Eight years ago, I started this little blog with a pivotal first post titled, ‘My Name is Lindsay, and I’m a Love Addict.’
At the time, I was a 22-year-old with lofty dreams and a rather singular view of the world. I had the hopes of becoming a writer in New York and more importantly, finding the love of my life. While one of those things came true—in dividends—as years passed and blog posts collected, I grew weary and exhausted of writing about my dating life. I had lost interest in detailing every intimate moment from my personal experience for the web to read. Sure, dating was hard. Meeting someone who wanted to share his Netflix-and-chill evenings and his coffee-stained mornings with me seemed impossible. All the time I spent divulging and dissecting my lack of romance left me disenchanted by the whole process—and I found myself seeking greener pastures.