The Monthly Theme Essays are a collection of essays written each month on a predetermined theme. These essays are always published during the last week of the month. To submit a Monthly Theme Essay check out our upcoming themes.
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Most notifications earned a disinterested glance from me, and I ended up swiping them away, too lazy to change settings. But there was one type of notification that got my full attention every time: an alert from Reddit reminding me that I had a new message. Not a short and snappy message like the “What’s up?” casually sent by my friends—rather, it was almost always a long, carefully thought-out letter amounting to at least a thousand words.
Read MoreI don't think I knew it at the time, but I was desperate for love when she came into my life. I had been with my husband for two years and the marriage was dying. We didn't like or trust each other, and we weren't happy. There was no intimacy in the relationship.
Read MoreI was pulling a pizza out of the oven when I nicked the heating element with my left ring finger. Now where a ring might be, I have a half-centimeter stripe, symmetrical enough to suggest a wedding band, a reminder of those I've worn before. It's red—the color of stop, of angry, of hurt—evoking both my marriages: the good one that reached "until death do us part," far too soon, and the bad one that made me feel diminished.
Read MoreI live in the midst of Marias, from the maternal to the eternal. My nonna, Maria Grazia, with whom I spent much of my childhood, lost three children before she had my uncle and my mom, Maria Gaetana. My days are bookended with calls to my mom: Seven in the morning, post coffee and yoga, and seven in the evening, as my day slows.
Read MoreA shirtless man hollers at the top of his lungs, creating chaos in the already jam-packed Wan Chai market. The crowd disperses to the sides, allowing him to barge through with his metal cart of carcasses. As he passes, he releases the scent of sweat, unwashed hair, and rot.
Read MoreEven in the musty Catskills cottage my parents rented during the summer I came of age, their bed was the place we went to heal. Even as tiny, satin ballet slippers hung from the mahogany headboard and a pink chenille spread covered it, like a sticky sweet frosting, this lumpy mattress was where we found succor.
Read MoreCameron, my boyfriend of six months, sits across from me in the cheap, Canton Chinese restaurant where we always eat. The white-walled, empty space fills with light through the windows, and wood tables are vacantly spread throughout. We look at each other blankly. The only sounds that come out our mouths are loud chews and slurps of stir-fry noodles hitting our lips with long, hungry uncomfortableness.
Read MoreModern love doesn’t mean a type of love we haven’t seen before, but it does mean it’s a love still seen as radical by those it encounters. It makes people look twice when they see you walking down the street. It makes your friends comment, “I’m so happy for you!” on your Instagram pics. It both surprises and entangles everyone it meets, creating an aura they begin to crave as well. It’s the type of love they should really be making potions for.
Read More“I think you’re better off without me.” I blubbered, my hair thick in unwashed, oily residue. My clothes, more suitable for sleeping than for wearing out, a mess. As I heard myself say those words, I almost didn’t recognize myself. I, the romantic. The believer of fairy-tales and forever afters.
Read More“Learn to make collages. Water your plant. Collect lucky pennies.”
Let’s be honest, you’re not going to make collages or collect lucky pennies. That seems like a waste of time. You do, however, eat a weed brownie and read Claudia Rankine’s Citizen in one sitting at a bar.
Read MoreI met him for the first time at my friend’s house, and it was love at first sight. His bright green eyes were captivating, and he wouldn’t leave my side the entire time I was there. He purred in my lap, fell asleep on my chest as I chatted with my friend. “He’s perfect,” I told her.
Read MoreMy mother’s treats have always been unexpected, precious morsels,
savored as much for their surprise as for their flavor—
a summer lunch of a lobster roll and coffee frappe at Gulf Hill creamery,
a butterscotch candy retrieved from deep within a purse,
I am difficult to love. I know that. And I’m pretty impossible to live with. Trust me, I recognize that too. I’m stubborn, have high expectations, and can be a smart ass. Luckily for me, I fell in love with someone with the exact same qualities. Clearly everything goes smoothly in our house on a daily basis. I’ve never found myself saying, “Do you even know what a toilet bowl brush looks like?”
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