As a free-spirited 26-year-old, I support a wide range of lifestyles. But I’m just not into sharing the same dating pool with my mom—a fit, fun-loving, blonde bombshell of a 50-year-old. After all, the term “cougar” is only funny if your mother isn’t one.
A glamour girl in suburban Baltimore, my mom was bound for the ranks of “heartbreakers of a certain age” long before her marriage to my father—a great dad but an admittedly crappy husband—crumbled a few years ago. The object of many younger boys’ affections, she had the lifeguards at our pool drooling and my lacrosse player friends deeming her a “M.I.L.F.” By the time I got to college, I wasn’t fazed by the frat boys who swarmed around her during parents’ weekend. They would take turns spinning me and Mom around on the beer-soaked dance floor, until I told her it was time to go home. Keep reading »
I keep forgetting that the French don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. When it occurred to me last week that the holiday was around the corner, I wasn’t sure what made me more depressed: A) Celebrating in Paris with some bastardization of the meal—I picture foie gras stuffing or turkey cassoulet; B) Not being with my family; or C) Leaving Paris to be with my family. I’d have to go with C … it’s been nearly three months since I arrived, but I only just feel like I’m settling, and the thought of going back to the U.S. right now leaves me scared that it would somehow break the magic of everything.
Lucky for me, I got the perfect compromise. My sister and her husband decided last minute to come over for a visit, so I’m pumped to spend the week with them not eating turkey, and gorging myself instead on gooey cheeses, crêpes, and butter-infused dishes (as if that’s any change from my diet now). The only issue—American Boy is expecting to meet them. Uh, what? Keep reading »
I’m not a lesbian. But, I do have lots of lezzie friends who have complained about the lack of gay online dating options. Now, Velvetpark Media has launched a lesbian dating website called Velvetpark Mate. Writes site editor Grace Moon: “[We are] the first lesbo dating site … because we are NOT an affiliate program, or an ‘out of the box’ 3rd party package with a lesbian label slapped on it, NOR are we an afterthought of a male dominated media company, or the unwanted stepchild of a straight date site.” Keep reading »
The holidays are right around the corner, and if egg nog, stuffing and Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” do mysterious things to your libido—fear not. We suffer from the Holiday Friskies, too. We feel your sexually frustrated pain. Whether your parents’ guest bedroom has you aching for another’s or a holiday getaway is in order, there’s nothing like a few guilt-free days off to initiate a bold try with what’s-his-name from high school or that-one-over-there at the resort bar (if you’re fancy). Regardless, the holidays are a perfect time for a no-strings-attached fling. Here are a few ways to make it run exceptionally smooth.
Keep reading »
You should have known better. Or maybe you did; you just didn’t care. You’d heard the horror stories and the admonitions: “Don’t date a/you r… ” But some things are easier said than done, and forbidden fruit tastes so much sweeter. Keep reading »
A year and a half ago, I sat on my therapist’s black leather couch, talking to him about the last few guys I’d gone out with. I’d been on a cold streak—one where I’d meet a guy and be very taken with him, only to never hear from him after our second or third meeting. (Usually, the second. But you already know how I feel about that.) I was starting to ask myself the question that far too many single women ask themselves: Am I doing something wrong? Or worse: Is there something wrong with me? My therapist had a thick European accent, which I liked, since I felt like it gave extra weight to his words. “You present yourself as a strong, accomplished woman,” he said. “I wonder if men sometimes feel intimidated by you.” I practically rolled my eyes. Really, this was his advice? I started to fight him, explaining that I don’t think being accomplished is a problem, and if a guy sees it as such, that’s really his issue.
“I’m not saying don’t be successful,” he said. “I’m wondering if you could show them some of your vulnerability.” Ding ding ding. He was completely right. I didn’t have to pour my soul out to strange men, but I could easily share with them the part of me that wasn’t so sure about everything and that wondered whether I had made the right career decisions, etc. I left his office that day feeling like I had made a breakthrough. But now I think that one conversation may have ruined my dating life. Keep reading »
Last night I was thrown for a loop when I ran into a long-ago ex at a party that he had no business (that I could fathom) attending. I was not happy to see him. In fact, over the past ten or so years, I’ve made it a point to avoid being anywhere he might be. I haven’t been pining; he’s someone I actively avoid because he’s psychotic and I had no idea what he—or I—would do if we ever crossed paths again. I’m not a violent person, but the thought of stabbing him in the eye is not an unpleasant one.
When you’ve tracked as many laps around the block as I have, you’re bound to run into the occasional ex—even the ones you’d rather forget. As the rage disappeared along with the tequila in my glass, I got to thinking about how just the random act of running into someone can ruin, or make, your day. Keep reading »
When I showed up at the bar, Doug* had not arrived yet. I had seen his picture (he was an online acquisition), so I knew roughly what to expect. I am not a superficial broad and I can usually find just about any dude attractive if he has a good personality. Based on the few emails we exchanged, I felt fairly certain that at worst Doug and I would bond as friends. His emails were funny, honest, and open. “Now that’s what I’m looking for!” I thought to myself. “A guy who can communicate!” Keep reading »
“So … I’ve kind of been hanging out with American Boy,” I confessed hesitantly on the phone to my friend, S. I held my breath, a bit worried about what she would say. S and I went to high school together (she is, in fact, my only remaining friend from high school), and she now lives in Paris. It was through S that I met American Boy in the first place—they’ve been friends for a while, and I met him at a group outing in a bar back in September. I wasn’t sure how S would feel about me tumbling into bed with one of her good friends. Not that she would be disappointed, necessarily, but that she’d maybe feel awkward about the whole scenario. I should have guessed that it was just me who felt awkward about the whole scenario. Keep reading »