Part of the fun of starting a relationship is the shared discovery of the things that make you tick as a unit. Establishing a Sunday routine, dedicating a night to each other to stay in and watch shitty movies on Netflix — this is what keeps the engine of your coupledom running smoothly. The more comfortable you get, the more likely you are to fall into established, cozy patterns. Take the pet name, one of the more revealing aspects of your life together. What you decide to call your person in public or in private speaks volumes about your relationship, but there are so many to choose from, it’s hard to say what works and what doesn’t. I used to call my ex-boyfriend “boo,” and was fine with it until one Christmas at his parents house, when I discovered that that was what his mother called him — suddenly, “boo” was weirdly inappropriate. You want to choose the right pet name, one that’s appropriate for the place your relationship is at. I’m here to help. Read on for a field guide to relationship pet names. Keep reading »
It’s not easy out there in the trenches of modern love. Finding someone even somewhat acceptable to go to dinner with is a struggle, never mind a person you want to see more than once a week. While sifting through duds on OKCupid and swiping left on every single match that comes your way on Tinder, your mind might start to wander towards the kind of men that existed at a time when things were more rustic, more dangerous, with more fur capes and dragons. Maybe you’ve cast a critical eye to the comforting glow of your Sunday night television lineup, and realized the answer has been streaming into your home every Sunday on HBO. “Game of Thrones” is a veritable buffet of available, attractive men. When faced with so many options, what’s a girl to do? Don’t worry, we got your back. Here’s our definitive ranking of the men of “Game of Thrones” by dateability.
I’ve never been one for chivalry. I prefer to do things my way, and take pride in my own ability to lift things that are heavy, open doors on my own and find my coat in a sea of bodies and sad down jackets at a crowded bar. I’ve been with men who are completely unchivalrous, men who I’ve had to kick in the shins to lift a finger to help me carry an air conditioner up the stairs, and I’ve been with men who have fallen over themselves to get the door for me, even though I was already in the process of opening it. There’s a finesse to the art, a way of doing things that falls in between a fawning obsequiousness and a genuine gesture, bred of genteel manners and a different way of living.
There’s a fine line between chivalry and common courtesy. Holding a door open for someone who’s hands are full is good home training. Giving your seat up for a pregnant woman on the bus is good home training. Helping me into my coat at a restaurant is unnecessary, awkward and assumes that deep down, you are unconfident in my ability to put on my own outerwear when the fact of the matter is I have been dressing myself for longer than we’ve been acquainted. I understand that this is a gesture of kindness, but I view it as a harbinger of times past — and quite frankly, the past is where it should stay. Keep reading »
Online dating is a wild and wooly world full of missed connections, delicate communications, and the unique, but not uncommon experience of getting to know someone enough to meet them for one to two beers through a series of messages on the internet. This is the world we live in, and the beauty of online dating is that the carefully worded profile lets you try before you buy. All profile info is to be taken with a grain of salt, but there’s an art to the carefully crafted profile. We all have our personal dealbreakers, but there are some that are (somewhat — there are always exceptions!) universal. Let’s explore… Keep reading »
My ex-boyfriend’s parents have been married for years, but they sleep in separate beds. At first, I found this practice strange, a manifestation of a marriage that no longer had the sparkle, one that had become more comfortable and practical than anything else.
I was wrong.
His parents were, in fact, perfectly content, deeply comfortable and happy with each other. Theirs was a long-lasting and functional marriage that ran smoothly on a combination of the comfort of knowing someone very well for a very long time, and the glorious amount of independence they each shared. His mother, an avid fly-fisher and traveller, spent a lot of time out of the country, exploring the world in her retirement. His father disliked travel, and preferred curling up with a good spy novel and the 49ers. She went on her trips, he read his books, and they were happier for it. For me, they were an example of pure success, something to aspire to, the best way to be together and independent. Keep reading »