Brunch, Breakups, and Bagels: My Accidental Heart-to-Heart in Central Park

Hey you guys 👋

Okay, so I wasn’t planning on crying into my everything bagel cream-cheese-less (I’m trying dairy-free, it’s a journey), but New York had other plans for me today. Honestly, I just wanted a cute Sunday. Like, one of those Sex and the City mornings where brunch is bottomless and my ex’s name isn’t popping up in my brain every five minutes like he’s trending on Twitter. 🍳🥂📱

But then… I ended up in Central Park. Alone. And then, not alone. More on that in a second.

Brunch Plans Gone Rogue 🥐

It all started when Monica forgot to make our brunch reservation. (She'll say she "thought" she did, but we all know Monica never forgets. Suspicious? Maybe. Passive-aggressively protective of my newly single status? Definitely.)

So instead of Balthazar, I grabbed a coffee from Ralph’s on Madison (try the iced oat latte, tell them Rachel sent you 💁🏼‍♀️) and wandered into Central Park like one of those women in perfume commercials—minus the heels and mysterious French lover.

Which brings me to the heart-to-heart part.

Accidental Therapy on a Bench 💬

I found a spot near The Lake, just me, a very nautically-dressed pigeon, and my feelings. And then this woman sits down next to me. She had that Upper West Side elegance: high-waisted linen pants, perfect gray bob, hat with actual structure.

She was eating a bagel too. Lox. Bold.

I smiled politely, because that’s what you do in New York when you want to show you’re both friendly and that you will 100% mace someone if they get weird.

Then she says:

“Rough morning or just the kind of face that thinks a lot?”

And I don’t know what it was—maybe the way she said it, maybe the fact that my cherry lip gloss was literally melting—but I just started talking. About the breakup. About how I romanticize people more than I date them. About how New York is the best place to be single and the absolute worst at the same time. About how hard it is to let go when you're the kind of person who gets nostalgic over shared playlists. (Yes, we had a playlist. Don’t judge me.)

She listened. She nodded. She didn’t interrupt to tell me about a cousin who went through THE SAME THING BUT WORSE. She just said:

“That’s the thing about this city. You think it’s spinning around you, all fifth dates and overpriced sushi. But really? It pauses. It gives you breath. Right when you think you don’t have one left.”

I mean… who is this woman? Was she real? Is she some kind of deli angel?

Rachel’s Central Park Realizations 🗽💡

So here’s what I walked away with today, other than a slight sunburn and two pigeons that definitely formed an unhealthy attachment to me:

1. You don’t need a reservation to feel full. (Metaphorically. I still want that Balthazar croissant.)
2. Strangers in this city can turn your whole day around if you let them.
3. Just because someone left you doesn’t mean you lost value. You’re not markdown designer denim—you’re vintage Dior. Timeless. Resilient. Occasionally needing dry cleaning but still stunning.

What I’m Loving Right Now

Here are a few New York things getting me through:

• 💄 Glossier’s “You” perfume. Smells like… a better version of myself.
• 👜 Flea markets in Chelsea. Found a Prada skirt I couldn’t afford and now I think we're in a long-distance relationship.
• 📖 Reading Joan Didion in bed. Makes me feel deep even when I’m literally just procrastinating laundry.
• 🎧 Playlist I made after that talk: "Sad Girl Summer But Make It Empowering." DM me on Insta for the link 😉

So if you're feeling like I was—messy, overdressed for brunch you didn’t go to, vaguely heartbroken—here's a virtual bagel and a reminder:

You’re doing better than you think. Walk it off in Central Park. Cry if you have to. Just try not to do it where someone might be filming Law & Order.

xo,
Rachel 🗽💔🥯

P.S. If you see a woman in a structured hat sharing bagel wisdom, tell her Rachel says thanks. And also where did she get that hat?