Last weekend, my girlfriend and I went to a pub full of guys shooting pool and drinking beer. We were there to see her friend, Mike, a DJ. He’s got a weekly gig at this place and, as he doesn’t seem to get too many of them, it’s pretty important that he keep it. I thought we were being pretty well-behaved. I’m not really big on PDA in places like that because, frankly, I feel out of place anyway and I don’t want to draw attention to myself.
But as the night progressed my girlfriend and I started to get tipsy. We didn’t do anything over the top but I know for a fact that I reached for her a couple times, danced with her and probably even kissed her. This is pretty standard stuff for a heterosexual couple, but I noticed that we were being gawked and glared at. I leaned over and asked my girlfriend’s guy friend if he’d noticed. He gave a fervent nod. Uh-oh. Keep reading »
Monday was my birthday. I turned 28. That would have sounded old to me when I was in college or even as recently as when I was 26. Today, it sounds perfect—young, in fact, and exactly where I want to be. During lunch on my birthday, I took a walk near Central Park and got to thinking about how much my outlook has changed and the route that got me here.
Two years ago this June, my whole world turned upside down. During the course of a few weeks, my boyfriend of over three years broke up with me, I had to find a new apartment (a result of the breakup), and I started my first full-time job in New York City. Since I’d allowed my world to revolve around him, I had very few friends in the city. The friends I did have were so amazing that it still makes me cry in gratitude; nonetheless, this was a breakup of ugly proportions—one that involved a lease, money, each other’s families and the kind of shattered expectations that led to deep bouts of pessimism, sadness, fear and nostalgia. Keep reading »
It was in-crowd matchmaking of the highest order: Maureen Dowd, a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The New York Times, offered to set up Helena Andrews, a reporter for the politics site Politico. “I’ve got a guy for you. He’s so hot, it’s perfect,” Dowd told Andrews during the 2008 election, identifying her plum bachelor as none other than candidate Barack Obama‘s personal assistant, Reggie Love. To some political wonks, Barack Obama’s right-hand man might have been a prize. But the Times‘ wannabe yenta turned out to be wrong: Andrews and Love didn’t hit it off at all. (Especially not after Love arrived to the date one hour late in gym clothes.)
Such a matchmaking foible was “dismayingly consistent,” Helena Andrews writes in the June Marie Claire. “Never mind the complicated algorithms of eHarmony: My matchmakers used simple math. Black professional + black professional = Huxtables.” Except … not. Keep reading »
If you’re on the dating scene and want to find someone special, you know how hard it can be to meet and greet the right person. Starting a conversion sounds simple enough, but it can be the most difficult part of a date because you want to make a good first impression. You can’t just wait for the man or woman of your desires to talk to you because it may never happen. So you must make the first move whether you are male or female. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Here are some fun opening lines you might want to try: Keep reading »
Have you ever scooped a red jellybean out of a bowl, expecting it to be sweet and cherry-flavored and instead you’ve shocked your tongue with a hot cinnamon surprise?
Whenever this happens to me, I feel sort of betrayed – expecting something and getting something drastically different in its place. And sure, it’s one thing when it happens with a sugary candy or perhaps a soup (you expect it to be hot, but it’s actually a super gourmet, weirdo cold situation), but when this same situation happens with a man it’s bound to throw you for a loop. And that’s exactly what happened to me not too long ago – I was expecting a sickly sweet romance and instead I got a fire-breathing hell boy.
Let me explain. Keep reading »
Ladies and gentlemen, I have a very serious, pertinent issue I need for us to discuss. It’s about anniversaries. Namely, what sort of anniversaries do you celebrate with your significant other and do you have names for those anniversaries? For example, my husband and I were set up by a mutual friend and met in person for the first time on a blind date. Today is the fourth anniversary of that blind date, and for the past few years we’ve always just called this day “our anniversary.” But last summer we got married and now, as our first wedding anniversary approaches, it’s occurred to us that we can’t keep calling May 5th “our anniversary” if July 24th is “our anniversary” too. I mean, by definition, an anniversary is something that occurs once a year, so you can’t very well have two of them, can you? Now do you see why this is such a serious issue here? Keep reading »
There are lots of good reasons not to go looking for love on Craigslist — namely, getting stabbed by some creep. But The Frisky will condone Craigslist dating “experiments” of the feminist variety, like the one conducted by Alexandra Tweten, a blogger for Ms. magazine. Tweten posted a W4M personals ad on Craigslist in L.A., describing herself as a feminist journalist, and urging only pro-choice feminist guys to respond.
The responses, as you can imagine, were discouraging. (But at least she only got two photos of penises, right?) Keep reading »