Tag Archives: A History of Dating

A History of Dating: The Manitus and O – Chapter 3

Chapter 3 in the series A History of Dating. Click the link to catch up.

She was home.

She decided she needed some time, despite having gained perspective and accepted the break up. She needed to pick up the pieces, and reassemble them into something whole so she declared a Man-Hiatus, or Maniatus for short.


She filled her time with work, with books, with movies and friends. With Sex & the City episodes and 2-for-1 martinis.

She didn’t go out much on the weekends, and when she did, she stayed huddled in the circle of friends she came with. She as afraid to branch out. She was afraid to stop the progress of working on rebuilding herself.

It was positive. And positively tragic… Until she met O.

Her night began assembling an outfit inspired by Madonna for Halloween. With leggings, three too many pairs of legwarmers, an oversized t-shirt, and numerous vodka sodas, she was feeling invincible. She went out with friends with no intentions of meeting anyone. Just some lighthearted flirting – this was maniatus time after all.

After a bottle of Prosecco, some old school jams (read: Jodeci), a house party that came to a rousing end with a visit from the police, more drinks, a cab ride downtown, then back uptown, and then an open tab at a bar where Miley Cirus played more than Beyonce… she was feeling ready(?).

She’d just finished doing the running man in a circle of random people when she noticed a man at the bar starring at her with a smirk.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” she slurred through the cocktails.

“I’m just admiring the view” … maniatus was officially over.

O was everything she needed. An extra large chunk of muscle that loved to cuddle and coddle. He was sweet, though not necessarily smart, but he as a model so it was okay. She couldn’t go anywhere without receiving a text asking how her day was. She was beaming… And ignoring the unfortunate bits.

She wasn’t looking for more than he was offering, and she used him to regain her comfort spending time with men. But with every use of the word “baby” and “honey” and “sweetie” she was falling further and further in to the vortex called rebound.

Until one morning he attempted a real conversation that began and ended with one phrase from him: Did you really read ALL those books?

She glanced at her bookshelf, which housed only a small selection of her recently read pieces of literature and mumbled something quickly about having a brunch date and that he should go.

She never saw him again.

A History of Dating: Getting Over… Wait, Who? – Chapter 2

Take a moment and refresh your memories – I wrote this with the intention of starting a series. Here is Chapter 2: Getting Over… Wait, Who?

On the corner of 56 & 6th, she watched him dart through traffic, feeling her hands shake.She hopped on the uptown train and met her girls for the debrief. As she told what she now refers to as “the tale of 56th & 6th”, she watched them all drop their jaws in disbelief.

You don’t need him! One would interject.
What an asshole! Another would add.
Wait, what’s his name again? Another would slip in with a smirk, thinking it was helpful.

And it was! She left dinner slightly drunk and a little empowered.
Until she got home to the smell of his cologne on her pillows.


She cried for days.
She found herself at brunch the next day at the beginning stages of the motions of a break up.

Step 1: Sadness

How do you feel? Her girl asked her at brunch the next weekend.
Look at her. She’s miserable. Another answered before she could.

Her eyes were dark, watery, and swollen. Her nose red, her purse filled with a jumbo pack of travel sized tissues. She cried over brunch, she cried over drinks, she cried when her roommates were cooking in the kitchen across the hall.

Step 2: Denial

She began to think he would call, that he’d facebook her, that he’d text or show up at her door. She would wait for silly things that don’t adhere to her generation – like a hand written love letter. Or even a love email. She was convinced it’d come. She didn’t care that it never would.

Step 3: Hatred

True to form, she began to hate. It wasn’t because of the words he said or the actions he took as he darted across 56th & 6th. It was because in this melodramatic state of a break up, hatred was the only way she felt she could stay alive.

Step 4: Acceptance

Acceptance was not something she came to knowingly or on her own, but by surprise with the help of her girlfriends. She glanced at herself in the mirror one day and recognized her face. It was lacking the swollen eyes, it was lacking the red nose, and it had a trace of a smile.

She was home.


Everyone goes through the motions of a break up differently. But usually, everyone ends up looking like this chick and experiencing some form of the above.

It’s never pretty. But what comes next usually is…

Suburban Girl Reflects: A History of Dating – Chapter 1

She met him one hot summer day in Central Park for a picnic. She was brought by a friend who was brought by another friend to attend his picnic, which was a mishmash of random people and their… friends.

She’d heard about him before. “You’re going to love this guy,” they told her. And they meant it in the scary way, not in the new best friend way. She was nervous and excited and skeptical. She spotted him right away: tall and handsome with a beautiful smile and a full laugh.

She knew they were right when she slipped in mud and dirtied her favorite ballet slippers. He jumped up, held her hand as he tried to brush away the mud while she balanced on one foot. Damsel in distress was her specialty, and it always worked wonders.

As the crowd settled and people began to drink, she watched him intently. He was everything she thought she needed and boasted a brilliant accent to boot. She was smitten, and later found out he was too.

“See this picture?” he said to her in bed a month later.
“Oh my gosh, is this from the picnic?” she sounded genuinely surprised.
“I look at it every day” he smiled as he wrapped her up into his arms.

She was warm with feelings for him, though unclear exactly what they meant. He had infiltrated her group of friends and she did his as well. She and he were inseparable through the summer, into the fall, and cuddled up through winter; giddy about the new year.

Then, things started to shift. “I hate I’m smaller than you,” he would say under his breath, cursing his naturally thin physique. She loved that about him – he was tall and lanky with long arms that fit perfectly around her.

“I hate that you have a job and I’m unemployed,” he would say after drinks at dinner. She, feeling the need to protect him, would say she’d give anything for his freedom. She’d help him forget through kisses and hugs. She’d change the subject to something else.

“I’m actually just a big asshole. You really have no idea.” She just stared at him; not sure how to respond at all.

On New Years Eve they had separate plans, which she was grateful for. “I need to be more grounded in my girlfriends,” she told one of them as they dressed for a house party. She hid behind that excuse, but she was anxious and uncomfortable. A feeling in her stomach told her there was something more.

They broke up in January after several tearful phone calls and a screaming match on 56th & 6th during rush hour foot traffic.

Heartbroken, she ran through a list of all the things she’d done for him during two and a half seasons together. “YOU did those things because you wanted to!” he shouted back, leaving her both speechless and confused. As she stood there, wide (and dry) eyed, he just walked away. On the corner of 56 & 6th, she watched him dart through traffic, feeling her hands shake.


Editor’s Note: I’ve been doing some reflection on my previous relationships – remembering what I’ve been through, what I’ve grown from, what was entertaining, what was heartbreaking. Still very poignant for me, I thought this could be a nice series for the blog. I hope you enjoy. Xx.

Suburban Girl Contemplates: Confidence in Dating

In 2005 she fell in love. Just she and him, happy and running hand in hand through a city she was discovering while head over heels. Everything was light and beautiful and bright. All was right when she was with him.
Saying goodbye because of distance was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. “It’ll make you stronger,” she was told. I only feel weaker, she would think as she tortured herself with fond memories, emails, photographs, and sad love songs. She would mask her sadness in meaningless sex, and hug herself at night when she was alone. She would embark on half-relationships with men who were clearly wrong; forcing bad relationships that ended in explosions leaving her damaged. She listened to Split Screen Sadness and Troubles on repeat.

Now, she finds herself exploring the concept of dating with extreme fear and hesitation. The more she meets men who seem to show genuine interest, the more scared she becomes. She bides her time and goes along for the ride, waiting for the other shoe to drop in every circumstance. She’s still working through the healing process – still trying to transfer confidence from her savings account to her checking.
She’s listening to this on repeat:

And smiling.