So, I’ve moved to NYC for the summer, and my cousin/roommate has wasted no time in introducing me to her glamazon downtown world of secret clubs, semi - big names and other assorted good - looking people who have Blackberries for no reason (seriously, I feel Amish with my two - year old cell phone. But even if I somehow scrounged up the cash for a Blackberry, I would never use it. I’d feel pathetic because I get about one text message per month. From my mom).

Anyway. I feel a little weird being around all these quasi - famous and ultra rich young hipsters. I can easily pass for one of them, but deep down I’m nothing but a simple farm girl. Which makes the prospect of dating a pseudo - socialite tricky. I automatically assume that all the Blackberry boys are wayyyyy out of my league. I mean, all they need to do is look at my cell phone to see I’m nothing like the other Kirsten Dunst clones.

Strangely, though, fancy suitors are competing for my attention left and right. But I’m having trouble letting down my air of mystique for fear that they will discover my true identity and deem me below their league. Read More »