What to say, oh, what to say about an anonymous Thought Catalogue essay that starts, “From the beginning we knew our relationship looked like a cliché—perhaps plucked from a boring episode of ‘Mad Men.’ You, my 21-year-old millennial intern, me, your 30-something married boss with two kids”?
“To The Millennial I Left For My Wife (And 8 Parting Words Of Advice)” is a hate-read from the first line. Sadly, it only gets much, much more hate-able as it goes on. I don’t mean to spoil the surprise for you, but this wannabe modern day Don Draper leaves his wife and two kids for his millennial intern. They have a few great “magical” and “addictive” weeks together “dancing on the dock of a river” and stealing kisses in an elevator. But soon, everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Why? Oh, because “serious differences emerged from the shadows” and “common backgrounds also forged common problems.” God, I HATE when that happens. Keep reading »
It was a Tuesday afternoon and I was on my therapist’s couch. I described for her an incident over the weekend when I felt sad, deeply sad, for seemingly no reason at all. I had felt reclusive and shy and wanted to stay in my bed; when my husband encouraged me to go to a birthday party that night that I actually wanted to go to, I had started crying. I’m a sensitive person, sure, but even while I was crying I knew my tears didn’t make much sense.
I shared some other strange behavior changes lately. I’ve been more hungry than usual, more often and ravenously so. I get snappish when I can’t eat immediately (hangry, I believe, is the technical term). I’m usually pretty easygoing, but lately I’d been having random mood swings. I was beginning to feel embarrassed about my behavior.
“You’re emotional … your appetite has changed …,” she paused. “Have you considered that you might be pregnant?” Keep reading »
Now that I’ve been single for a couple of weeks, I’ve been upping my online dating game in hopes of meeting some eligible bachelors. I spent a solid three hours this weekend updating my OKCupid profile, adding new photos of myself and just seeing what’s out there, and I even created a profile on HowAboutWe.com. Since then, I’ve found myself chatting with a handful of potentials— a witty lawyer, a CrossFit enthusiast (I know, I know), a financial consultant and a bearded guy who works for an airline, whom I’ve appropriately nicknamed “Wings.”
In the past, I took a pretty reserved approach to online dating, letting others message me first and skimming through my messages every once in a blue moon. But this time around, I’m doing things differently. I’m going to reach out to the people I want to talk to and cut through the bullshit early on by being my most honest self from the get-go. If your first message to me simply says “hi,” without any thought behind it, I’m deleting it. If your profile is vague and you’re not making an effort, I’m not interested. The old me is gone, and the new, no-nonsense dater is here to stay. Thankfully, my new approach seems to be paying off. After multiple exchanges back and forth with Mr. CrossFit, I received a very straightforward message from him in response to my telling him I’m a “picky dater.”
“So am I,” he confessed. “So, let’s be straight with each other. What are your dating dealbreakers? Please, be 100 percent open and honest.” Keep reading »
Rumors of a third “Sex and the City” movie are in the works, and I’ll be honest, I’m a little excited. I didn’t love the second movie (did anyone?), but I love the series. Like so many viewers, I feel like I know those characters and that they just get me — minus the show’s leading lady.
Carrie Bradshaw is a nightmare. She’s the worst example of a female role model I could ever think of, and an awful representation of single life in general. My fury at Carrie has gotten so bad that I find myself shouting at my screen when watching the show. I wish, more than anything, that I could shake her by the shoulders and ask how on earth she could be so clueless. Here are some things I wish I could scream at Carrie (besides “BE NICE TO AIDAN!” because that would fill hundreds of pages all on its own) — with accompanying GIFs of Carrie being annoying, naturally. Keep reading »
Taylor Swift and Lorde have been spending quite a bit of time together — shopping, frolicking barefoot on the beach, wearing matching outfits — prompting many onlookers (including us) to refer to them as BFFs. But let’s be honest: as any BFF-havin’ lady knows, wearing matching outfits is only, like, level 3 out of 300 when it comes to a true best friendship. As a female friendship blossoms, the milestones come flying in fast. Some are fun and some are gut-wrenching — the first time you make a joke that makes your friend laugh so hard she farts; the first time you get crushes on the same guy; the first time you come up with dorky nicknames for each other; the first time you get in a fight that’s not instantly fixable. Should T-Swift and Lorde to make a real go of it, here are some BFF firsts they have to look forward to. Keep reading »
So, you think you’re ready to be a mom, huh? What kind of questions did you ask yourself: am I financially viable, is my partner on board, do we have room for this baby? All good markers of motherhood preparedness, I suppose, but let’s get real for a second.
