If you call yourself a “feminist“—which basically means you believe women deserve the dignity, rights and respect afforded to men—then you can relate to how peeps come out of the woodwork to tell you you’re either being “too feminist” or “not feminist” enough. Some people think feminism should be a spartan existence where there’s no frivolity allowed, on principle: no makeup, no “Sex & The City, and definitely no getting married!
The dumbest criticism of feminists we’ve ever seen happened when some people freaked out over the engagement of Jessica Valenti, co-founder of Feministing (and one-time Frisky blog!) to her boyfriend, Andrew Golis, deputy publisher of the politics blog, Talking Points Memo. Gettin’ hitched, apparently, is “antithetical” to feminism. Keep reading »
Blogger Tracie Egan from Jezebel is getting married, and she’s made some pretty awesome, inexpensive wedding invitations. Check out “Craft Cheese” to find out how to DIY your wedding invites for not a lot of money and create something that looks chic, not “crafty.” I love the stark black and green silhouette image of their faces, which Egan designed herself on her computer, as well as the decorative framing illustration that echoes her husband-to-be’s last name. In a cool flourish, she printed real stamps that bear the wedding logo. All told, the project took her 20 hours, an experience she describes as “therapeutic.” [One D at a Time] Keep reading »
Yesterday, I came across a wedding story in the Washington Post that caught my eye: “In the End It’s a Fairy Tale.” Who doesn’t like a happy ending? It was the wedding story of interior designer Kerilyn Fox, 34, and chef Peter Russo, 38. The bride describes their path to the altar as “part fairy tale, part ‘Jerry Springer’ episode.” They were together; they broke up. He proposed; she turned him down. She moved in with another man; finally, she left the other man for Russo. Fox says they were “meant to be,” adding, “In the end it’s a fairy tale. I’m marrying the man of my dreams.” The story is accompanied by a photo slide show, and while they seem like a happy, well-matched couple, I couldn’t help but notice Russo looks to be morbidly obese. That got me wondering: Would you marry the man of your dreams … if he was obese? Put your thoughts in the comments.
NOTE: The Washington Post requested that we take down the photo. So we did. Keep reading »
As I was taking in a soda pop and the morning interweb browse today, I noticed that one of the Kardashian sisters became engaged, “Whoopty-doo hurray!,” I thought. I was pretty happy for Kim and her guy Reggie Bush, I mean “finally,” right? They’d had a tough go of it, but maybe it’s just meant to be. But it wasn’t Kim Kardashian getting engaged. Which means that it must be have been Kourtney Kardashian, the expecting sister who is yet unmarried and unbetrothed. Way to “do the right thing,” Scott Disick, I thought. But I still was guessing the wrong Kardashian. It turns out that baby Khloe Kardashian is going to beat her older, diminutive sisters down the aisle. Keep reading »
The good news: my boyfriend has engagement rings on the brain. The bad news: he’s been reading the Freakonomics Blog on the New York Times website. Why is this bad? The Freakonomics economists solve puzzling economic capers of day-to-day life, most recently tackling what a “bad investment” it is for a man to give his girlfriend a diamond ring:
Q: It doesn’t seem rational for a young man to give his girlfriend an expensive engagement ring when he proposes. My thought is that the most efficient use of that dollar is to invest it into something that a young couple would value most e.g. a down payment on a first house, etc. The diamond market is a monopoly and diamond prices are manipulated so that prices are always high. Can you construct a concise and logical argument that young men across the world can use to not buy diamond rings? After all, you already are offering the most valuable thing that you have (your heart) to your soon-to-be bride. In this age, why is a token like an overpriced rock still needed?
In response to this penny-pincher’s question, economist Tim Harford replied, “I tend to agree with you.”
Uh oh. Keep reading »
How we missed this cuteness in last weekend’s New York Times, we have no idea. Rowland Fellows, 84, and Beth Ashley, 83, met when they were 13 and 12 years old, respectively, and their families were both vacationing in Five Islands, ME. Back then, they were friends, but Ashley had a major crush on Fellows. “I thought he was very, very cute,” she said. “I kept wishing he would kiss me and become my boyfriend. It was a little girl crush, but it was very serious on my part.” They saw each other every summer for four years, but crush never developed into anything. “I guess I just wasn’t a very romantic young man,” Mr. Fellows told the Times. “But Beth was sort of a tomboy, and I looked at her as more of a buddy.” Poor Ashley had been relegated to the virtually inescapable friend zone. Keep reading »
When I was a teen, I crushed on many, many older dudes. When I was 14, there was Rob, who worked at my local video store and was easily in his mid-20s; at 16, I had it bad for Tony, who was also in his mid-20s and wore Tevas (don’t judge!); and at 18, Jesse, who was six years older, but had known me since my boobs were just mosquito bites. I imagined that all of them would see past the age difference and fall madly in love with me too, but I didn’t really have a prayer of it actually happening. Maybe I should have been a little more ambitious — and had a little more faith — like Jessica Rosen, who, after 18 years, married her childhood crush, the cute doorman who began working at her Upper East Side apartment building when she was just 12 years old. The New York Times profiled the couple’s wedding this weekend. More romance, after the jump… Keep reading »
Sometimes I forget things. I don’t mean my keys or why I went into the kitchen, although I forget those too. I mean I forget bigger things. I forget to be thankful, to marvel, to bask in my life and the people I live it with.
This economy has driven my husband out on the road. He’s working as a consultant. He leaves on Sunday afternoons and comes home on Friday nights. Read more …