It’s Wednesday, so I’m writing about relationships, sex, and dating. Or, today, the lack thereof. Please, if you watch 30 Rock, understand that this is best read if you think of it being read to you by Liz Lemmon. Disclaimer: This is not a plea for a date, either. You faceless, beautiful Internet, you.
Last year, I was standing in the liminal space between Indian and Eastern European imported foods in the local grocer when the remnant of my relational sanity broke.
There it was, in the harsh light of fluorescent overheads: an emailed save the date on my iPhone, which detailed the location of the wedding, that a reception would follow, and that I needed to indicate if I was to be “1″ or “+1″.
That’s right. It was a +1 attack.
Those of you non-singles out there may have been non-single long enough that you have forgotten what a +1 attack is. It is what happens when you reach a certain age, typically in your early twenties, when all the people you thought would never get married are suddenly, in fact, getting married. They then, for reasons that you can only suppose have something to do with the fact that you have a good eye and shop at Neiman Marcus, invite you to their wedding.
You and, if you have one to bring, a guest. Continue Reading…



