A parting letter to my roaring twenties, conceived on the eve of my 30th birthday (with a glass of tequila in tow).
Oh my twenties
You were a glorious ride
A flash of YOLO moments
And denim shorts that exposed my behind
Of nights that started in a sober air
And ended up with man-tousled hair
First there was New York, the city that never sleeps
Together we have many secrets to keep
Like the time I woke up in Astoria, Queens
With a man who fed me a breakfast of canned beans
Or the older boyfriend who drove a Porsche
And would trick me into making him borscht
Chances are that your decision to click on the title of this post was accompanied by a skeptical scoff. “There she goes again.. What nonsense could she have possibly conjured this time?” you may have thought. After all, as we approach the slippery single zone of cuffing season, it is all too easy to get distracted by daydreams of fireplace cuddles and tandem figure skating sessions, inadvertently pushing yourself into a sad hole of self-pity, or a desperate Bumble binge. As we recently learned the hard way, human beings have a terrible tendency to under-appreciate the now and to make rash decisions in hope of a better future, leading to catastrophic missteps à la nominations of orangutans as presidents. (Slightly off-topic. I just had to say it.) On this day of commercially-induced gratitude, I urge you take a moment to be thankful for the now, wherever you are in your life, because there is always a chance that it could all be way worse. If you happen to be single, I will also be supplying you with reasons.
A few weeks ago, a reader requested that I write a post on the dos and don’ts of dating Russian men. A reader’s wishes is normally my command, and yet this particular one presented a bit of a dilemma. Albeit having spent the initial sixteen years of my life on Russian turf, I have probably dated a total of 1.5 Russian guys in my post-high school life. This is in no way an act of rebellion – trust me, there is nothing I would love more than to bring home a man who would be able to deliberate the (grim) future of Putin’s reign at a Khorosh family dinner. No, it is simply that Russian guys and myself rarely cross paths, for most of them prefer adult restaurants in favor of hipster joints and stay as far from my beloved Nolita as possible. And so, I decided to ask for a little bit of help from my friends.
Jordan Nadler attempts to find an answer to a question that may no longer be relevant in today’s election. For more no-nonsense insights, follow Jordan on Twitter.
“Would you ever date a Republican?” I was recently asked. It struck me as a funny question. The way the person said “Republican” sounded like she had just asked me if I would ever bear-hug a cactus.
This election has seemingly turned Republicans and Democrats into warring clans. It’s like we’re the Jets and the Sharks (obviously the Democrats are the Sharks) except this Godforsaken election has rendered all of us too exhausted to sing. The words “Republican” and “Liberal” have become synonymous with every other negative word in the English language. We have never been more divided, but it’s not politics that we are divided on. This election has so little to do with political theory and so much to do with who we are as people.
In the second installation of our highbrow Marcel Proust collaboration, we delve into the inner psyche of New York-based writer (& DD contributor) Julia Reiss.
Your favorite qualities in yourself: I’m compassionate in both thought and action. My ability to see the humor in just about anything. That, and I’m an excellent cook.
Your favorite qualities in a man: Honesty is, without a doubt, number one. A sense of humor, which inherently belies a certain level of intelligence. And being ambitious, but not in a selfish way.
Deal-breaker in a man: Someone who can’t apologize or admit when they’re wrong.
Maria-Francisca Riaño (Pacha) and Robert Greenwood. Photo by Caroline Owens
Once upon a time on a hot summer night in Paris, I met a whimsical, beautiful girl named Pacha. She had a distinct Frida Kahlo vibe and immediately struck me as one of those smart, cool and genuinely kind people who don’t come around too often. We became fast friends and I attribute some of my best Parisian memories to our escapades (my crazy 28-Shades-of-Gray-themed birthday party included!) Pacha soon left us to pursue her passion for all things activism in New York City. By the time I moved back to New York a few months later, I found her living in Brooklyn, head-over-heels in love with a fellow artist named Robert. It’s great to see your friend in love, but it’s even better to see her in love with somebody who looks at her like she is the most amazing person in the world, which is how Robert looks at Pacha. A few months later, Pacha called me to invite me to their wedding. I barely blinked an eye – some things, no matter how crazy, just seem right.
In a city full of people who pretend to be artists and activists, Pacha and Robert are different, because you know that they are not faking it. These are two people who are truly are committed to making the world a better and more beautiful place. A few weeks ago, my creative partner Caroline and I went to Brooklyn and spent a day with Pacha and Robert and to learn about their modern-day Williamsburg fairytale, which we now bring to you.