Men in their forties are like the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle: tricky, complicated, and you are never really sure you got the right answer.
Miranda had invoked our code phrase, honed over years of bad parties, awful dates and phone calls that would not end. Unfortunately, I was not ready to accept defeat.
There are very few things this New Yorker loves as much as Sunday brunch. You can sleep until noon and still get eggs anywhere in the city, alcohol is often included with the meal, and Sunday is the one day a week you get the single woman's sports pages: the New York Times wedding section.