Jack-o-lanterns And Lattes

“I just wanna jump in a big pile of leaves and snow,” said I. In the intense oven-like heat, I felt more like a roasted chicken than a smiling polar bear. However, the loving memories of fall brought a sentimental tear to my eye.

In New York, fall isn’t simply about golden and orange leaves. It represents “coming out of the closet.” The coming out ceremony, involves my sweater and cardigan collection. After months of hibernating, the couture was ready to hit the fashion forward sidewalks.

Stepping out of my modest Manhattan apartment and feeling that crisp cold air was inspiring. Not only was it ideal outside, but also the fashion was better. From the concrete to the subway, everyone was dressed in their fall best. However, I still needed that special something to really represent the change of season.

“Pumpkin spice lattes are back,” proclaimed a friend. As, I nearly fell out of my chair in glee; a tear fell from my cheek. After finding out about the pumpkin spice comeback, I quickly joined the caffeinated bandwagon.

I made the trek to Starbucks and took the first sip. It was quite sweet, sickeningly sweet and I loved it. At the moment, fall had officially arrived. Goodbye humidity, hello Halloween and Thanksgiving madness.

Love In Gotham

80’s love ballads and the supermarket dairy aisle have given the world plenty of cheesy moments. Unfortunately, going on a date rarely comes with complimentary cheddar cheese balls.

However, those magical songs from the era of leg warmers, subconsciously inspires singletons to find romance. While listening to a touching ballad, on the less than romantic concrete of 14th street, I waited for my life to turn into an 80’s love ballad.

(Surprise, surprise I was on a okcupid date) I waited patiently for my fellow to arrive, while also practicing my “I am not nervous about this date” face.┬áHe arrived in his business suit. We greeted each other. Something was missing. In the grand traditions of my dates, I suggested we go out for Chinese food.

Bravely, I indulged in an extra spicy, chili chicken as we talked. It was good conversation about the usual shit, living in New York, travel, politics and our hometown.

Something was still missing. After bonding over TUMS, we took a walk around the West Village. The neighborhood’s perfectly appointed brownstones would’ve been an ideal place for a first kiss.

Instead, we kept on walking. I walked to him the F train. We hugged and that was it. He was on perfect on paper, but something was still missing.

The next night, I took an evening walk along Central Park West. I passed a bearded fellow with an adorable puppy. We made eye contact. He looked away and stared back again. A blast of electro-shock hit my very core. The bolt of electricity was quite powerful. As I made eye contact with the ideal New York mate, I was in amazement. He crossed the street and I made my way home, without a date. The electro-shock persisted.

“That’s it,” I said to myself. “Last night’s date was missing that spark, which makes my brain explode with rainbow colored fireworks. The mystery had been solved. Instead of going back online to look for a date, I headed to Trader Joes, since I was looking for that cheesy moment in the dairy aisle.