How to Love

Being a New Yorker is hard. 
Being a single female in New York is harder.
But being a skeptical, jaded, single, New York City girl with an open mind about love is the hardest.

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The idea of opening your heart and finding love - any kind of love - is hard to fathom. This includes the idea of love, a potential future of love, flirting your way into love... a lovah... alladem. All I'm saying is if you've been in love (big love) and you've been hurt (which is everyone), then it's nearly impossible to drop your guard, open up your heart and let someone new in.

Case in point - one of my lovely girl friends. She's a super kind, super gorgeous girl with a huge badonkadonk and a skinny waist and a ton of love to give. And she's extra single. Why? She's not sure and neither am I. But then one day over a few glasses of chianti she told me "I don't let guys touch me on the first date."

"Not even hold your hand?" I shouted.

"No!"

"What do you mean, 'no'!?" Now, I should state that this conversation went around in more circles than necessary - likely due to the chianti. 

"I don't let guys touch me because all of that is intimate. Holding my hand is very intimate." I was a little dumbstruck. I guess I understood her point, but my first thought was who used to hold your hand and why was it so damn intimate. I immediately asked her if she'd allow a first kiss - arguably the best part of any evening with a new guy after a fun date.

"No!"

"No??!!!!? Ghurl, please!" Clearly, we dissolved into giggles here but through the laughter she told me she was absolutely serious. That if any man touched her on a first date, or a second or even a third, she'd cut them off and move onto the next one. 



What is it about girls and our inability to let go and open up? While we're working on saving ourselves from getting hurt again, we're also becoming brilliant at self-sabotage.

Personally, I have one of the best leave me alone side eyes this side of the Hudson, but it might be deterring perfectly fine men from coming up and saying hello. Demetria Lucas of A Belle in Brooklyn has devoted part of her debut book to helping women open up. It involves something as simple as a smile. So I've been getting my practice on to see if it really does work.

"Damn, you ladies and your boots. Stompin' all over my damn heart," a man said to me on the A train platform at West 4th Street on Monday evening. I turned my head and smiled at him, taking the time to size him up. Nothing about him was my type, but what's really in a type anyway? 

"Oh man, and that smile! Just damn." And with that he smiled, tipped his hat, and walked away.

Now what was so hard about that?


Unless you're dense or not of this generation, you understand the title of this post is inspired by this song. 

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