This summer, according to Instagram, every single twenty-eight-year-old girl got married. Except for me—and a few of my single girlfriends. “I thought I’d be married at twenty-two,” one of my friends lamented to me the other day on the phone. “And have at least three children by twenty-eight.” Yes, I thought. We all did, didn’t we? That was back when we were ten and twenty-two seemed like several lifetimes away (or at least after a shit ton of summer breaks and Christmases). Now, I can’t . . .
When I was in the third grade my teacher gave us an assignment to come up with an invention. Mine was an innovative, practical, BRILLIANT way to quickly wake people up in the morning. I set an alarm to go off and had my sister, Casey, the “test subject”, lie in bed and pull a string when she heard the beep. The string released Tabasco sauce down a PVC pipe and into her mouth. “You asshole!” she said, popping right up and hitting me. (Casey routinely had her mouth washed out with soap when we . . .
One of my all time favorite romantic comedies is Serendipity. If you aren’t familiar with the film it tells the story of two people Jonathan (John Cusack) and Sara (Kate Beckinsale) who fall for each other one night in New York City. The problem is both are dating other people. Jonathan thinks the night was so magical they should leave their significant others and be together, but Sara suggests they leave it up to destiny. She writes her name and number in a book—Love in the Time of Cholera—and . . .
It’s probably no surprise that as a love story writer, I love going on dates. For years I used to agree to go out with anyone who asked—even when I wasn’t interested. I think it takes guts to ask someone out and I never wanted to turn anyone away who put himself out there. Plus, I find it fascinating to meet new people and love experiencing great moments—even if these moments don’t ultimately lead to a relationship. Over the years, I’ve had to amend that rule slightly when I'm single. While . . .
In my novel, Waiting at Hayden’s, one of my main characters is “ghosted” the day before her wedding by her fiancé. “Ghosting”, for those who aren’t familiar with the term, refers to a romantic partner disappearing suddenly and without an explanation. Excerpt: “She believed it was called ghosting, what he’d done. She’d heard friends at work use the term when describing what happened when men they’d been happily seeing suddenly disappeared from their lives without explanations. Kendall had . . .
I was ready for my last serious relationship to end. And yet, when it did, I still felt a major sense of loss. Part of this is because I’m an incredibly nostalgic person and wish no good phase of life would ever have to come to a close, even when I know it’s time for it to. But more than that, I realized that my life was feeling flat without romance. When I say romance, I don’t mean I missed flowers and grand gestures. Our relationship didn’t have much of all that. What I missed was when . . .