God, I miss those days. It was frustrating and fun. I’d go out on Saturday night and inevitably I would wind up a few days later with some voicemail from a guy whose name ended in Y, with a New York accent, telling me to call him. Vanessa, a few cocktails in, favored the Easterners.

I’m too much of an old soul to deal with the bullshit of dating these days. But, still, I do it….