Over at Nerve.com, Steve Almond takes on VH1′s “Rock of Love” and asserts the latest installment in the reality TV series, “Rock of Love Bus,” is, basically, pornography. According to Almond, the show is “eerily like a porn film,” absent, he says, feeling or intimacy, while everyone stands around groping and tonguing each other, nevertheless, and totally misogynist. But is “Rock of Love” misogynist — or reality? Keep reading »
In my twenties, I dated a guy who was 12 years older than me. In my thirties, I went in the other direction, dating a dude 11 years my junior. (Don’t you dare call me a cougar!) Although both ended rather badly, I feel like that while the gaping age difference didn’t directly cause either relationship’s demise, it certainly didn’t help. Mostly because I wasn’t very graceful about handling it.
So, learn from my mistakes. Whichever way your May/December relationship skews, there are certain pitfalls you should do your best to avoid. Keep reading »
As many of you who have been reading The Frisky for awhile know, I was engaged for much of the site’s lifespan. I was with my fiance for four years when he proposed on New Year’s Eve 2007. I wrote about being engaged for The Frisky in a regular column, “So I’m Engaged.” When he suddenly left me last September, I was, frankly, devastated to the point where I could not get out of bed. I missed a week of work and lost about 10 pounds. I felt absolutely mortified by the existence of those “So I’m Engaged” columns and couldn’t stand the thought of anyone reading them. They felt like the words of someone in a one-sided relationship, and their existence hurt me and embarrassed me. So, I took them down. Keep reading »
In a recent column on the Huffington Post, “Why I’m Single,” writer Lea Lane lists all the reasons that she’s still single. Why? So she can send the URL to all the nosy, possibly well-meaning busy-bodies who keep asking her why she isn’t in a relationship.
Lane presents a persuasive case; it almost made me wish for the days I, too, had the whole bed to myself. She’s one of what I’ll call the “Happies,” women who are perfectly content with their single status. They don’t want for a companion; they love their solitude and have enough friends, hobbies, and passions to keep themselves busy. Although, most Happies, like Lane, are “open to options, and do understand the beauty and wonder — and blessing — of a good relationship,” they neither actively seek one nor passively hope and pray one comes their way. The Happies say they don’t need a relationship to be content, and, by God, they mean it. Keep reading »
According to a study published in the journal Archives of Sexual Behavior, the length of time a man looks at a women the first time they meet can be an indicator of how he feels about her. So, next time you go on a blind date, bring a stopwatch. The study, which tracked eye movements of 115 students as they spoke to actors and actresses, found that men looked into women’s eyes for an average of 8.2 seconds if they thought they were beautiful. When they rated a woman as less attractive, they only looked at her for around 4.5 seconds. Now, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but eight is a lot of seconds to be looking at someone. If a random guy in a bar looked at me for that long, I might think he had a staring problem. To give you an idea of how long a guy will look at you when he thinks you’re hot, listen to this clip from the Britney Spears song “If U Seek Amy,” which is eight seconds long. [Telegraph]
While watching your buddy cry her eyes out over some unworthy jerk isn’t nearly as painful as getting the heave-ho yourself, it’s still difficult. Most of us want to help our BFFs through breakups, but what do you say? Or, more importantly, what shouldn’t you say? Keep reading »
I have had some bad dates. Not the yelling or fighting type. Not the kind where anyone gets left in a restaurant. No, my bad dates are the ones you don’t want to tell anyone. You know you could win the prize for worst date, but the prize is not worth your dignity. In fact, most times you don’t think about them. Maybe if you pretend they never happened they will magically be erased. Keep reading »
“So?” he asked me. “Is there anything else you want to say?” Keep reading »
Devil get behind me, it’s cold and flu season. Maybe it’s because I grew up with a mom who refused to categorize any of her five kids as officially “sick” unless fluids were exploding and the temperature hit well into the hundreds, but I am not the person you want taking care of you when you’re not feeling well. Conversely, when I’m under the weather, the first thing out of my boyfriend’s mouth is always an offer to rub my chest down with alcohol just like his Greek mama used to do when he was a kid. No, thanks!
I’ve found there are two types of patients—the cranks and the crybabies. I’m more of a crank. I want glasses of cold water, complete silence for the duration, and whatever medications I’m taking within arm’s reach. Don’t talk to me if you don’t want to get yelled at. Keep reading »
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