in the crevices of the...

It wasn't love at first sight. Of course, it rarely is. I arrived in Bogota on a Sunday afternoon, after an 8-hour bus ride from San Gil, and opted for a too-expensive taxi into town. Pointing to one of the recommended hostels in my Lonely Planet, I told the taxi driver, "Aqui." On the way, as we drove through the city, he reached back and locked my door and pointed to the other side for me to lock that one too. Watching out the window everything seemed slightly deserted, slightly dreary. When we arrived at the address in my guidebook, down one of...

1. I am not drinking tonight. I arrived in Bocas del Toro on the Fourth of July. In the morning, in Puerto Viejo, I watched Joey Chestnut break his hot dog eating record with the help of a vpn, a borrowed cable login, and espn.com, and I found myself missing home. Though, which home that was I'm not sure. And I realized that the two places in the world I wished I could be, no longer ever would be. I wished I was at Coney Island, which will never be the same because in this past year two of my favorite...