For GQ, I wrote about why men should consider deleting their Facebook accounts. It was exciting to see people become furious about this being posted on GQ's Facebook page.

My features, reviews and my personal column "My Life My Fault" and my advice column "Thirtyish" from EYE WEEKLY, the Toronto alt-weekly that became The Grid, disappeared from the internet when the magazine folded. If for some reason you, like, actively want to read or re-read any of it, email me. "My Life My Fault" was about crying, pleasure (probably my favorite column was called "Pleasure War," about competitive pleasure), classism, romantically platonic friendship (that I made my platonic straight male best friend edit before I sent it to my boss), what "tough" really means, identity, how women bond over sugar, the 13 apartments I'd lived in until that point, sex noise (which was about my neighbor who was of course horrible, but who in the end offered a sincere and moving apology, which I received wearing a non-Halloween-related Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles costume), how indie rock let me down (ha/aw), aunthood, the appeal of minimalism (double-prescient!), brunch, so many others. For "Thirtyish," I sought the expertise of Marc Maron, Neil Pasricha, Chris Gethard, Jenny Lawson, Kelly Cutrone, Susie Bright, Christopher Ryan, Kelly Oxford, Jill Filipovic, Paul Tough, Charles Duhigg, Gretchen Rubin, Gabrielle Bernstein, Brené Brown, and Cheryl Strayed. A cover story I wrote about the quarterlife crisis, which is what we called it before Gen Xers co-opted and U-turned Millennial angst for their own purposes, was the most-read story in the website's history, and people semi-frequently email me about it, but I'd rather not recall being 25 so maybe instead let's just talk about how to be happier?

My social-media sourced relationships column for the Globe and Mail, called "The Jungle," got into who should pay on a first date, privacy, posting pics, online versus real-life selves, Valentine's Day, text-based ask-outs, do-over relationships, roommates, traveling with family, lying, work friendships, wellness and friendships, and dating way older or way younger.

My relationships column for the National Post, called "1+1" (I think this was around the time that Beyonce's record 4 came out?), got into "deconstructing the dynamics of every possible type of relationship" as per the display copy/my sweet editor, like Twitter users and the strangers that hate them, alt-title "tweeters and trolls," high-school sweethearts (I don't like cliché phrases like this one but I do love the word "sweetheart" so much), adult children and their parents, hair stylists and clients, bullies and their victims, or their "bullied," I guess, because "victim" can be a gross thing to apply to someone else, women and women in a talking-about-problems friendship context, super-fans and their friends, exes, and mothers and daughters.

While I was in graduate school I wrote an advice column for FLARE magazine called "Love, Kate," which was both a distraction and a great way to multi-purpose all the Barthes I was reading, because Barthes goes both ways. (Barthes is great on love, academically and anecdotally. The best!) That one covered dating someone very different than you, what to do when you're jealous of your best friend, dating younger,

I wrote a bossy letter to my oldest niece (I had two of them, and four nephews, and then I got married and am now an aunt to 13, which explains a lot of my skill set: indulgence, aimless conversation, YA knowledge, asking questions) for the Globe and Mail; I also wrote about buying them books, and only books, also for the Globe and Mail; I wrote about aunthood-as-waystation, for the National Post. And, also-also for the Globe and Mail, I wrote about why I often choose to go home, instead of away, for vacation.

I wrote about women losing ambition, and the allure of quitting, for ELLE Canada; was in, of course, a work-dark place when I pitched and wrote this one.

Wrote about how Millennials want to buy cottages (I am told these are called "cabins" or "lake houses" in parts of the U.S., and I will tell you that they're called a "batch" in New Zealand), because of course we do, for the National Post.