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A Single Girl's Guide to Being Alone in a Pandemic

Sex and the City has exactly 3 perfect scenes:  1. When Charlotte tells the girls maybe they are each other’s soulmates and the men they date are just people to have fun with; 2. When Steve calls Miranda in the middle of the night to tell her to look at the full moon;  3. When Miranda and Carrie leave an engagement party full of couples called “Two Souls, One Thought” and bitch about it.  The dialogue from the Miranda and Carrie scene gets branded on all singles with a hot iron in an underground secret ceremony when they reach 26. It goes as follows:   M: “We were the only single people in there.” C: “Miranda, we’re the only single people everywhere.” M: “Are you telling me you didn’t see all those “don’t worry, you’ll find someone” looks?” C: “Nope, didn’t see them.” M: “Society views single people our age as sad and pathetic, and I don’t need that judgement hanging over my head, so I go on the offensive and make them laugh.” C: “You know, sometimes I thi...
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Threadbare

I look down at myself in the shower, and I am crooked yet again. My right knee is collapsed into my left one, right hip sagging, lower back concaved, both feet turning in toward each other. Lately, I’ve noticed my body always folds into itself in this same way. While I have tried to pay attention and undo my knees when they collapse into one another like this, I haven’t had much luck. Even in the shower, my body finds a way to come back to its crumpled comfort zone.  Aging, like most tried to warn us, has come with a few twists and turns: knees collapsing into one another, a bit of grumpiness that never fully dissipates, weird stomach gurgling at inconvenient hours, frequent existential crises that can turn swiftly from overwhelming emotion to overwhelming apathy. If I could sum up the start of my 26th year in song, it would be part “Hand in My Pocket” by Alanis Morrisette part “Maybe This Time” by Liza Minnelli part “I’m Like a Bird” by Nelly Furtado and part “Closer to F...

Crescent Moon

Online dating apps and I have a tumultuous relationship. I am still recovering from my experience on Bumble BFF, which is the version of the dating app meant to help you find friends rather than romantic interests. I had been reluctant to the idea, but after a phone call with my best friend in which he yell-told me that I am “getting in my own way” and that I need to take my social life “into my own hands”, I tentatively re-downloaded the Bumble app and switched it into BFF mode. Because I was searching for friends rather than a romantic partner, I swiped right on every picture I saw, figuring I might as well give myself options. There were only 37 photos total, so I quickly finished looking through them all. Then I waited. 48-hours later I remained 0 for 37. Being fully rejected on Bumble BFF is a very particular experience I wish upon no one. I deleted the app immediately after. A few months later, curiosity spawned by the momentary lull between midterms and final...

Remedy

It’s Saturday night. I have watched six episodes of a sitcom I shouldn’t love as much as I do, and the most recent episode made me cry in my typical fit of, “I JUST LOVE LOVE.” On my left lies a plate littered with crumbs and remaining slivers of my dignity. Earlier in the evening, I had impulsively baked a pan of cornbread. What began as a single slice fresh out of the oven quickly evolved into four slices lathered in butter, sweetened with honey, and consumed in bed. I drag my finger through the lingering drizzles of honey, pulling the osmosis of salt and sugar to my lips. My phone vibrates, and I lurch toward it in excitement. I look at my screen and read: “ECU BANK: LOW BALANCE ALERT”. Well fuck you too, iPhone. I wonder, if Webster ever adds photos and phrases to its dictionary, will a picture of me in this moment appear under the colloquialism, “oh, honey”? In an attempt to boost my morale, I tell myself this isn’t the worst “oh, honey” moment I’ve had. There was… · ...