Danielle Page

Being drunk-hungry might lure you into a less recognized option for late-night eating: a 24-hour pharmacy. Since you can use your debit card here, you will feel compelled to buy every snack you see, especially if you’re far from home and need to survive a long drunken, train ride.

That voice in the back of your head, the one that keeps asking, what if this doesn’t work out? Would you survive losing a friend and a lover in one fell swoop? Could you handle facing your co-worker every day if things go south?

They are not you. They don’t have the authority to decide whether or not it makes you a slut if you sleep with that guy on date number three. They’re only going on what they’ve heard, from expert sources like their boyfriend’s “bros,” or Bravo TV.

You won’t know the mistake you’ve made until after things have ended, and those same streets and subways start to haunt you. Those spots, your spots, the ones that you so willingly shared with that first person you loved in this city, are now poisoned.

But make no mistake — on those Saturday nights that you’re all shacked up, I’m not shriveled up on my couch watching The Notebook, crying my eyes out, wiping my single tears with the fur of my cat.