Coffee and a Conversation
As Told Over Brunch is a home for intelligent discourse from the twenty-something perspective - so the stuff you gossip about over mimosas on Sunday morning or over takeout on your friend's couch when happy hour ends too early. We love chatting about our lives, whether it be the relationships we’re building (or destroying), lessons we've learned at work, struggles at school, growing pains we've felt, or even the food we’re talking over.
As someone who loves and values efficiency and a nice succession of plans that are realistic, it's easy for me to forget to actually enjoy what I'm doing. As I'm running from work to the gym to a volunteer event and then back home to have dinner with my boyfriend, I forget that everything I'm doing is supposed to be fun.
Read MoreI’m a 29-year-old bachelorette who’s not ready to get married yet. Not wanting to be someone’s wife can be problematic in a world that often defines a woman’s status by a ring on her finger and having a serious significant other in the picture. God forbid you be single, whole on your own, and out here living your best life… you may worry or threaten people with your singleness and bachelorette lifestyle.
This is not to mention the concerns and pressures from different family members, friends, and even acquaintances who often ask, “Why are you still single?”
“Why do you care?” is what I’d like to know. The pressure. The questions. The comparisons.
Read MoreOne of those things that I did not forget about was the single episode of Netflix’s Dating Around I watched. In it, one of my greatest dating pet peeves occurred and halted any hope of me watching any more episodes.
In the show, a guy goes on five dates with five different women. They’re all interspersed with each other, and then at the end he picks his favorite girl to go back out with for round two.
On both sides of the table, cringy things were said — is that just dating shows in general and I’m out of touch? — but he said one thing that is a TRIGGER for me.
Read MoreA few summers ago, my friend visited me in Richmond. While we lay on the banks of Belle Isle, we discussed our lives and soon discovered there were multiple things we partook in where we could be pigeonholed as being or doing one thing when we really don’t see ourselves that way at all. For example…well, I actually can’t give you an example because they’re all below.
We began to call these our farces. I’m not sure they’re actual farces in the Webster-Miriam sense of the word, but these are the lies we live. Below is a list of superlatives that could be applied to myself, but that I don’t personally associate with (yet I sorta have to):
You could call me a blogger, but I don’t call myself that.
Yes, I run this blog with Sara. And for what it’s worth, I’ve been writing for ATOB for almost two years. So I know why people call me a blogger – I do manage a blog that I co-own – but I’m not…well, maybe I am…but I’m not a blogger.
Read MoreIn late high school, I discovered the value of independence and began to expound its virtue in every facet of my life. Even when I dallied in an extended romance mid-college, I never considered bounding it by such terms as “relationship” or “love” (“low self-esteem” and “self-destructive” would’ve been more apt terms honestly).
Since college, I hadn’t even looked to date. A few years ago, I went on a handful dates to prove probably to myself and friends I could date if I wanted to. I found minimal enjoyment in sharing drinks with strangers I really didn’t care to see again, so I gave that business up fast. I aggressively defended my monk life to family members over the holidays.
Read MoreMy parents came down to Richmond and wanted either nachos or chicken for dinner, so I narrowed down our options to Billy Jack’s, Hot Chick, Continental Westhampton or Weezies. We ended up going to Continental Westhampton, but I couldn’t get over the menu and the gut feeling I had that Hot Chick would be a place for me.
The next day, my boyfriend texted me and told me we should brunch at Hot Chick — which is why we’re together clearly — and we made plans for the next weekend. I read and reread the menu at least once a day until it was finally Sunday.
Read MoreCrepes always make me feel fancy. Whether it’s their elegant French background, or how they’re so delicate, I just feel classy while eating crepes.
However, I felt the opposite of fancy when Cazey and I ended up at Les Crepes in Carytown last weekend. We went out for a walk and anticipated finding food along the way. When we ended up in Carytown, we considered Weezies, then remarked on the closing of 10 Italian Cafe and then we looked up the mighty steps and saw Les Crepes.
Read MoreI once read in a book that said — among many other things — if you don't like cleaning your house, you should just pay someone to do it. And if you want the Audi instead of Honda, buy the flashier option if it'll make you happy.
The benefits of having a nicer car should carefully be weighed before making a huge spending decision. And same for cleaning your house: is it truly something you can't do yourself?
Read More2018 was a busy year for me. I got a new job. And a new car. And a boyfriend. A lot of people got married. I did some freelance work. I even started a book club. I meant to write 100 blog posts that I never finished writing, but this is one that I am fully committed to finishing. It’s a story about trying to overcome possibly the biggest sale I needed to make: the sale of my first car. (That was also a blog post I wanted to write: a proper sendoff to my first car. Despite the boat-likeness of it, and its tendency to give up on the whole driving thing, I have a soft spot for Taurus.) I wanted him to go to a good home.
Read MoreI’ve never been someone who’s attracted to simpletons. I love the dramatic. My favorite movies are tragedies. It should be no surprise then that I pursue the same principles in romance. This here is the story of how I dated a woman for five weeks who broke up with me no less than four times – and I stayed through it all.
Most might assume I have no self-esteem if I’m willing to stay with someone who keeps breaking up with me, but you could also say it’s a sign of someone who doesn’t really care. Sara and I have long heralded the motto of “Do it for the story,” and well, look, I got a story.
“Sheila” and I met on Bumble. If this had been Plenty of Fish or OkCupid, I might have been able to predict the craziness. Instead, we exchanged numbers our first night and never stopped texting.
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