Jen Glantz

This is a letter to Santa, from a Jewish girl. Shalom Santa, Do you remember me? I love you, Santa, and I’m just wondering why we can’t be friends.

I went to learn about the options to freeze my eggs so that when I was ready to make a decision about having kids, I wouldn’t have to worry about my age.

Friends call — once or twice a month — to tell me that they are pregnant.I’m no longer over-the-moon happy for them; I’ve become jealous.

I’ll admit it; I, Jennifer Sara Glantz, have ghosted my fair share of guys in New York City. Nothing made me feel as bad as when I ghosted my therapist.

Deciding to tell your partner that you want to see a therapist can be scary. And sometimes it's even a good idea to see someone together!

I smiled and walked out the door, choosing myself over a guy, choosing my business over a person who wanted me to be someone I no longer was.

My first time trying out for The Bachelor, I really wanted to get on the show to find love. “Is anyone else here to find love?” I said out loud.

“Apps for anxiety,” I whispered in the middle of a panic attack, holding down the round circle button on the front of my iPhone connecting to Siri.

My first impression of the matchmaker was that she was someone with whom I’d be friends. Yet, my real friends turned out to be better matchmakers.

When I found out that my boyfriend lied to me, twice, about going to a strip club, I thought I’d have the guts to be able to handle it better than I did.