Before deciding who we should date in 2012, we’re updating our annual DO NOT DATE list — an essential component of every single gal’s resolution portfolio. We firmly believe that an important part of dating is knowing which suitors to say “no thanks” to. After the jump, a full overview of boys to avoid for a happy, healthy dating year. Keep reading »
Well, 2011 was a hell of a year, wasn’t it? We’ve almost made it through, but did your resolutions? Last year, we gave you some great resolution suggestions — among them to learn something new, date outside your “type” and end toxic relationships — but we’re sure you had your own ideas. So tell us: did you stick to your 2010 New Year’s resolutions?
I like you as much as Robert Smith hates Morrissey. I like you more than Kathleen Hanna likes banishing the idea that one sex is better than another. Oh hell, I like you more than ’90s alt-rock radio — which is a lot. [Cheira a Banana]
I believe this guy is what they call “husband material.” A rich, gooey, chocolatey center is as good a reason as any to tie the knot. I mean, he could get messy in bed, but Duncan Hines’ Brownie Husband makes dating the Gingerbread Man look like a joke. Can they please invent this for reals? Or at least have a storyline about Brownie Husband on “30 Rock”? [FYI, I realized upon looking at the photo that it's from a "Saturday Night Live" commercial parody and the woman is actually Tina Fey. Which is a funny coincidence given Ami's "30 Rock" reference. -- Editor] [Prickly Legs]
For the new year, women go to extreme lengths to ditch old baggage: we clean out our closets, buy new “essential” wardrobe pieces, start looking for new jobs, vow to lose a few pounds or even get full-on makeovers. But sometimes our “special someone” is the real dead weight that should be tossed out. Here are 10 signs that Mr. Right has become so wrong. Keep reading »
When I got my period for the first time, my mom wanted to throw a party. She had the whole thing planned. There would be a circle of women — many of them her friends, who would talk about womanhood with me, share their womanly wisdom, and tell rousing tales of menstruation. My mom would present me with a special bracelet, ordered from a catalog of all-natural products, that somehow symbolized my transition from girlhood to womanhood. The red beads were supposed to represent my various life-stages. Or congealed menstrual blood, or something.
“Ohgodpleaseno,” I said, when she told me about her plan. Keep reading »