I Hear You, Babe

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there's someone in your life who heard what they said about you… and passed the bread and butter. girl. we need to talk about her.

this week: the switzerland friend — she's not neutral, she's comfortable — and her cousin the double agent, who trashes everyone to you and posts them with a heart. plus: i accidentally texted my ex-friend asking for a hat back (during switzerland week, the universe is fully employed), the masters degree came OUT (you can't venmo your way out of being wrong), the whole city ran past my studio and i said what i said — running is a little embarrassing. i have three marathon medals. i'm allowed.

also in this one: the zurich girl opened the box (i cried, mind your business), the boat lady is BACK with her friend of thirty-four years who has never once picked a side, a birthday cake betrayal, a confession from a former switzerland friend, and a brunch crime involving potatoes that i refuse to rule on alone — the verdicts go to the inbox and we're crowning a winner next week.

send me your switzerland stories, your double agents, your potato verdicts: [email protected]. anonymous always, nobody's getting clocked on my watch.

neutrality is fine in a disagreement, babe. it's betrayal in a disrespect.

full-time feeler, part-time hater 🍋

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there's a version of you that already knows. and you've been avoiding her for a year, babe.

ep 55 is the one about hiding from yourself. a woman buying groceries every sunday for a version of her who cooks — the rice cooker has never been opened (babe, i own the same unopened rice cooker, darius bought it, it lives under the sink). a girlie in auckland who organized her whole life so she's never alone in a room with the version who knows the relationship is over — that's not busy, that's witness protection from yourself. the someday girl who's undefeated because she's never played (that's not a record, that's a forfeit with good lighting and some aquaphor on her cheeks). a listener in zurich who found us googling "whose dream am i living" at 2am, carrying a box she hasn't opened in nine years. nine saved voicemails from a grandmother. an oklahoma girlie homesick for the life she needed to leave — because even an upgrade is a loss. and the one at the door of being okay who won't walk through, because the hurt version has seniority.

she's not there to replace you, babe. she's there to relieve you. punch out on the punch card.

send me the version you're hiding from: [email protected]. anonymous always.

full-time feeler, part-time hater. let's get into it 🍋

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ever opened his story again… in case it changed? babe. it had not changed.

ep 54 is caught in 4K — by MYSELF. not caught by him, not by your bestie. caught by the only witness that matters: you, at 1am, fully perceiving yourself. this week: 84 weeks deep in his cousin's wedding album, airplane mode on as a safety measure (that's bomb defusal, babe). forty-one voice memos of one woman rehearsing "oh hey! no worries at all!" the invented errand that drove past his apartment (innocent people check their mirrors). the outfit story posted for ONE viewer and the audit that followed. a wrong text that took 25 minutes to engineer (the review came in: "all good lol"). and exhibit A girl RETURNS from the mental gymnastics episode with a folder called "context" (a little cuckoo crazy banana pants, said with love).

plus my own tapes: the 1am buzzsprout refresh, my mom's little dot driving home, and zooming in on the gym. it's unhinged. it's love with a screen on it. it's both.

send me your footage: [email protected]. anonymous always. the tapes stay sealed.

full-time feeler, part-time hater. let's get into it 🍋

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ever opened his story again… in case it changed? babe. it had not changed.

ep 54 is caught in 4K — by MYSELF. not caught by him, not by your bestie. caught by the only witness that matters: you, at 1am, fully perceiving yourself. this week: 84 weeks deep in his cousin's wedding album, airplane mode on as a safety measure (that's bomb defusal, babe). forty-one voice memos of one woman rehearsing "oh hey! no worries at all!" the invented errand that drove past his apartment (innocent people check their mirrors). the outfit story posted for ONE viewer and the audit that followed. a wrong text that took 25 minutes to engineer (the review came in: "all good lol"). and exhibit A girl RETURNS from the mental gymnastics episode with a folder called "context" (a little cuckoo crazy banana pants, said with love).

plus my own tapes: the 1am buzzsprout refresh, my mom's little dot driving home, and zooming in on the gym. it's unhinged. it's love with a screen on it. it's both.

send me your footage: [email protected]. anonymous always. the tapes stay sealed.

full-time feeler, part-time hater. let's get into it 🍋

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ever had a fight start about a rotisserie chicken and end at his entire family since 2023? babe. the chicken opened a portal.

ep 53 is kitchen sink fights — the argument that starts about one thing and somehow contains seventeen. the mental filing cabinet (babe, it's coming from the cabinet). the man who floods the room the second you raise ONE feeling. a listener married 41 years still fighting about a boat that sank two decades ago. and a dishwasher loaded like a raccoon did it — until one sentence told the whole real story.

because the fight is never about the thing. it's about the thing under the thing: do you see me, do you hear me, do i get a say, am i enough.

