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.
At brunch recently, my friend relayed the tale of her roommate who met a guy off Tinder and then proceeded to move him into their apartment. The honeymoon lovers met on a Saturday afternoon, had a wonderful date (apparently), and the next evening the roommate invited him over. He only brought the clothes on his back and an 18-pack of beer. He didn’t leave for the next four days.
I guess we should have been suspicious when he brought so much beer.
Read MoreTwo months ago I went on a quasi-date with "Jeanine." I never thought it a date until she referenced it as such, and so then I went with it. Later, we hung out, and the date came up.
"But you know we're just friends, right?" she said. "That's all I'm looking for."
I had deduced even before our date that Jeanine was a conglomerate of clinginess and hypochondria, so this was fine with me. I had to stop myself from nodding too fast to being "just friends" and mentioning she was too manic for me.
Read MoreIt's all the new rage in dating. Apparently all the guys will offer it. And I'm only assuming they offer it because girls agree to it.
Rather than offering to take me to dinner, drinks, coffee, a walk, a hike, a kayaking adventure, a theme park, a play, a concert, a sporting event, a museum, a beach or any of the seemingly endless other fun opportunities that this world has graced us with, guys these days like to seduce women with their Netflix account.
Read MorePreviously I discussed the twenty-something epidemic, The Netflix Binge. Today I will narrate a nasty side effect: The Netflix Betrayal.
I am not the first to write on the potential pitfall of agreeing to watch a Netflix show with your friends. You think you'll bond - you'll have more inside jokes to reference - but occasionally strife strikes. Here is my tale:
My friend invited me to watch the premiere of the current season of American Horror Story. Afterward, I couldn't bear to wait seven days for episode two (did you see the killer clown?! I needed to know his story!). My friend suggested we watch the past seasons in the meantime. We watched the second season in a week. I'm proud to say (maybe embarrassed, too), I was so into AHS that I convinced my out-of-town weekend guests to watch the show while we pregamed the bars. However, this sets the stage for the betrayals: My out-of-town friend left my laptop signed into her Netflix account....
Read MoreThe Netflix binge is a millennial epidemic. It strikes post-brunch - if you even make it out the door for brunch - or one evening while you and your friend(s) debate what you can do that doesn't involve tipping a bartender. Or you're already laying by the TV waiting for Domino's cheesy bread to be delivered. You spend thirty minutes scrolling through the buffet of options ("I haven't even heard of that" or "Go back, what's that about?") until you both squeal at some show you've wanted to see - or maybe they've seen an episode already, but let's now embark on this together.
You're only past the opening credits when the cheesy bread arrives. And once you eat the cheesy bread, you either rewind or pause to catch up because neither of you knows what's going on.
You will stay on that couch for the next two to 24 hours. When you break, it is because one of you has to go to work or a family emergency arises. Sleep is never cited. And before you part, you sign on the dotted line that you will pick the show back up in nine hours once you're both home again.
Read MoreBy Sonya Matejko from Single Strides* *Guest post. Contact AsToldOverBrunch@gmail.com if you are interested in guest posting.
Imagine: It’s a Sunday morning; you crawl out from under the covers and curse at yourself for not lowering the blinds before you fell asleep. You search all over your bed for your phone (the one you swear you’re going to start putting elsewhere before bedtime). After a brief moment of thinking you lost it, you find it underneath the monopoly of pillows. You blink your eyes open to adjust to the screen and read the messages left for you. You either breathe a sigh of relief, or you quickly delete any proof of illegible texts (because somehow this means they never happened).
You stretch out and suddenly realize it’s like you’ve never been more dehydrated in your entire life. You look towards the door that is just footsteps away from the kitchen… and after 10 seconds of deliberation you decide it’s just too far. You glance at the clock again and debate how long you have until you have to rinse the smoke-smell out of your hair to make it to brunch. You think about making an excuse, but then you think about that smoked salmon benedict oozing with hollandaise sauce and the mimosa that is sure to cure your dehydration. The motivation makes you rise only 10 minutes later than you should have and on begins the process to your favorite occasion with the most likely of contexts:
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