Somehow, despite being a multitime history award winner, I am just now learning about the Carpathia. The ship that melted its own boilers in an unimaginable effort to reach the Titanic as quickly as possible while it sank. This ship was the first responder to the Titanic SOS. It was four hours away from the Titanic, it had a top speed of 14 knots, it had to navigate the same ice field that sank the Titanic, and the anticipated journey to it was supposed to be four hours. Yet

An ego is a terrible thing to let get in your way. Today I was driving back from yet another K-Pop Demon Hunters party. Thank God for the K-Pop Demon Hunters parties. I'm looking forward to inviting everyone to my housewarming. Thanks to the K-pop. Demon hunters parties.  I was talking to the K-Pop Demon Hunters group for today. Daniela (not to be confused with Dani), Nina, and Yiran. We had a 53 minute drive back from the party and we were itching to fail the Bechtdal test.

Unlike many people in the Jersey City and NYC, I'm qualified to tell you who does a great manicure because I'm from South Florida. We are serious about beauty in South Florida. No boring "clean girl" aesthetic, no monochrome, no slick backs; in South Florida, we do Diva. In Jersey City and NYC, beauty providers that provide for Divas are are to find. I was looking for a nail tech that had it all:  •appointments  •a private or semi private space  •lots of experience doing intr

For most of my life, my strategy was silence. Not the peaceful kind. The kind where you slowly back out of the room without saying goodbye, hoping no one notices the shape you leave behind. I called it self preservation. I called it maturity. I told myself that not reacting was the same as being evolved. But really, I was ghosting my own life. Recently, something shifted. I stopped vanishing and started speaking. I learned that one of my aunts had belittled my experience of b

When my friends tell me they have IBS, I often wonder “would they have IBS if their boyfriend wasn't such a loser?”. I am a regular pooper, but I also have no soft spot in my heart for people who mistreat me. So, I'm not often in guy wrenching emotional turmoil. Everyone that I know that has developed IBS, is soft for people that are junk food for the soul. Friends, boyfriends, and family members. What they don't give a class in at college is that bowel movements are not rand

If I have ever liked you, you'd best to believe you're super odd. Like super odd. You are some combination of the following:  Super offputting despite really trying to interact with people  You have very few friends  You have an unconventional job/ lifestyle You are weirdly fixated on something  You are super soft inside  You are desperate to be seen  You are particular  You are bossy  You are moody  You are desperate to understand normal people  You are strikingly beautiful

My cousin Xel told me something recently that felt less like a comment and more like a clinical observation from a gentle nurse walking you into a padded room. Speaking from experience. 🫰🫰 She said to me, “You don’t believe there’s any man who could actually be right for you.” She said it gently, which is how people speak when they are both loving and correct. That's how Xel always speaks. Xel has been romantic since birth. The kind of person who has always believed in roma

Sometimes I fantasize about never speaking to my family again. Ghosting them if you will... Not in a dramatic, door-slamming way. Not with speeches or ultimatums or long text messages that try to sound calm while bleeding through the screen. I imagine it the way Americans seem to do it so cleanly— I’m done , and then they’re done. No lifelong echo. No ancestral chorus humming in their chest. No constant moral hangover. For them, it appears to be an option. For me, it feels un

I watched this Tik Tok today and felt genuinely inspired. I then remembered a story that a friend once told me about two women in her life who were orbiting the same man. One of them was patient to a fault. She listened endlessly, softened every conflict, and stayed even when she felt herself becoming smaller. She believed love meant understanding him through his worst moments. She was always available. Always forgiving. Always trying. The other woman was the one he called “

NicoTV. Who is NicoTV? I have my theories. I think I know who NicoTV is, but I don't actually know. There are tons of NicoTV accounts and I won't share the actual username on the account for fear of scaring whoever it is, but the "name" on it is NicoTV. NicoTV spent a year and 7 months watching my tik tok account daily, sometimes multiple times a day. I know this from the profile views. I am near certain that I know who it is because once upon a time, a marked the account by

