I’m not gonna lie; part of why I wanted to see this movie is that it had my name in it. I didn’t read much, if anything about it, aside from seeing the poster, so I will tell you right off what I didn’t know until the film started: this is not really a chick flick, at least, in the sense of feel-good, “Sex and the City”-style romance. It’s dark and intense, and will make you cry…unless you have a heart of stone. But the humor here is highlighted by the otherwise intense drama (aka, a dramedy). It is a chick flick in that it centers around two sisters, whose bond is intense, combative, and holds lots of longtime hurt.
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I was newly on the rebound (read: heartbroken), and had been invited by a friend who knew the deal to a downtown hipster party full of sexy, artsy guys. I proceeded to immediately knock back a few free drinks, then flirt my way through the throngs of smart artistes. One struck my fancy, with his Southern drawl, earnest voice, and red hair. He was sweet, and super talented, and cute in a non-overpowering way. I knew he liked me, but he wasn’t putting the hard sell on getting in my pants. So of course I went home with him.
We got to his apartment and tipsily made out, and soon our clothes were off. I got on top of him and we started having sex. Now, I’m a talkative girl whether I’ve been drinking or not, and one of the places I love to run my mouth is in the bedroom. I don’t remember exactly what I said—the sex wasn’t that earth-shattering—but I know there were a few “That feels good”s and whisperings of his name. I’d thought he was having just as good a time as I was, until we talked the next day. Keep reading »
Last year, I had sex with a grandfather. That sounds bad, but I didn’t know he was a grandpa until after we’d done it. Plus, he’s a good thirty years younger than my own grandfather. But still, at 53, he had two kids and a baby granddaughter, while at 32, I’m itching to give birth to my own babies. When he confessed his real age to me over lunch following our hotel-room hookup (he’d told me he was 48), I assured him that I didn’t mind.
And at first, I didn’t. Part of what attracted me to him was that he was mature. He owned his own home, had a secure job. His life wasn’t as precarious as the other guys I’d recently dated. He seemed steady and solid, thoughtful, and I liked the idea of him presiding over a family. It made me feel like he’d be protective and gentlemanly, but still hot. Keep reading »