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 »
Couples can get into real trouble when it comes to the guessing game — as evidenced by this little clip, featuring Broad City star Ilana Glazer. Sometimes it’s so much better just to come out and tell your partner what’s going on, ladies. [YouTube]
In “Young Adult,” Diablo Cody’s new film opening Dec. 16, Charlize Theron plays Mavis, a divorced novelist who returns to her home in small-town Minnesota determined to rekindle a romance with her high school boyfriend. Mavis may have gotten older, but she hasn’t exactly grown up or figured out how to let go of the past.
Luckily, we have! In addition to the lessons we’ve learned about love and friendship since we were tossing our caps in the air at 18, we’ve also gleaned some pearls of wisdom about life in general. Check out the seven things we’ve learned about life since high school after the jump! Keep reading »
This fall the strangest thing started happening to me. I’d be walking down the street, and person after person after person (mostly women) would be staring at my face.
The first couple times I assumed what anyone would assume: I had food in my teeth or my lipstick on my face or a booger hanging out of my nose. But then, the first, second, third time, I looked in the mirror, I didn’t.
The stares continued. So many women, day after day. I wanted to stop them and ask, “Why?” There was no way this many strangers were suddenly interested in my face. It was the same face I’d always had.
Then one day, one of my gawkers whispered to her friend, “It’s Kat Dennings!” Keep reading »
When you’re 32, have no serious romantic prospects besides the one(s) in your head, most of your close friends are getting married or having babies, and the only thing you’re sure of is that you’d like to have a baby someday too, you spend a lot of time thinking about how that’s going to happen. I am not proud of being a chick flick stereotype, believe me, but I looked in the mirror this morning and that’s what I saw and, well, time to face facts. Keep reading »