Oh my loves,
It’s just past midnight on April 14th, which means it’s still dinnertime for my east coast friends, and now probably morning by the time you’re reading this. I’ve showered with a shea butter body wash, and moisturized with the Neon Rush moisturizer from & Other Stories (my kryptonite - I’m obsessed with their body products). Sicilian Sunrise was last summer’s scent, but now every time I smell it, I think of heatwaves + heatstroke + tears + having to leave the country just to come back again. So, naturally, we need to have new scents on rotation. And of course, no evening skincare routine is without a rose lip mask and a hyaluronic serum (ps. this got rid of my eczema!).
Today is April 14. And it officially marks 2 months before I turn 30. Do I care about ages, do I care about numbers, and do I care about what society thinks we should do or should have done by now? If you’ve been reading me for over a year now - you would have / should have guessed - absolutely not.
Timelines don’t exist, and I tell myself that it’s more fun to believe we’re all just here to stay in our own lane, float, and do whatever it is that makes us happy.
I want to start a 30 dates before 30 challenge. And there are so many reasons why - but none of them start with or end with finding someone:
My summer dress collection is always something I am most proud of. We have this baby pink linen mini, a few new silk numbers from Aritzia, omg this black strapless knit from Australia, and our recent orange Carrie Bradshaw number.
I forgot to finish number one. Basically, I want an excuse to wear my summer wardrobe to really cute places. And dare I say - I would like to be complimented on said wardrobe.
I’ve always had this vision of myself walking into to Pierluigi or Camponeschi (15 minutes late of course), my date AND a glass of wine already waiting for me at the table.
But I will also gladly settle for a spritz anywhere. Somewhere chic though. We have to remember our wardrobe. Like, I don’t have to go to Pierluigi on a first date but it would be nice.
I want a date that is not my couch at 2:30 AM when his shift is done. I am cranky and there is a reason why they call 3-4 AM witching hour.
I want to make out inside a restaurant again.
And I want to learn cool things about someone new. You know when someone tells you some random sentence that somehow leads you into this portal of knowing everything about them. Like, “Oh I wanted to go to school for XYZ but I couldn’t so now I’m this and I’m getting into this…”
And then you learn that they actually always wanted to be a writer but are stuck in banking. And then you can press and ask them why they never pursued it and then you both get emotional and you have to tell him it’s never too late to be who he always wanted to be.
So essentially I would love 30 pieces of content.
And I really, really just want to feel something new.
You know, there’s this beautiful, poetic irony to my last newsletter. That ends with me and the object of my one million and one newsletters - right back where we first met, me asking him if he could read my love letter to Italy.
Which, really, ended up being a love letter to irrationality. Which, to me, is one of probably one of the only ways I can describe love. And Italy.
I have to say, this makes me kind of sad because I just realized I’ll have to stop writing about him.
And one could argue - well, Emily - why not just start with one bumble date?
And to that I say - um, because that’s not fun. Why have one when you can have thirty?
Lol. Oh you guys. I’m excited.
I’m excited for the conversations and the psycho analyzing. The figuring out what their rising sign is before they tell you. All the weird shit people say when they’re nervous. And I’m excited to not take any of it seriously. To just have fun and ride the wave and see where it takes us.
And most of all? I’m excited to not be anyone’s secret anymore.
I love you,
Emily