All this time, we were thinking that marriage was a challenging institution requiring love, commitment, effort, and compromise. But according to a new study done at the Geneva School of Business, the likelihood of success in a marriage can actually be predicted with mathematical precision. Researchers claim to have cracked the formula for wedded bliss: The woman should be five years younger than the man, from the same background, and 27 percent more intelligent. I’m assuming that 27 percent is the difference between a bachelor’s and a master’s degree? Keep reading »
I’ve made no secret of the fact that I eventually want a long-term, committed relationship and kids. But I’ve recently come to the realization that I also don’t think I ever want to share my living space with another adult. For the first time in my life, I live alone and I love it. These two desires — to have kids with someone and to live alone — do not really go hand in hand. Crap. Keep reading »
One of the biggest time sucks on the internet for me, besides reading “Lost” theories and playing online Scrabble, is reading dating columnist and “lifecaster” Julia Allison’s blog, as well as the blog that mocks her mercilessly, Reblogging NonSociety. I have no excuse; I just find the whole thing entertaining and hilarious, and it’s not like I’ve managed to quit reality TV or my bronzer addiction either. Anyway, this past weekend Julia celebrated her 29th year on Earth by having her second annual Bicoastal Birthday Bash, in which she and a friend celebrate their birthdays to the XXXTREME on both coasts. (You know who isn’t celebrating? Mother Earth! Nice carbon footprint, right?) We’re talking cupcakes, costumes, balloons, presents, brunches, dinners, and lots, and lots, and lots of photos. In short, I am pretty sure Julia celebrated her 29th birthday with more self-obsessed gusto than all my birthdays combined. Which got me thinking — aren’t there some things you are just too old to be doing at the ripe ol’ age of 29? I’m 30, so maybe my extra year of wisdom makes it possible for me to see this, but there are at least 29 things every woman is too old for as of her 29th birthday. Check ‘em out, after the jump … Keep reading »
Readers Elizabeth and Jackie thought of The Frisky when they were on vacation in Venice, Italy, and spotted this graffiti.
Have you seen graffiti that’s kind of sweet (even if it is against the law)? Send your pic to firstname.lastname@example.org.
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There is that scene in Bridget Jones’ Diary, where, Bridge (as she’s called) lies on her couch, pajama-clad, bottle of vodka clutched tightly in hand, bemoaning the fate of an untimely death for a single person. She worries that if she were to die, alone in her apartment, it is likely that someone would find her decomposing body three weeks later half-eaten by an Alsatian.
I too fear the fate of an untimely “single” death. I imagine my distraught mother, overcome with grief, forced to go through my things. Her sadness only magnified as she discovers the true, mind-blowing total of my credit card debt, and then the small stash of “emergency” illicit prescription drugs in my bedside table. I can see her coming to the realization that I’m not the daughter she imagined, but her image of me will truly be shattered when she opens the drawer that I use to store both my vibrators and my financial statements. I can just see the horror pass over her face, as she realizes that her daughter was not only a bit too sexually adventurous, but also was unfamiliar with exactly what a 401K is. Keep reading »
We were laying side by side, both face deep in our iPhones—checking our email one last time before going to sleep, setting our alarm clocks for the next morning, basically saying goodbye to the day. I turned to him, his face lit by the tiny screen, and watched him scroll through his Facebook newsfeed.
“Anything exciting?” I asked.
“My cousin really loves Drew Barrymore. Check out the exclamation marks.”
“Should we change our relationship status?” I asked, as if that were the natural follow-up. Keep reading »
Dating. It’s the nightmare from which you never wake up. Why do we do it? Because it’s the best way to find the guy we want to marry. And why do we want to get married? So we never have to date again. Find out the seven types of guys you’re more than likely to end up dating along the way. Don’t say we didn’t warn you, girlfriend. Keep reading »
Some women are forever attracted to jerks. Others are great at building healthy relationships with good guys. Still others are addicted to unrequited love. Everyone has a pattern. Me—I find myself, on repeat, forging relationships with men who don’t think we’re actually dating. In other words, I’m an expert at the “fakelationship.”
So what exactly is a fakelationship, you ask? If you’ve ever been in one, you know it. It’s a “friendship” where you text, email, talk on the phone, and hang out pretty much constantly. Where if 48 hours goes by without some kind of contact, you feel like something big is missing from your day. In some fakelationships, you hook up while maintaining that you’re “just friends.” In others, it feels purely platonic, though the level of emotional dependence is way stronger than a typical friendship. Think “When Harry Met Sally,” before the titular characters realize they’re actually in love.
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It took me three days to come up with a witty and grammatically correct text to send to Scrappy Bathroom Boy (not the best nickname I realize), the guy I’d met at the Prescription Cocktail Club last Saturday. Why is it so hard to find my personality in this language? I wondered as I made revision after revision of the message in French. Finally, on Tuesday, I trashed my drafts and went for something simple and direct: “It was nice meeting you. Sorry, I just wasn’t up for the late night thing last Saturday, but would have liked to join you and your friends. If you want, maybe we can get a drink sometime this week.” Phew! My heart raced as I sent it off. I couldn’t help holding back a smile at the thought of finally going on a date. When was the last time I had been on one? It had to be early November with American Boy. November. Jesus. Keep reading »