Two months ago, I packed up my life into all the suitcases and storage boxes I could find. My kitchen supplies went in storage. A Reiss cocktail dress I’d bought to wear for my own engagement party at some unforeseen date went to my sister’s. My books are still piles up in my parents’ living room. I left baby photos of Ex-Mr. Jessica, given to me by his grandma back when he referred to me as “the one,” behind in our old bedroom along with my housekey.
Moving out of the apartment I shared with my ex-boyfriend was worse than the breakup. He made the breakup easy on me, in a way, by treating me badly. I felt hurt about being dumped, of course, but mostly I felt angry: I didn’t deserve to be dumped so suddenly, to have another woman waiting in the wings, to basically have been kicked out of my home, and to have my possessions threatened. I still feel blood-pumping anger about all that. Moving out felt so final and being forced to do it against my will totally sucked.
I’ve spent a lot of time on my own these past two months. I’ve done a lot of thinking and hurting and growing. I feel ready — or mostly ready — to leave my parents’ house in Connecticut where I’ve been staying and move back out on my own again. A single woman. A city girl again. Sigh. It turns out moving out on my own again is hard, too. Keep reading »
“Oh god, mom, he broke up with me!” I blubbered over the phone, I was crying so hard my face resembled a marshmallow.
I had decided to stay in bed for two days and was starting to become very ripe and slightly unhinged. Needless to say I was not taking this well at all.
“Should I call him? How do you just leave someone? I really needed him and he dumped me!” I said between sniffles.
My relationship with my now ex had taken a turn for the worse over the past five months. I was stressed out at my job, and had decided without much consideration to go back to school full-time. My mood had changed adversely, and I had proven to be very difficult to be around. I became needy and mean, all at once. It had come to the point where I barely even recognized myself. Keep reading »
Happy Ash Wednesday! I’m not religious; is that the proper sentiment? Anyway, today begins the 40 days and 40 nights of Lent, a period where Christians — particularly Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, and Presbyterians — sacrifice for Jesus, often by giving up some sort of vice. Like I said, I am not religious and won’t be getting smudged at my local church today, but I will be giving something up for Lent because, well, why not? Keep reading »
Sometimes the worst part of dating is having to endure the cliche phrases that accompany it. I swear, if one more person says, “He’s just not that into you,” I’m going to jump into my oven and never come out. It was fun back in 2003 when the phrase debuted on “Sex and the City” and then became the title of a book (and then a movie!), but let’s be honest, it’s totally played out. I get it. I grasp the concept. He’s just not that into me and if he was, he would be. Next PLEASE? I beg of you single population-at-large, let’s make dating somewhat hip again so we can feel non-lame while engaging in it. After the jump, some dating phrases that we need to put the kibosh on. Add your suggestions for replacement phrases in the comments. Keep reading »
This week’s column was inspired by a recent article on MarieClaire.com entitled “Why Men Prefer Innocent Girls To Bad Girls.”
The other day, some guys and I were chillaxing in my pal Josh’s sweet hot tub doing what guys do which is hang out and be real and we were discussing “innocent” girls versus “wang-hungry she-beasts.” Across the board, the guys agreed they prefer an “innocent” woman, like a nun or a coma patient or a 16-year-old girl, over a “bitch.” And then Josh was all “dude you got a boner” and everybody high-fived and a couple hours later we all put our clothes back on. Keep reading »