After I broke up with my sweet college boyfriend, a decent man who never ran me through the ringer, who responded to my bouts of recklessness and immaturity with compassion and sympathy, a guy who never did me wrong, I desired nothing more than desire itself. After years of slow and steady, I yearned for spark and drama. Conveniently, along came Matt.
Keep reading »
Every year, countless articles decry men for our unwavering desire to date supermodels. Real women don’t look like that, we’re told, and there’s nothing wrong with a few extra pounds.
The thing is, most men agree with that statement. If we didn’t, the human race might be in a bit of trouble. Still, magazines, TV shows, and movies show women with perfect (as in emaciated) figures, big (as in back-breaking) breasts, and ideal (surgery-enhanced) faces, and real-looking women ask: Do guys really want to date models? Keep reading »
“I fell and really hurt myself. Could I come over?” I sobbed on the phone to John, the guy I’d just begun seeing. I’d been coming from drinks with friends and had slipped down the stairs to the subway, twisting my ankle, as well as badly bruising my tailbone and my pride. Now, even though I wasn’t physically hurt, I felt shaky and wanted to be taken care of by a potential boyfriend.
“Well … ” I heard hesitation on the other line. “Now’s not really a good time. What happened?”
“I fell on the subway stairs,” I whined pathetically, even though, in the back of my mind, I knew I was fine. I knew all I needed was Advil and a large bag of ice. I know I should have told him that. But I didn’t. Keep reading »
You’re flirting on IM and email; the phone calls are long and romantic — this guy seems too good to be true! But there’s an obvious catch: he lives far away. The solution: visit him. Seems simple enough, but hot stuff, it’s not! Sure, romance means always taking a chance, but before you run off to visit your long-distance lover, don’t get swept away in the fantasy of it all. As someone who has been burned by such a seemingly sexy endeavor, I implore you to check yourself before you emotionally wreck yourself. Sure, on one hand, he could be your dream man and a trip like this could be the beginning of a beautiful long-distance relationship. But on the other hand, it could end with you running home to cry to your gal pals about the vacation time and money you just wasted on a big mistake. So, before you, my friend, start booking travel arrangements, here are some ways to ensure you’ll be getting what you came for when visiting that out-of-town beau.
Keep reading »
For some women, first date preparation is a leg wax, a blowout, and brand-new, five-inch pumps. For others, it’s a swipe of lip gloss.
But for me, it’s always at least a solid hour of internet research. To me, pre-date Googling is less a verb than an Olympic-style event of decathlon proportions. There’s the phone number check, there’s the email address cross-search, there’s the quick dip into the search box of his alma mater, then there’s also a quick perusal of his Facebook page, and, occasionally, his friends’ Facebook pages. Keep reading »
I sat on the couch straddling him, our chests pressed together and my hands pulling softly on his hair as we kissed. For the past half an hour, we’d been slowly unpeeling our many layers of clothing and we were down to just my pair of lacy underwear and his boxer briefs. We’d had a lovely third date—I adored that he called me “Ringlets,” just like Sawyer dubbed Kate “Freckles” on “Lost.” As the conversation veered into sexual territory a few times, it became more than obvious that, tonight, we were ready to seal the deal.
“Shall we take this into the other room,” he said, pointing towards his bedroom. We stood up and he grabbed my hand, leading me down the hall. I sat down on the side of his bed, and he stood before me. Good lord, he was hot. I began to take off his Calvin Kleins.
“Can I go down on you?” I asked, looking up at him. As soon as I said it, the question struck me as strange. Had I ever asked this before? Was this a question with more than one answer? After all, on our list of “27 Things Men Never Say,” the phrase “I’m not really into blow jobs” came in at number eight.
“No,” he said. Keep reading »
This weekend I went out on the town. I met one of my only single girlfriends out at a bar, drank a bucket load of prosecco, and watched her make out with an off-duty cop from New Jersey. I made excuses that I was exhausted and was back at home, in bed, at 2 a.m. Kelly was slightly disappointed in my turning in early. “This isn’t the Amelia I remember,” she scolded. “Next time, you’ve got to be out until at least four.” I promised her that next time I would be. But I was lying. Keep reading »
Je suis désolée. I’m sorry. I spent some time last week reading my posts from the past two months and realized that, well, I’ve been a complete Debbie Downer lately. This is the supposedly adventurous life of some girl in Paris??? I thought as I clicked through. Sure, the whole Alex fiasco was definitely a dramatic romance, but looking back at my words, I saw how I was missing everything around me. My waking up was in part prompted by a random IM from an acquaintance back in NYC. An older man with whom I’ve always had a guiltily flirtatious rapport with. When I told him I’d been a bit down lately, he almost berated me. “You have to have adventures. You are so free now. You’ll see: later, there will be no time for this type of stuff. You need to just go places and see things.” For a moment this made me depressed. As if I were barreling headfirst towards this place of older age and responsibility, and was already regretting not being more fun right now. But then I saw that he was right. Why do we spend so much of our lives living in the future? Or lingering in the past? Why does it never occur to you to just not think too much about things? (Well, because it’s really hard to do this, but it shouldn’t be.) That day, I made two swift decisions. Keep reading »