I’m single, which is working out great because I hate grooming. My ex is awesome, but between you and me and the internet, she could be a total bitch about “soap and water.” Whatever! Now I’m free to wallow in my own filth and believe me, I stink hard. Sure, I look like a lumberjack raised by monkeys, but that’s not why I go to the movies alone. I go to the movies alone because I might as well get used to it, seeing as that’s how I’m going to die. Alone. When I was younger, bourbon was my primary emotional coping mechanism. But since then, I’ve become an adult. Instead of drowning my feelings in delicious brown magic water, I express them to my bestest friends on Twitter. Why, just last night, I twooted the funniest twitter tweet, which was “WHY? #Why?” But I know why this happened and I think it’s related to that one time she said “I love you” and I responded “Baby Stewie is a hilarious character! A baby that speaks like people!” Keep reading »
Awful first dates (and second dates … and third dates …) are The Frisky’s bread and butter. But every so often the goddesses smile upon us and we’re blessed with a first date to call your mom about instead of your therapist.
Not to brag or anything, but I had a kickass first date this weekend. We went to the Bronx Zoo together and he didn’t run for the hills when I tried to climb into the red panda cage and give it a hug. Then he asked if I wanted to get dinner, so we took the subway all the way downtown to my favorite Venezuelan restaurant. We got some Starbucks, sat in a park talking, and finally saw a movie together before heading our separate ways. I didn’t want it to end!
OK, now I’m just bragging. But my point is that I had the best time. And because I had a two-hour train ride home at the end of the night, I had a lot of time to think about just what it is that makes a great first date. Keep reading »
I recently spent the weekend in bed with a terrible stomach bug. At the stroke of midnight on Friday, I began puking my brains out, and what didn’t come up as vomit came out the other end. The next day, I thought the worst of it — the diarrhea — was over, but I was still happy when my boyfriend Nick showed up with supplies to calm my still-upset stomach. We hung out in bed, watching cartoons, while I drank ginger tea and tried to stop passing gas. One particularly gross fart sputtered forth and I sat very still. Keep reading »
It’s time again for “Dear Wendy Updates,” a feature where people I’ve given advice to in the past let us know whether they followed the advice and how they’re doing today. After the jump, we hear from “Weighty Issues,” whose long-distance boyfriend told her that while she had a pretty face, her weight had started bothering him. “I have dropped some weight since I’ve first known him,” she wrote, “and currently wear S-M shirts, US size 8 in pants.” She went on to say: “I sometimes want to end the relationship because of this and because he doesn’t seem to be as attached as I am, but a part of me wants to see what happens next year.” Well, it’s now “next year,” so after the jump, find out what she decided to do. Keep reading »
We were just waiting for Emily Maynard to jump from “Bachelor” Brad Womack’s loveboat. His “I’m a perfect guy now” facade was crumbling by the second during the finale. What was her first hint? When he got angry at her for questioning that his desire to be a father to her daughter was enough? How dare she! Or was it when Brad’s brother warned her “not to poke the bear”? If there’s a bear within capable of being provoked, you best believe we’re not sticking around to make its acquaintance. We’re glad Emily decided very wisely not to walk down the aisle — at least for now. After the jump, some things a guy could say that would make us hightail it in the opposite direction. Add yours in the comments. Keep reading »
I had just started calling J. my boyfriend when he asked me to move in – rather, told me I was moving in. He had posted my apartment on Craig’s List “just to gauge the response” and within an hour received six. At work when he delivered the news, I kind of freaked. I like my independence. I like my space. And when it comes to fight or flight syndrome, I’m like the Road Runner – Beep, Beep, Zroooooommm, I’m gone! Keep reading »