When I decided to revamp my life according to the principles of Helen Gurley Brown’s Sex and the Single Girl in order to write my memoir Falling For Me, I not only committed to learning to cook, decorate, put myself together and tackle a whole bunch of new activities (ceramics, anyone?) but I also agreed to embrace at least a few of her ideas for meeting men. Keep reading »
Celebs—they’re just like us! Despite their good looks and mega bank accounts, they have a rough time on the dating trail too. Take, for example, miss Tori Spelling.
“Back in my 20s when I was on ’90210,’ I was at a club one night and bumped into a guy that I hadn’t seen since high school. At the time, Donna Martin was making crappy boy choices, but I was determined to find The One! … [We went] to the chicest, most expensive and trendiest new restaurant/lounge in Beverly Hills … He announced, slamming down his menu, ‘I’m not very hungry. What do you say we just get drinks?’ … Four rum and Cokes and two hours of a one-way conversation later, I was way too drunk and bored … I was feeling sick. Actually, the room started spinning at this point … I excused myself from the riveting conversation and bolted for the bathroom … I pushed open the door, smiled with victory, and walked right into—the kitchen. The whole kitchen staff looked up at me. I put my hands up to cover my mouth, but I knew it was too late. A waiter rushed over with a massive copper saucepan where I proceeded to vomit the four rum and cokes and the Cliff Bar I had had at 11 a.m. into it. It was Donna Martin prom night all over again.” [Us Magazine]
Wow. That does sound truly horrendous. And also an amazing story. Click on for more celebs on their most terrible dates.
I’m waving the white flag here, Universe; I’m officially burnt out on Internet stalking my crushes. I’m sure his Facebook Timeline is gonna to be bitchin’, but I just can’t summon it in me to give a crap about his pictures, videos, and/or status updates. Sorry, boys! Keep reading »
He will be just like Richard Gere in “Pretty Woman,” I thought. He will be tall, handsome, dreadfully rich, with salt and pepper hair, and an insatiable desire to buy me shoes. He’ll probably be a complete gentleman. Have a reservation at some super swank restaurant. He’ll think I’m captivating over champagne and oysters. He’ll love that I’m the stereotypical starving artist. By the end of the night he’ll be so head-over-heels that he’ll offer to pay off my student loans and take me to Paris. Maybe after a month he’ll want to give me a head-spinningly generous allowance and buy me an apartment in the Village. You know, just to keep things easy and comfortable for me so I can have more time to go on auditions. And of course, he doesn’t even expect me to have sex with him.
This, of course, is what I pictured my sugar-baby misadventure to be like.
Keep reading »
This piece originally appeared on The Frisky and The Good Men Project in February, but is being republished on both sites as the film “What’s Your Number?” hits theaters nationwide.
Judging from what I read online and hear from my students, the question of the “number” is as compelling as ever. This month, Marie Claire ran an article, “What’s Your Number?” in which five women (whose numbers ranged from zero to 100) told their stories. The March issue of Cosmopolitan Australia features the same discussion, noting that 59 percent of readers surveyed thought knowing a partner’s exact number was important, and that 33 percent of those same readers had lied about their own pasts, claiming fewer sexual partners than they’d actually had.
The more men his girlfriend has slept with, the greater number of lovers to which she can compare his skills. It’s easier to win a contest against two than against 20, he figures.