“Shortcuts” is a new feature of “Dear Wendy” in which I answer readers’ letters in two sentences or less because sometimes the answer to a person’s question is so obvious and the need to hear it so great, being as clear and frank as possible is simply the best way to go. Here we go with round three … Keep reading »
A few weeks ago, my girlfriend and I were in a pizza place and a group of big, drunk guys wearing sports jerseys and smelling of beer walked in. We were just leaving and as my girlfriend stood up, I looked at her and thought, “Wow, I’m so lucky to be dating her.” I couldn’t resist leaning over and pecking her on the cheek. Before you freak out, I didn’t suck on her neck or stick my tongue down her throat. I said peck. On the cheek.
But the boisterous jocks went silent and one of them whispered, “lesbians.” My girlfriend and I smiled and I rolled my eyes. Seriously, how could anyone be so juvenile? But as we were walking out the door one of the guys yelled something like, “Hey, do you girls like DILDOS!?!?” and the whole group just cracked up. Swearing, I turned back, determined to give those jerks a piece of my mind. But my girlfriend grabbed my hand and pulled me across the street.
“I was surprised you kissed me in front of them,” she said once I was done cursing. “I mean, you knew that would happen.” Keep reading »
I have had my share of one-night stands. In fact, a significant percentage of the people I have slept with in the nearly 10 years since losing my virginity have been one-time deals. There was that guy at Mardi Gras — hold on … have to ask my friend what his name was … damn, she doesn’t remember either. Laird! His name was Laird, right? Anyway, there was Andrew, my realtor, who showed up at my apartment in the middle of the night and I was like, “Hey, why not?” The second guy I had sex with was also a one-night stand — his name was Sean. He was really good-looking and when it was over he said it had been “lovely” and I remember he had a cute face, but I cannot remember how we ended up in bed together.
What I also didn’t remember, until recently, was that most of these one-night stands didn’t make me feel very good the next day. Keep reading »
Tobey* was the perfect guy to date right after my divorce. He was cute, fun, and had a body like a gymnast. He was younger than I was, but not too young. He liked the same things I did: eating good food, going to the movies, and strolling around Manhattan. He was a great kisser and even better in the sack.
Then he told me I needed grooming.
Not just any grooming. Down there grooming. Keep reading »
I am canceling dating. That’s right. The public negotiation for sex, commitment, and marriage between two strangers that begins with “Do you want to go out Friday night?” is now officially over. Kaput. Adios!
It’s too much drama. Stress. Money. It’s nothing but awkward conversations, uncomfortable clothes, and mediocre Thai meals. Nobody seems to enjoy it anymore. Women are bitterly disappointed by the whole process. Men are apathetic towards it. It’s a broken system where no one gets what they want. It’s all push and no give. Women talk about dating the way they’d talk about a root canal. Men don’t even talk about it. In fact, my gender has pretty much already canceled dating – referring to it, instead, as “hanging out.”
What’s the point? Keep reading »
At brunch on Sunday, my friend Liza explained to me what she calls “the phone call rule.”
“Now that I’m out of the ‘one-night stand’ game, I have a rule that if I hang out with a guy that I’m dating, even casually, and we engage in intimate activities, I tell him that I would appreciate a phone call from him the next day.”
“Really?” I asked, my jaw kind of dropping.
“Yeah. I politely tell him that a phone call the next day represents respect,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be a long phone call, or anything. I just want him to ask me if I’m doing OK or tell me he had a good time or whatever. Is this really too much to ask?”
My first reaction was, “Yes.” Then again, this is coming from a girl who felt weird asking a guy I had just engaged in “intimate activities” with to help me find a cab at 3 a.m. Keep reading »
If you had brain cancer, would you date a neurologist? Would you sleep with a chiropractor to ease your chronic back pain? Around my twentieth birthday, I was hit with a sudden onset of crippling depression and anxiety. After two years, several doctors and a veritable rainbow of colored mood-altering capsules, I still felt hopeless. With no cure in sight, I fell for a psychotherapist. Keep reading »
Yesterday, I stumbled across this list of dating theories from an anonymous dude who claims to have over two decades of dating experience. That’s a confirmed bachelor, all right. Most of his theories were funny (“Women Who Begin Emails With ‘Hey You’ Are Crazy”) and some were straight-up genius (“Drinking Red Wine On Dates Is The Best”). This got me thinking about some of our favorite dating theories over here at The Frisky. Check out our assorted theories after the jump, and share yours in the comments. Keep reading »