Who was the first person you called the day your ex dumped you? Or that time you found a weird bump on that very private body part? Or the day you stumbled across that pair of barely worn Christian Louboutins at the Goodwill?
If you’re like me, you called a girlfriend. While I love my man and adore my cats to what some might consider a scary degree, the relationships I have with my girls is on an entirely different plane. They’re the funniest, smartest, weirdest (in a good way!) gaggle of broads I’ve ever met and I feel lucky every day to have them around.
It wasn’t always this way. I’ve had to prune my posse (please note that I’ve also been kicked out of people’s lives as well) and have discovered some types to avoid. Keep reading »
I finally ended a friendship I’d had for about 13 years. The woman and I had gotten to a point where we knew very little about each other’s lives because she constantly canceled plans and wouldn’t return phone calls, and I decided I didn’t care to make an effort without some reciprocity. Basically, we had outgrown each other. This means, I’m down to about three girlfriends. One lives in the south. Another lives about two hours away by public transportation and rarely wants to meet somewhere in the middle. And the third is finding herself now that she’s come out. I’m faced with the dilemma of making new girlfriends and the outlook ain’t pretty. Keep reading »
Women always seem to ask me where all the good men are, as if these near-mythical dudes are hiding behind bushes, chained up in some vampire’s basement, or are just rare and elusive, like the snow leopard. Normally, I have to resist responding, “Maybe the good guys are just avoiding you.” But the answer to this frequent, lovelorn lament is simple: The good men are right under your nose. And that’s the damn truth.
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“Are you going to go to Rosh Hashanah services?” my sister asked me on the phone last week, and my gut instantly churned. Not because I’m now separated by the Atlantic Ocean from my family on the Jewish New Year, but because: a.) I had forgotten about it and b.) I didn’t feel like dealing with it.
“It’s tomorrow? And what year is it in Jewish anyhow? 18 million or something? I didn’t really make any arrangements. Maybe I’ll just fake going to services so mom and dad don’t freak.”
“I know you’re not religious, but aren’t you at least afraid of the wrath of mom?”
“I’ll repent for it a week later on Yom Kippur.”
Every year, when Yom Kippur, the day of repentance rolls around, I reluctantly put on a conservative pencil skirt, pack into the family Subaru, and fast for a day. At least I’ll lose a little weight, I think. Because why would I need to repent? I’m a good person. I haven’t killed anyone. I haven’t seriously offended any of my friends or family. I eat my vegetables. I even vacuumed under the bed. Once. Keep reading »
Recently, a number of good friends of mine told me they’re getting into the friend zone with guys they’re interested in romantically. I had a little bit of advice for them, but then realized this was the perfect opportunity to reunite with some old friends. Thoughts from the guys on our IM, after the jump. Keep reading »
Over the weekend Amelia and I watched “I Love You, Man.” How friggin’ cute are Jason Segel and Paul Rudd in that movie?! Our girl boners salute you boys! But it seems chicks aren’t the only ones who melted at their adorable bromance. My gay BFF has been complaining that his Craigslist cruising has become more tedious thanks to the glut of straight dudes posting to find their very own platonic man relationships. Guys across America have been looking for another kind of playmate on the internet, like online dating minus the sexy. Could it be the go-to slut finder website is attracting more guys looking for pals than pu**y? Heck, it’s become so popular, there’s even an e-card about finding man love! Dang, dudes can be so sweet sometimes. After the jump, what some of the men are looking for…
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I had a crazy dream last night. I was at the top of a construction crane — the ones they use for high rises. I should mention that I am an architect by profession. The crane was yellow and I was at the very top of it holding on like someone holds on to a ladder and I was looking down at everything below. The crane was moving in a circle, which really put me off balance. I wanted to get down, but I was paralyzed with fear of falling, as this thing spun around slowly in a circle over the buildings below. I looked down at the crane operator, and he smiled and waved. I said, “I’m sorry! I just climbed up here to have a look.” He gave me a thumb’s up. He wasn’t worried about me at all. He trusted that I knew what I was doing as he spun this thing around. I finally started to climb down like a ladder and I met two other guys. They were also hanging on ladder-style. At one point, an elevator the size of a small phone booth rushed by, and the other guy holding on moves his hands just as it passes so it doesn’t knock him down. And I’m thinking, “Man! These guys do this all day, and they don’t get tired and they have no safety harness…..that’s pretty amazing.” So I’m shooting the breeze with them, but I really want to talk about how I’d love to find a way to get that elevator to come by, so I can get in and get down. But there was a feeling of not letting go of the rungs, to grab the other rungs to get down and just being a bit frozen like a cat in a tree hanging on. Any thoughts? – Hanging On for Dear Life
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Thank goodness for caller ID. It’s saved me many a time from having to suffer through a three-hour conversation with my aunt Judy (or “Jawdy,” as I call her). Don’t get me wrong; my aunt is a sweetheart, but she does ramble on.
We all have that person in our lives who just can’t seem to get the hint that it’s time to end a conversation. It can be really difficult to avoid feeling rude without spending your entire day chatting it up, but it is possible. With a little social finessing, you can say “hi” and “bye,” and be on your way. Read more … Keep reading »
Blame my older sister, the kindergarten teacher, but I believe in the Golden Rule. Whether you’re my boss, my intern, my boyfriend or my third-cousin-twice-removed, I will treat you with the same amount of respect as everyone else.
Why am I wired this way? Other kids were really cruel to me from grade school through high school—whether putting Scotch tape in my hair during class, calling me “Cabbage Patch Kid” because of my chubby cheeks, or circulating my name on a list where girls were ranked by their hotness and I was rated 3 out of 10. That stuff made me feel terrible most of the time and I don’t want anyone knowing what that’s like. Instead, I try to be kind to every person, regardless of how popular/attractive/smart they are, and not be a kiss-ass, ever.
It’s striking to me, though, how not being an ass-kisser has ruined my friendships with some very pretty women. In fact, my only friendship Titanics have happened when I’ve stood up to extraordinarily beautiful women and lost out. The Pretty Girl wanted me to play by her rules; I didn’t want to do it, so Pretty Girl read me the friendship riot act and ditched me. Forever. Keep reading »