Personal Essays & Journalism
272-Date
Before the landline was obsolete, Nathan and I lived for late night 272-DATE commercials, our city’s own hotline of lust. You had to be 18 or older to call and of course we weren’t, yet I knew to make my voice husky, to claim my name was Veronica, while Nathan knew to call it a cock.
❋
I never fantasized about my future wedding so much as I dreamed of being whisked away on vacation by a hunky dance instructor.
On Dirty Dancing (Wig-Wag)
My “Ghost World” years: Confessions of a teenage AOL catfisher
When I was 15, I had a relationship with a man I’d never met.
I was dating the son of a preacher man and yet I was the unholiest of girls, which was why Ryan liked me, and liked me enough to introduce me to his father.
I Dated Bad Men Till a Bad Man Became President
James wore flip-flops and cargo shorts on our first and only date. I was sporting black denim and breakneck heels and everyone in the bar turned to stare as we glided across the room, two sartorially mismatched strangers romantically matched on the dating app Tinder.