If I Could be Brutally Honest on Tinder

I would say...

I'm 35 going on 36. I can feel my body aging in ways that my parents warned me about but I didn't believe. If I drink more than 2 alcoholic beverages in one night I need to go to sleep immediately for fear of being hungover for more days than drinks I consumed.

I've lived in NYC for 12 years, which means several things, but mostly that I've had a lot of casual sex. Enough to know that I don't want it anymore. I don't want anything casual. I want something serious.

The kind of serious where we laugh together about dumb shit and annoy everyone around us. The kind of serious where I know exactly how you take your coffee, you know that I'm not a morning person, and we both know that the right kind of candy to smuggle into a movie includes Sour Patch Kids and Reese's Pieces.

The kind of serious where within 6 months of dating we move in together and adopt a small-to-medium sized dog that we name something seemingly mundane like Max or Bill, but really he's named after that crazy guy we met that time in Costa Rica whose truck we rode around in all night getting high and eating tacos and well...anyway, you remember.

The kind of serious we where support each other's successes and failures. The kind of serious that isn't so serious at all. It's love.

...But Tinder has a character limit so I guess I'll say:

"I don't have cats. Let's do this."

Here Comes Something

I want to be a kid again. I want to be afraid for only a few seconds at the top. I want to talk myself into leaning forward and letting gravity take me. I WANT TO JUMP.

I'm not a kid anymore. I'm an adult. But that doesn't mean I can't do this it just takes a bit longer. I have to remind myself of this everyday. The only way I want to live is like this fourth grader. 

True to myself. Honest with others. Real. Alive. 

In other news...it's spring and the trees around my neighborhood look like this. I can't not be happy when I see them. I have high hopes for this season and what's to come.