Brianne Hogan

Last week was my imaginary ex-boyfriend's birthday. January 2, to be exact. I only know this because Facebook told me so. I had forgotten about him.

public speaker. author. entrepreneur. loss-to-love alchemist.

For a long time, romantic love was an esoteric thing to me that I assumed would occur eventually, like taxes and having your clothes dry-cleaned.

advice guru. lube lover. workaholic.

I've cried on subways from Toronto to New York. I cried bombing an interview, going to a party that I didn’t want or because my sweater was itchy.

I’ve decided that I no longer want to depend on an exchange of cultural consumption or “comparing lives” currency in order to feel good about myself.

If you’re looking for a health and wellness guru, look no further than Ani Phyo.

sommelier. noser. author. roxane gay fan.

brave. bawdy. decidedly not depressed.

accidental movie star. founder of crankytown. wannabe villain.