To the Men I’ve Dated

In honor of my upcoming move to Bangladesh (land of far fewer dating opportunities), some seasonal highlights of the past year:

Summer of the Israeli Writer
Sure, he was also a teacher, but with that smirk and sharp wit, he always struck me as a drinking problem away from embodying a modern-day Hemingway. He was intoxicatingly comfortable in his own skin, which could explain why I kept coming back for more. However I quickly learned that though he met all the criteria on the list, we were still not right for each other.

We simmered and sparred. After the battle of the banter ended—as if we had deemed the other a worthy foe—we parted ways with respect and perhaps even, affection.

Autumn of the Nice Jewish Boy
Like a true anthropologist, he reveled in my quirks. I found his own idiosyncrasies at best mildly amusing. Initially it seemed we couldn’t be more different, but slowly, we shifted. He had a stillness that cooled my anxiety. Like tentative dance partners, we found a rhythm that worked—at least for awhile. Still, I wasn’t willing to throw out my dance card.

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Fuck him. Is he a guy in his 20s? Then he’s the least significant type of person on the planet. A male in their 20s? Run in the opposite direction. Nothing he says matters; his fears, his hopes, his dreams are garbage. Men in their 20s are the worst thing happening on our planet.

Rob Delaney (via lauraolin)

Oh, Rob. 

(Reblogged from lauraolin)

A good-looking guy walks into the cafe with his friend who has an adorable black miniature schnauzer in tow. I keep glancing at the handsome gentleman but am mostly entranced by the puppy.

“Cute dog,” I say as they collect their coffee to go.

“Thanks.” One last shy smile.

After they leave, I mutter, “I once dated a guy for his schnauzer, and that is not a euphemism.”

(Reblogged from fuckiminmy20s)

Don’t get raped over there.

At the end of July I’m moving to Bangladesh for a year-long fellowship at a women’s college. It will be my first time living in a non-Western country.

The Lebanese Spy was generally supportive of this new development though he expressed multiple concerns about my safety. One afternoon while walking down the street, he turned to me out of the blue and announced, “I’m going to teach you how to use a knife.” As a former military officer, he’s certainly well-qualified to teach me the finer points of self-defense, yet I still burst out laughing.

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Get Lucky

I sauntered into dinner last night listening to Daft Punk’s newest. You should have seen the look in his eyes—wish I could bottle it for other less lucky evenings. 

(Spent the night in Oakland; still made it back to San Francisco before 8am for Bay to Breakers. Like a champion.)

Eight Reasons I Should Break Up With Him

I need to end things with the Lebanese Spy. Here’s why.

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We have the Israeli gentleman to thank for introducing me to this hipster sex jam.

(Source: Spotify)