“I think you should get to know me better.”  At first, I thought I said that out of spite. To prove how little he knew and how much I did. I shouldn't say I “thought” because I did say that out of spite. However, most actions are inspired by more than one feeling. The words have been haunting me. Creeping into my consciousness. Sneaking up behind me. It usually takes more time for The Ghost of Conversations Past to bedevil me. I am weary though; too weary to meditate, too wea

I'm not married and that's why I feel qualified to tell you these things. Strong statement, I know, but I'm willing to bet that if you're ages 23-30 in the NYC Metro Area, all your married friends met their partner in college or settled. If they met their partner in college, great. They're an awesome couple with no idea what it's like to date as an adult. If they settled, they're victims of the copium epidemic. If they are the outliers, let me know what prayer they were doing

There was a time when romance lived in the voice. Before dating apps and swipe culture and endless group chats flattened the nuances of communication, there was intention in how men spoke to the women they desired. A softness. A warmth. A clear separation between the way they spoke to friends and the way they spoke to someone they were genuinely drawn to. Somewhere along the way, that art faded. Today, many women are left interacting with men who speak to them with the same e

It has been called to my attention that another woman helped a man "find" my very public and visible blog and instead of telling him what an imbecile he is for not reading it sooner. Instead of telling him how his behavior is deserving of what was written about him. Instead of seeing that she certainly would speak this freely about a guy doing what he was doing if she had the guts to. She brought it to him like a begging dog waiting for a treat. Even Curly, $@719's pet friend

This blog is not and never has been a secret. I've actually never kept my blog a secret from any man ever. It is my social media handle, I post the stuff I write on main, and I talk to everyone in it about it. Yet, without fail, every man featured in it doesn't read it until I've started showing signs of resentment towards them. I send them excerpts that I think they'll like, I do them the respect of not using their real names (until I despise them and they become "some men")

If you ever find yourself wondering where you stand with me, you don’t need to ask. You don’t need to guess. You certainly don’t need to send a “hey” at 11:47 p.m. like a man who just remembered his plant needs water. You only need to read my writing. My prose is a barometer of respect, emotional meteorology at its finest. When the forecast turns cloudy, you’ll see it in the syntax, the tone, the subtle choice to start referring to you as “someone” instead of “Matthew” (Matt

I’ve been sick for like two weeks and because of that I've been out of routine. What’s my routine? Day 10 of illness. Miss Komal said "what! You are sick look at your eyes. Go away from me!" I wake up between 8 and 10 am. Usually by 9:15 I brush my teeth, brush my hair, and do my skin care Then, I drink my bone broth and/or low pasteurized, A2, cream-on-top whole milk and Magic Spoon Then, I put on my gym clothes, harness Arneis (if he’s with me), then we walk to Warehouse. A

Every time I've ever had a dating app, it is flooded with the palest men of "color" imaginable swiping on me. Truly paper white men that look like what Kylie Jenner brought to her surgeon and that's the only way you know they're not actually white. Like they have ethnic features for sure, but if you put them in the sun, they don't sweat, they sparkle. You know? My other dark skinned friends seem to experience similar. Shul, Dani, and I are but young racers trying to best Gho

Another day, another afterwork cocktail with Dani. Blessings. I cannot complain. I cannot complain about the quality of my life at least because it's awesome. I work every day with one of my best friends for only 90 min a day, I own a successful business, I'm surrounded by loving friends and family, I have a condo on top of the PATH, and I'm one of God's favorite people. Literally it's crazy how good it is and I attribute that good fortune to being a quality person. I truly

I'm article farming today. That's what Matthew would call it. I'm trying to come up with things to write on my dating blog as someone who doesn't date. We have resorted to eating our horses- Alexander Hamilton; "Hamilton" I was sitting on my couch today thinking "I should really have gotten a rishta or something" and it came to me that I probably am not the only person that thinks this. I also owe an article about the difficulty of dating in NYC to a certain speed dating comp