Dear “James,”

I was quietly minding my own business, clacking away on my computer at work when you came in.

“Is Rachel there?” I heard you say to the receptionist downstairs. Your voice was unmistakable.

NOOOOOOOO!!!! I thought to myself. Quick what do I do? I secretly peeped over
the glass loft balcony to make sure I was correct. Yep, it was definitely you.

As we all worked around one big table, I was surrounded by not only my coworkers but my boss. So I did the only rational thing I could think of. …

Dear White Male Yoga Teacher,

I was peacefully lying down in savasana waiting for class to start when
you abruptly woke me out of my slumber.

“Do you know what power yoga is?” you asked. I cracked my eyes open
to see you standing over me, no shirt, six-pack glistening with sweat,
legs spread, and hands-on hips. I could tell for reasons unbeknownst to
me, you were definitely feeling yourself.

“Yeah, I do,” I responded nonchalantly.

“What does it mean to you?” you persisted.

I could not believe you were serious. Did you think you were some sort of yoga…

Dear Former Boss,

I had been asking for a raise for years. You refused, telling me that sales
were down, the economy wasn’t good, etc.

Fast forward, almost a year later, I decided to take a trip to Costa Rica. I had begun to feel stuck in my career and felt like a reset was just what I needed. I laughed, I danced and made new friends. Some of whom I kept in touch with long after leaving. All week people kept telling me how funny, smart, and fun I was to be around. …

Dear Poo Poo,

It was our 3rd date. You invited me over for dinner. I wore a fetching yet
semi-casual outfit I got from a sample sale and made the drive from Brooklyn to Jersey City.

Things seemed to be going well. You looked nice. In an “I’m an engineer, but I read GQ” sort of way. The apartment was filled with the aroma of pasta and garlic. We had a glass of wine. After half an hour of witty repartee, I excused myself to the restroom.

That’s when I saw it — the TURD.

There was a massive pile…

Dear Random Man,

It was just another day waiting tables at The Standard Hotel
for me, when you walked in.

I had seen you many times before. You were often disheveled and neurotic in appearance. Each time you’d stop by you would ask the hostess to pass a note to Andre. As in the millionaire debonair owner of The Standard Andre Balazs who once dated Uma Thurman and was previously married to Katie Ford of Ford Models. That Andre Balazs.

Now I had been watching this happen once a week for a month and I was pretty sure you did…

Carefully arranged on the table were various pink and white candles, offering a warm glow against the cloudy evening. A mini statue of the Hindu goddess Durga sat next to a set of mala beads. Flowers were strewn about, while a small spray bottle of something curiously called “DNA Activation Spray” sat to the side. I sat quietly with 10 other women around the table, chatting and drinking tea. The moon circle was about to start.

In a world where women are increasingly working longer hours and living busier lifestyles, it’s easy to feel exhausted and unfulfilled. We’re getting married…

We met on our flight to Paris. We were both students on our way to study abroad. Most of the students were sitting on the other side of the plane. You and I were seated next to each other, completely isolated from everyone else.

As we got to talking, you told me (within the first 5 minutes) that you had been a model with one of the biggest model agencies in New York. I looked at you, puzzled. I’m not one to body shame or looks shame, but when you say you’re a model and it does cause one to…

Dear Hilaria / Hilary Baldwin-

I used to take your yoga class at Yoga Vida when I lived in NYC. I would leave my Soho office, ride the N/R train two stops to get to Union Square location.

Though there is some confusion about when you started using your Spanish
accent, I am here to say I distinctly remember you having a thick Spanish accent during class and thinking you sounded like Penelope Cruz. Not that long after, you met Alec Baldwin, and eventually, you stopped teaching.

Interestingly enough, I too hatched a similar faux accent plan. Being the Anglophile…