send me the fight that started about a lid: [email protected]. anonymous always.

full-time feeler, part-time hater 🍋

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ever found out you weren't in your best friend's wedding the same way her dentist found out? from the grid? and then LIKED the post?? babe.

ep 52 is bestie breakups vol. 3 — the language edition. lose a boyfriend and everyone shows up: the wine, the playlist, somebody covers your shift. lose a best friend of fifteen years and… nothing. not even a word for what she is now. so we wrote the dictionary ourselves: the group chat graveyard (a gif from october, sitting there like a tombstone). the gift-shop friendship (two women exchanging thumbs up across the void). the friend who disappeared and the apology she's been drafting for three years. and seven robes on the grid, none of them hers.

send me your friendship breakups: [email protected]. everything's anonymous, always.

full-time feeler, part-time hater. let's get into it 🍋

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ep 51 is the mental gymnastics episode — the full olympic floor routine your brain runs to make his behavior make sense. this week: a situationship texts "happy birthday" and she convenes a four-person panel about it (the committee was compromised. the committee wanted to believe). a man who's "just bad at texting" posts his lunch AND an introvert meme mid-ignore (the irony). a girlie builds her boyfriend an alibi — in heels, at her own award night — and nearly loses it at the cheese table. a 1am google doc with sections, built to prove the red flags don't apply to her situation (babe, you gave your denial a header). and a nine-years closer about how loud the defending was, and how quiet it gets after.

next week: friendship breakups. there's no language for them, so we're writing it. send yours: [email protected]

full-time feeler, part-time hater. let's get into it 🍋

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fifty. FIFTY episodes. who let me. (nobody. that's the problem.)

so for the milestone i did the one thing you should never do — i listened to episode one on the bus. it sounds like i recorded it in a tin can at the bottom of a pool during a thunderstorm and at one point i call a situationship "a journey." i had to pause it. a man looked at me.

but it cracked something open, so episode 50 is a REUNION. no new emails. i tracked down the legends and asked them all one question: where are you now. the long test drive who bought a car (a good one). the woman who decorated the red flag and finally took the good knives. the bestie breakup that became a museum. the one who went dark and came back to say "i made it out. hi." the marriage saved at the dishwasher. and the closer that wrecked me — my very FIRST email, episode one, still here, still listening.

plus: a lightning round, a little hall of fame, my Chelsea Piers gym membership (i'm not a member, i'm a top-tier donor), and the impulse control of a raccoon. i'm in my cunt era. sorry not sorry.

you built this show. there's no episode without the inbox. so this one's for you.

🍕 next week: “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” — the mental gymnastics episode. every story you tell yourself to stay, every no-win trap. follow so it hits your feed monday.

full-time feeler, part-time hater 🍋 let's get into it

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okay so i found out the knicks won the championship because my whole neighborhood erupted at midnight and i genuinely thought it was gunfire. that's the episode. that's also the prompt.

because this week is about your GUT — the times you JUST knew. no logic, no proof, your body just stood up and called it. the first date who bragged "i don't really read" (her soul left the restaurant before she did). the friend who opened with "no offense but" (the trailer for the whole movie). the apartment you knew in four seconds. the haircut you knew was wrong mid-scissor and still TIPPED for. and the big one every girlie needs — how to tell your gut from your fear, because one buzzes and one's the quiet drop. i go deep on that one.

plus: vito the maine coon is officially my 401k, somebody got rich off projector futures last night, and to whoever set the bus on fire — what did the bus do to you? we need that bus on monday.

your gut is undefeated. start believing her on the first try, not the fourth.

full-time feeler, part-time hater. let's get into it 🍋

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okay so i lost my shoe to the rain on the way to the train and had to crawl back for it in front of god and everyone. that's just the open. that's not even the episode.

it's summer, it's a sweaty 95, the girlies are out here with our coochies out, and you sent me everything that should be illegal about a nyc summer. the backpack man who clears a whole train car with one turn. the rooftop dj with a fog machine and FOUR songs who thinks he's headlining coachella. the garbage soup with steam coming off it. a 9-hour "beach day" that was 7 hours of the A train and one sunburn stripe (we'd do it again, obviously). the mystery drip from the AC unit that lands on your tongue and ends your whole life. the girl reclining on the subway pole like it's lumbar support (you absolute villain).

also a real one — a night-shift nurse sad about a summer thing she "wasn't supposed" to catch feelings for. and me, derailing for ten minutes about my $50 amazon fan (changed my life, not sponsored, will die on this hill) and how my 8-month-old maine coon is going to be my 401k.

it's a hang. group therapy with no AC. all girlies, every walk of nyc life, same suffering.

full-time feeler, part-time hater. send your crimes to [email protected] 🍋

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