No one knows exactly when drunk dialing became so mainstream, but it has greatly increased since 1998, when cell phones began to be as commonplace at social gatherings as morally handicapped people themselves.

As summer reaches the autumn of its existence, a question immediately followed by an epiphany raced through my otherwise simple and shallow mind.

The question: Why does Labor Day have to mark the unofficial end of the greatest season we know?

If the New York Times Wedding Announcements page is any indication, men aren’t getting hitched before the age of thirty-three.

Is the reason for such delay insecurity and indecision, or is there simply a premium on quality opportunities to find someone to essentially share every moment with until death, or divorce, do you part?

"You still live in Hoboken, huh?" an old acquaintance asked me at a happy hour in the city recently. An innocent looking question on paper, but one that cannot be appreciated until the oozing of pretentious condescension is actually heard. "Don’t you feel old still being there?"

After reading my friend Kara Jessica Parker Thomas's column on how guys are usually morally handicapped commitment phobes trapped in bodies experiencing perpetual puberty, I felt the need, no, the obligation, to defend my gender against these charges levied by the members of Ya Ya Sisterhood.