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 »
The way Francesco broke up with me was as simple as it was shocking. It was a Saturday afternoon in July and we’d just seen a movie at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. Riding the subway back downtown, we sat side by side, him in an inexplicable and smoldering silence. Then he got up and walked out of the train. I never saw him again. Keep reading »
Every week, the gentlemen over at GuySpeak answer questions from women the only way they know how: in guy style. Then they handpick some of their favorites and send them over to us to answer (read: fix) them in girl style. We call it GuySpeak/GirlSpeak. This week — how do you help a guy understand the difference between flirting and being creepy?
Oh, wise one, I require your sacred advice. There is this guy I flirt with sometimes, and its all good until the flirting turns into lewd comments. Is there a polite way to tell him he crossed the line without totally turning him off?
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Contrary to what your mama might have told you, “just be yourself” is not always the best advice. Almost all of us have something we’re insecure about, and while years of pricey therapy might eventually banish self-doubt, I’ve found that the best way to get over it in the short-term is to refuse to acknowledge it exists in the first place. What some call denial, I call common sense … Keep reading »
Normally, we are encouraged to stop blaming our parents for our problems. But a new study proves that it may be good ole mom and dad’s fault if you’re a single lady with few prospects. Turns out, our ability to attract mates may be linked to our genetic makeup and Australian researchers have located some immune system genes in female DNA that may be responsible for reeling in the dudes. Aha! I knew it wasn’t my fault! Keep reading »
“I think today might be the one day of the year where it’s socially acceptable to get wasted alone,” I wondered aloud as Emily and I walked past some heart-shaped decorations in the window of one of the many anonymous-looking Chinese restaurants lining the streets of Belleville. It was Sunday, Valentine’s Day, and we’d spent the morning in yoga class and were now walking back to the metro together.
“Awww,” she said, consolingly. “Well, I think Valentine’s Day is kind of like New Year’s. Usually a letdown. But totally, you can drink.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll cook something nice too,” I said, immediately reflecting on the guilty secret that has been my life for the past few weeks: working in bed for most of the day, reluctantly dragging myself out into the cold to find a pathetic dinner of baguette and cheese or yogurt and cereal. It made me remember that I’ve been so lazy lately that I hadn’t bothered to do the dishes after most of these meals, and that my apartment was a complete disaster zone.
We walked on in silence, both ostensibly sad because of the lovers’ holiday. Me, because I’m completely alone. Emily, alone as well because her boyfriend lives in Spain. At that point, it seemed only natural that, yes, I’d cook tonight, and Emily should come over so that we could have a girls’ night, drink some champagne, and feel sorry for ourselves. I felt relief because the thing is, I’ve never had any feelings about V-Day before, but this year felt like a slap in the face because last year, I’d spent it with Alex … Keep reading »