I am presently married, but before I reached this impressively adult position, however, I had my way with a series of gentleman across the fair island of Manhattan. I was a little late to the online dating game, and once I discovered it, look out! I had a date more than half the nights of the week. And, if I’m being honest, I slept with a decent number of them. What can I say? I’m a fan of the one-night stand.
One night stands, I think, are like that very, very rich piece of cheesecake: Delicious and a total treat, but if you had it every day, you’d be like, “Oh my god. I’m disgusting. I feel gross. I hate myself.” They’re not for every day, but they’re for sometimes. The key is in the approach. You need to practice moderation. You need to find the right guy with whom to do it. And the right guy is simple. He is someone you’re very attracted to and with whom you have zero interest in a relationship.
Now that I’ve laid the criteria for the gentleman with whom you want to have a one night stand, let me work to convince you further as to why you should indulge … Keep reading »
In my new book, The Harm in Asking, one of the chapters, “The Boogie Rhythm,” is dedicated entirely to the topic of farting. To be a bit more specific, it is all about what we, as women, go through when it comes to our gas.
In the run up to the book’s release I’ve done a handful interviews and without fail, each one of these interviews has focused on this particular chapter of my book. This surprised me considering the book itself is 306 pages long. The chapter on farting is 7.
As I was writing, it did not occur to me that devoting seven pages of a 306 page book to farts would garner such such dramatic reactions. I never imagined it would be the only thing my interviewers cared to talk about. I hoped it would be funny. I knew some readers would find it un-funny. Lewd. Offensive. That I had prepared for, but I hoped that by keeping it brief, light, to the point, intentionally amusing and so on, I would seem like less of all those things. Keep reading »
I am a writer.
Having said that, I ask that you bear in mind how broad that category is. I call myself a writer, and so does Philip Roth. So does my personal public enemy #1, a young woman I met in college who writes lip gloss reviews for a living. My point is that being a writer can mean a wide variety of things, and this week, for me, it meant getting in touch with male porn stars. Or rather, trying and mostly failing to get in touch with male porn stars.
The story started as all good stories do: With a penis. Surely you’ve heard the saying that you can judge a penis just by looking at the feet. Well, the other day I was sitting around bored and aimless, trying to decide what to write, when I started thinking about penises. This happens often, but on this specific occasion, the penises I’d started thinking about were The Penises That I Have Known. (I used CAPS just then because when you write about The Penises That You Have Known, it is important to be respectful.) Anyway, there I was thinking about The Penises That I Have Known, and as I continued thinking about them, I wondered if maybe there wasn’t a story there, a story in investigating whether the saying is true.
Alas: Although I could bring to mind the penises, I couldn’t remember the feet. It occurred to me then that thing to do would be to prove/disprove the idea, not with reference to my own experience, but by using male porn stars. Their penises are available to view, of course, so all I’d have to do was find the shoe size. Keep reading »
They say no good deed goes unpunished, and I agree. I’ve seen plenty of evidence in my own life: For example, one time, I baked a pie for my then-boyfriend, and his two best friends. They were coming over to watch the Oscars, and I said, “Oh, great! I’ll make a pie.”
“Great!” he said.
My then-boyfriend and his friends planned a boys’ afternoon out. They’d have their afternoon out, then pick up food for dinner. Tacos? Pizza? Chinese? We decided on pizza. We’d all reconvene later at my place for pizza, pie, and Oscars.
But then they arrived, all three of them, having picked up individual pizzas for themselves, and having forgotten to get one for me. This may – may – have been forgivable, if they’d made an appropriate apology, and offered to run out in that moment to pick me something up. But no. The boyfriend’s friends shrugged and said, “Oh, crap. Sorry.” When they finished their pizzas – each man offered me a sliver of their own – they left all the garbage of their takeout food strewn across the kitchen table. It sat there even as they waved goodbye, and escorted themselves out. I turned to my boyfriend, desperate for some acknowledgement of how absurd his friends’ behavior had been. He just shrugged, though, like boys will be boys, and turned back toward the TV. Keep reading »
Hello there. How are you? Good? Good. I’m good too. Why? Because: I just got engaged. My man got down on bended knee, and offered up a FANCY ring. In the words of Beyonce: He liked it. And so he put a ring on it.
Before going further, I would like to state for the record here that I believe engagement stories are never that interesting to anyone other than your parents and maybe your very best friend. They’re like weddings that way. It’s like, “Yay for you. You met a dude and the dude bought you a diamond. Congrats.” Or, “Yay for you. You spent a lot of money, and so yes, your place cards were nice and so were the canapés.” It’s not that I’m not excited for people to find love. I am. What I take issue with is the stuff that surrounds the commercialization of marriage. That which asks the betrothed and, more to the point, their guests to shell out so much godforsaken cash, and to get excited at the prospect of doing so.
This is all to say: I know that the details pertaining to someone else’s engagement/wedding aren’t that interesting. But, you see, my boyfriend proposed by hiding the ring in the toilet. He got me to find it by pretending he’d taken the world’s biggest sh*t. Keep reading »
A few months back, I had a horrifying experience at an Apple Genius Bar. My computer died while I was in the midst of the some important business, and try as I might, I couldn’t bring it back to life. Regarding the “important business,” it was this: Engagement rings. My boyfriend and I had been in the beginning stages of the engagement conversation; we’d started the process of looking at rings. On this particular night, we’d been looking on a website. Eventually, my boyfriend got tired and went to sleep. But I stayed up for a while. I stayed up looking at rings.
Here, it bears mention that my current screen saver shows both my father and my younger brother at my younger brother’s wedding. So, my boyfriend was asleep, and I was looking at rings against the backdrop of my newly married brother. And then my computer went kaput. Immediately, I scheduled a Genius appointment for the following morning. When I went in, the helpful young Genius had it working again in a matter of minutes. He did one thing and then another, and then my computer came back to life. And when it did, the visuals flashed in this order: SCREENSAVER OF BROTHER AT WEDDING! FIVE DIFFERENT ENGAGEMENT RING WEBSITES! Keep reading »