The Lost Girls

he challenge had been proffered. So dedicated did I become to my job that I was willing to downgrade every other priority in order to put in more time at the office, to achieve that next level. Did I ever feel conflicted as I turned down trips to the beach with my girlfriends, guilty at blowing off night after night of friends’ happy hours, or anxious over the fact that I hadn’t left myself much time to go on dates with guys, let alone attempt a new relationship? Hardly a day went by that I didn’t. But I’d gotten a later start than most. If I ever wanted to be viewed as something other than a mail-retrieving, phone-answering, yes-girl junior editor, I couldn’t afford to slack off now. And if I got the promotion to associate and moved one more spot up the masthead, it really wouldn’t matter what I’d given up to get there. I was still years away from my thirtieth birthday. There’d be plenty of time for family, friends, and new boyfriends then—right

And as the months turned into years, we never had a moment’s pause about progressing naturally from one level to the next. Becoming Exclusive. Meeting the Parents. Planning Vacations. Discussing Living Together.

In order to cope with the pressure, people generally took one of two paths: the first lined with Xanax, therapists, and cigarettes, and the second with Bikram yoga, feng shui, and green tea

only the most career-driven and socially adaptable would survive

If we could transport ourselves back in time, we might tell our younger selves not to worry so much. Not to sweat the small stuff—or even the big stuf