The oracle of dating by allison van diepen

At five-nine, she’s four inches taller than me, giving a sleek elegance to her figure that many girls would kill for.As for me, I’ve inherited my dad’s Shredded Wheat–colored hair and my mom’s hazel eyes, which are mistaken for green or brown depending on the day, light conditions and my mood.He and Mom divorced ten years ago, and since then, he’s reverted back to the lifestyle he was meant for: the lifestyle of a bachelor. The truth is, Mom and Dad were a disaster from the start.He’s traveled the world with his company, living in Singapore, Johannesburg, Berlin and now in Ottawa, Canada. Mom and Dad sat down with Tracey and me, explaining that he was going to move out. I’m surprised Mom didn’t see through his hollow charm right away, but I guess she was young and innocent, and trusted love.

In any other city, she’d have been snatched up by some wonderful guy already, but New York is tricky, since there are far more single women than men, and the dating culture is downright strange. People move for their careers—why not to find a man?

She’s even been afraid to introduce certain guys to me because she knows I’ll see what she prefers not to see.

Tracey lives on the Upper East Side—it’s about forty minutes from Brooklyn by subway.

She has rich dark hair the color of a flourless chocolate cake and shining brown eyes to match.

Her cheeks are slightly pink from the windy day, and her complexion is flawless.