MEDS OF MANHATTAN
I’ve been thinking…we need to talk. This has actually been brewing for awhile, but it came to a head the other day. An editor and I were having a little post-mortem outside of the office about the piece I’d published the night before. You know the one. Remember? A few weeks back, you kept me company during a particularly nasty stretch, when I only got four hours of sleep over, what was it, three days? Almost three days. I know, I know: Far from the first time you’ve saved my ass, especially as far as deadlines go. But this time, it was different.
If you want to join us in the new romantic order, you must first accept this: You live in a postdating society.
There will be no dates.
There will be “nondates”–ambiguous drinks, overwrought g-chats, cheeks unexpectedly flushed over coffee with a co-worker. You will not have a boyfriend, but your inboxes will overflow with text Read More
First-time authors looking for a book deal could do worse than to have a piece published in Modern Love, the New York Times Sunday Styles column that tends to provoke eye-rolling among the chattering classes—if they admit to reading the thing at all. But since it started, in 2004, with The Bastard on the Couch Read More