One day as I was walking around the city, a few hours after I’d peed on a stick in my office toilet and that tell-tale plus sign came up, it dawned on me that every single person I was passing—every single old man, young child, bored teen, chubby woman, skinny fashionista, homeless guy, what have you—began life in the very same way: via a freaked-out woman who didn’t know what the hell she was getting herself into. Keep reading »
The first time I questioned my sexuality was when I was 12 years old. My family and I were in Las Vegas for my uncle’s wedding. Twelve was an awkward age because I was boob height, meaning not tall enough to look people in the eyes, but short enough so that it seemed everywhere I looked there were boobs, boobs, boobs. If you’ve ever been to Las Vegas you’ll know that in addition to the huge casinos, ginormous buffets and larger-than-life hotels, Sin City also seems to draw particularly busty women. It’s hot there and they walk around in plunging necklines and strapless dresses and wear tiny bikinis by the pool. So I was walking around at boob-height in a city where cleavage rules and I realized, to my horror, that I liked it. What’s more, all these women with their breasts hanging out turned me on. Keep reading »
A few years ago, I slept with your husband. Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t some kind of an apology. Nor is it an explanation. And, trust me, I’m not looking for your forgiveness. Because here’s the thing. All these years later, you don’t even know. Or at least I don’t think you do. Sometimes I see you, and sometimes I see him, and sometimes I see the two of you together, and it’s like nothing happened. But if you ever wake up one day and realize what happened, here’s why I slept with your husband. Keep reading »
Allow me to be neurotic for a few hundred words.
I’ve been back on the online dating circuit for a grand total of 4.5 days and I already hate it. The whole process, frankly, kind of hurts my self-esteem. It makes me feel like the last kid picked in dodgeball. The site that I’m using affords you the opportunity to know who’s been looking at your profile. On one hand, it’s a great way of weeding through the hundreds of “matches” in my area, so I can focus on the men who found my thumbnail photo cute enough to deem worthy of further review. On the other hand, those same men, upon clicking deeper into my profile, did not have their interest piqued enough to send me a message, add me to their “like” list, or grant me a “wink.” Keep reading »
Sarah Silverman took a really strong stance in the fight for marriage equality via her Twitter yesterday. She has called on everyone to boycott marriage until it’s legal in this country for all adults, regardless of sexual orientation. But is this fair? Should heterosexuals and homosexuals in select states show their solidarity by protesting marriage altogether? Tell us what you think in the comments! [Twitter] Keep reading »
If this isn’t the greatest argument for gay marriage, I don’t know what is. Can’t we all just get along and play ping-pong? [BuzzFeed] Keep reading »
Add this to your grab bag of fun facts about finding love that will not actually help you one bit. A new study done at University of Trier in Germany found that our taste in romantic partners is determined by our mood. Before I get to the results, my favorite part of this study is the method they used. I’ll spare you all the details but let’s just say that nudie pics, ice water, and warm water were involved. Are we sure this is a scientific study and not some glorified sex game?
Anyhow, researchers found that when we are relaxed, we tend to attract mates who look more like us and whom we’re more compatible with. But in times of stress, we are more likely to pick a partner who bears no resemblance to us. Is this further confirmation that we’re all raging narcissists when it comes to love? Not exactly. The theory is that humans have evolved to be less picky about choosing a mate carefully when times are tough. Isn’t that just what we call “desperation”? [Daily Mail] Keep reading »
We here at The Frisky spend most of our time working away deep inside the blogging mines, unearthing the best webternet content we can find. It’s not easy. But someone has to do it! And that is us. Occasionally, we do take the time to have a good time, and every good time, as everyone knows, involves a nickname. For example, in high school: I was very tall. And people called me Big Bird. Did I like that? Well, no. Or, should I say, maybe? A nickname is a sign of endearment, so if you want to know what to call Amelia next time you see her rocketing down the sidewalk, your handy guide is after the jump. Keep reading »