A year later, Altfest and Ross had a prototype, which they called Project , an acronym for Technical Automated Compatibility Testing—New York City’s first computer-dating service. She was the station’s first female reporter, and she had chosen, as her début feature, a three-part story on how New York couples meet.
Each client paid five dollars and answered more than a hundred multiple-choice questions. (A previous installment had been about a singles bar—Maxwell’s Plum, on the Upper East Side, one of the first that so-called “respectable” single women could patronize on their own.) She had planned to interview Altfest, but he was out of the office, and she ended up talking to Ross.
“God I wish my life was that free and easy and amazing.” Huntington tagged his posts with phrases like #homeiswhereyouparkit and #livesimply, but the tag he used most often was #vanlife.
Maybe you could just smoke some weed and listen to the new John Mayer album together? They just need to send, like, three more e-mails before C. When they return, the two of you still don’t have sex. They’re going to finally quit their job and move to rural New Hampshire to get a Ph. in the humanities and take long walks with a very large dog.
* You should be having more sex with them, given the number of times that they bring up the whole Sex Diary thing, but they’re super stressed right now. (It’s the only time they’ve ever apologized to you for anything.) Being present in the moment means popping half a Xanax and heading to the hotel sauna without you.
Something about their fond irritation made him think that they’d be suited to spending long periods of time together in a confined space. The year before, Huntington had given up his apartment in New York and his job as a designer at Ralph Lauren, and moved into a 1987 Volkswagen Syncro.
He spent his days surfing, exploring, and taking pictures of his van parked in picturesque locations along the California coast.
They apologize for not being more present in the moment.