Walter Easterbrook does not make drinks. He creates them. He’s been working behind a bar since he was a little kid, and has perched leg after leg on rung after rung. Working the slop nests. The tourist traps. The denizen lounges. The swanky hotel bars. He knows the customers that walk in, and knows exactly what 
I’ve never watched Grey’s Anatomy, but I think I get it—there’s some guy called McDreamy and some other guy who’s like, McLovesy or something, and McDoeEyes can’t chose between them. And in between it all there’s McCheatsy, McDies, McLetsJustBeFriends and McDoctor. I mean, that’s close enough right? But here’s the thing—I’m pretty sure there’s no character 
Yeah, you heard me. I’ve figured out how to make a relationship work. I’m basically Batman right now but better, even though I don’t have a neat utility belt (I’ll get one though, I swear). That’s not to say I’ve actually employed my theories, or that I’m even capable of being able to fulfill their terms, but I get 
Am I oversexed? How much sex is too much sex? It’s not just me though, is it? We’re all “doing it” just a little bit too much. Right? I love sex. I think sex is wonderful, whether I reach climax or not. It’s fun, raunchy, great exercise and I feel wonderful afterward. What’s not to 
You know The One (You Always Go Back To). This is the person with whom you share two very powerful aphrodisiacs—chemistry and understanding. In my case, I met The One (You Always Go Back To) in the middle of New York’s sweltering summer. We proceeded to spend the next few months throwing down whiskey shots at 
It happens to the best of us. You know what I’m talking about—that one person who captures your imagination. And by imagination, I really mean imagination. This is the person you go crazy over, not because of who they are, but who you think they can be. To generalize, this person probably doesn’t see themselves the 
Happy New Year! Now, which of you had a dirty midnight snog, and which of you stood in the middle of a room of people groping each other, entirely excluded from the exchange of saliva at midnight? It seems that you have either one of two options when ringing in the New Year—kiss someone, or 
I’ve always spoken out quite publicly (ranted on my Twitter) against online dating, and I’ve been poo-pooed by almost everyone for it, even, allegedly, my biggest fan (you know who you are). People always come at me with the classic “don’t knock it until you try it” reasoning, at which point I snidely respond, “I don’t 
I was dumped recently, and along with the advice of my mother to freeze my eggs, a good friend simply said, “There’s plenty of fish in the NY Sea.” And the more distance I get from the dumping, the more I can’t think of a better place in the world to be dumped. Because it’s 
Dating in New York is like dating in a fairytale – all escaping rain to steal kisses on other people’s stoops and holding hands beneath a skyline of Chryslers and Empires. It’s pretty magical right? ERRRRRR, WRONG! Well, not entirely wrong, per se, but not entirely right either, and I’m about to tell you why. 
