Whether he’s the one can’t be known, argued twice-married writer, Christopher Hitchens. Hitchens passed away this week at the age of 62.
There are some lessons that can’t be transmitted down the generations, and the most conspicuous of these is the choice of your life partner.
There’s no damn heritability. In fact, this is a case where you can’t even profit by other people’s mistakes. Which of us has not seen a friend whose parents didn’t get along make the very same blunder? Which of us has not seen a person from a happy family ignore her mother’s fine example? Which of us has not known a couple, contentedly living in sin, fly apart as soon as they tie the legal knot? All I have learned, from absorbing moisture on both shoulders, is that what you find out about others is almost never what you would have expected. And as for yourself… Keep reading »
Whether your summer breakup still stings, your fall heartbreak feels fresh, or your holiday heartache has yet to happen, one thing’s for sure. The holiday season is here and dealing with a broken heart can be especially tough during these “feel good” months. After all, there are holiday gatherings to attend, mistletoe to stand under (GASP – alone!), and happy couples cozying up to one another wherever you turn.
Even with your broken heart, you can still enjoy the holidays this year. Here are some tried and true tips for surviving and thriving the holiday season following a breakup. Read more…
It’s holiday time and you know what that means: home-wreckers are sharpening their claws and any other WMD (weapon of marriage destruction) that they can. Hey, it’s the loneliest time of year – but that doesn’t mean she can’t use your guy to keep her warm through January!
Seriously, it’s no coincidence that this time of year can prove to be dangerous to your relationship if you’re not mindful of potential threats to it. Experts talk about December as a toxic time of year for monogamous relationships and the milquetoast men behind them. “The holidays are the time when ‘husband stealers’ go on the prowl — especially at office parties,” says Dr. Carole Lieberman, a psychiatrist at UCLA’s Neuropsychiatric Institute who’s written the book on home-wreckers – literally. Her latest award-winning manifesto, Bad Girls: Why Men Love Them & How Good Girls Can Learn Their Secrets, details 12 types of “bad girls,” including the “husband stealer” aka the home-wrecker.
So, how can you tell if one of these home-wrecking types has your relationship in her crosshairs and, if so, that your man has let it happen? Here are eight signs you’ve been home-wrecked, after the jump! Keep reading »
When Trevor posted a Facebook suggestion that we go somewhere tropical where he could “teach me to scuba dive” and we could “smile again,” I jumped at the chance.
Trevor was six foot one, built like a SubZero and fluent in, at last count, five languages – several of which were dead. I was almost exactly half his size – a slender 120 pound, 5 foot 7 brunette with overwhelming ambition. We’d dated in graduate school, nearly eight years before, and after I joined Facebook we’d flirted back and forth. Keep reading »
Back in college, my best dude friend laughingly told me a horrifying — and quite possibly apocryphal — story about a “friend of a friend” whose one-night stand lost control of her bowels during a particularly energetic bout of anal sex. Embarrassed for the woman, I tentatively asked what the man did at that point, figuring he’d gotten angry or flipped out or ran into the bathroom to vomit.
“Oh,” my friend said nonchalantly, “Duh. He took her into the bedroom and kept going.”
The story’s stuck with me for years and not just for the gross-out factor: the more I’d hear about women afraid to crap in their boyfriends’ apartments or in shared hotel room bathrooms on weekend getaways, about psychosomatic constipation related to the mere presence of a man with whom a woman was having sexual relations, the more I’d think about the nonchalant way men talk about shit and wonder if we were really just doing all of this to ourselves. Is it really that men (or, at least the kind of men you’d want near your genitals) need us to be poop-and-fart free to want to fuck us, or have we just convinced ourselves they did? Or, worse yet, are we projecting our own learned squeamishness about our bodily functions onto men, as a way to rationalize yet another internalization of the “our bodies are gross” myths that pervade society? Keep reading »