A new study found that when the going gets tough financially, we want to curl up next to the most feminine wimps we can find, whereas if we are worried about ailing health, we’ll run straight into the arms of a burly man. Why? Because we want the wimps for their nurturing qualities and the manly men for t
hey’re their superior genes, according to Australian researchers. Ahh, so the flailing economy may be to blame for the current taste in male sex symbols being of the more feminine persuasion. Sorry Russell Brand. Not that I’m knocking girly men here. I love them and I always have. Maybe this is because I’ve always been poor. I mean, I was a former goth. My first boyfriend wore fishnet gloves and guyliner. And he wasn’t the last. Feel free to make fun of me. [Daily Mail UK] Keep reading »
“I have to introduce you to my cousin Logan*,” my childhood friend told me emphatically one weekend when I was home from college. “He’s really good looking—if he were taller he could be a model.”
“… OK,” I answered with trepidation. I was 19, and my freshman year of college at a small, cloistered university in the middle of the Bible Belt was not going well. My stomach turned to knots. I was trying so hard to fit in without fitting in that it was driving me crazy. For some reason it felt like if I got involved with a guy it would fix things. Logan was 24 and seemed nice enough.
The problem was, I was a virgin when we met, and at 19 I was among the last of my friends. Virtually inexperienced, I felt it was time to get it over with. In hindsight I should’ve listened to my gut. Keep reading »
This weekend, I received a text from my good friend Cara, letting me know she’d run into my ex-boyfriend out front of a local bar. (The ex that broke up with me over IM and then moved four blocks away, because he’s a really cool guy.) Apparently the first thing he said to my friend was, “Julie hates me,” which I took as a half-hearted attempt to elicit sympathy and pity, and reassurance from Cara that I didn’t (no, no, I do.). Thankfully, she didn’t buy his act, and told him that, well, yes, he probably could have handled our breakup better (see aforementioned breakup-over-IM for reference). But did I really want to know my lady friend had run into my dumb ex?
Well… Keep reading »
It’s happened to the best of us. We go on two or three seemingly perfect dates with the guy we’ve been obsessing over for the longest time, and then…nothing. No phone call, no texts, no anything! All communication ceases, and we’re left wondering what the hell happened? Automatically we switch into it-must-be-my-fault mode. “Was there something in my teeth?” “Maybe he didn’t like what I was wearing?” “Is it because I ate like a slob at dinner?” “Am I a bad kisser?”
Then we turn to our best friend for advice, and of course she proceeds to ask you the very same questions you asked yourself. As the cycle of self-incrimination continues, we realize we’ve taken the guessing game way too far, far to a point where we almost don’t even remember what the guy in question even looks like anymore.
Then one day, I got sick and tired of the blame game and decided to come up with my own reasons for why guys don’t call us back. Read more… Keep reading »
The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. I am the mouse in this metaphor, Spontaneous Guy is the man, and the plan is to have “The Talk.”
Per Dr. Diana’s instructions, I carefully crafted a strategy to initiate the exclusivity talk with Spontaneous Guy. We had plans on Friday night to go to a friend’s rooftop party together, spend the night at my place, and take a long walk along the Brooklyn Waterfront on Saturday. Keep reading »