JDate owes me a husband. I’ve paid them more than a thousand dollars, not to mention at least two hundred hours of dating time–this doesn’t include prep time of pedicures, waxing and therapy. If dating were tax deductible I could write off half my life. Ergo, I must meet someone on JDate.
I was the guy you went out with when the guy you really cared about had broken your heart.
I vaguely recalled something about my school’s ‘No Fraternization’ policy, but agreed to pay a visit to my twenty-two-year-old Russian-Greek student’s home.
It's Valentine's week; get ready! Haha. Narratively kicks things off with seven rousing tales of dating in New York City, the warmest and most loving city of all. Enjoy!