It isn’t until I had a baby that I realized all of the above was only the beginning. Was I ready for the kind of sleep deprivation torture the folks at Gitmo only wish they’d dreamed up? Take the “Are You Ready To Be A Mom” quiz on The Stir…
In the months leading up to my move from Portland to Nashville, my life wasn’t exactly going smoothly. My family situation was growing more stressful by the day. Some of my closest friendships had turned toxic. I felt extremely out of place in the hipster culture that dominated the city. My boyfriend wasn’t happy in his job and was getting increasingly depressed. I suffered from terrible anxiety that had started around the time my neighbor’s house had been broken into, and kept me awake most nights, convinced that every creak of our old apartment was a robber prying open the downstairs window.
Those long nights gave me lots of time to think about how unhappy I was, and what I could do to fix it. Therapy, new friends, better self-care, meditation, and sleeping pills all came to mind (and in fact, I’d tried many of them already), but all these potential solutions were always eclipsed by one word: leave.
When I started telling friends and family members how miserable I was, I noticed a common thread in their responses. I’d reveal my plans to move away and start fresh, and they’d gently touch my shoulder and say, in hushed and concerned tones, “You can’t run away from your problems, you know.” Keep reading »
Breakups suck, whether you’re the dumper or the dumpee. No matter which end of the fray you’re on, there follows a mourning period, a delicate time in which you probably lash out at friends, obsess over details of the way things ended, and make ill-advised decisions about ice cream for dinner and browsing on Tinder. It’s impossible to make generalizations about how long a breakup takes to process, because every single relationship and situation is its own special snowflake. I can’t tell you what it feels like to be a part of your breakup, because only you were there to experience it. The adage about using an equation involving the amount of time you were together as the “x” factor for how long you should be upset after it ends is stupid, plain and simple. That being said, here are some rough guidelines on acceptable mourning times, from someone who has been through her fair share of breakups. But feel free to ignore them if you feel like wallowing for an extra month or six. Keep reading »
Let me preface this by saying that not all of my online dating experiences were bad ones. I met handful of nice, normal guys who weren’t for me and one nice and normal enough man to have a 6-month relationship with. But there were also so many who weren’t nice or normal. There were so many messages that made me feel utterly demoralized about dating and months where I would go without getting a single message from someone I would remotely consider meeting in person. All of this led me to wonder: Who is getting messages?
With the help of OKCupid’s co-founder, Christian Rudder and some OKTrends data, NYMag.com tracked down a few of the the most desirable singles on the site, statistically speaking, and asked them just…HOW? The most sought after straight woman in New York City (technically, one of the top five most desirable women who was also willing to be interviewed) was 23-year-old makeup artist Lauren (handle: formerly nebulaeandstuff, now loandthecosmos). The 5’5″ curvy atheist, who likes “hockey, whiskey, swimming in an open ocean, down comforters, astronomy,” receives about 245 messages a week and has more than 8,000 five-star ratings from other men (!). But take heart, because even the most desirable woman on OKCupid admits to being pessimistic about her prospects of finding love. In the two years Lauren’s been on the site, she’s only gone on about 20 dates. Below, I’ve tried to cobbled together some Lauren’s secrets in the hopes that they might help the rest of us win at online dating. If that’s even possible. Keep reading »
Dr. Drew Pinsky’s daughter, Paulina Pinsky, first came out about her seven-year struggle with anorexia and bulimia in a brave essay she penned for the Columbia Daily Spectator in November 2013. The 21-year-old junior at Barnard College described the moment she revealed her secret to her mom in her essay “Get Your Teeth Checked.” She wrote:
I paused, but before I knew it, the words were out of my mouth … “I’ve been throwing up since the seventh grade.” … [T]he words flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to take them back. The following moment was the longest and most painful silence of my life; I felt like my stomach was going to fall out and that I was going to projectile-vomit onto the windshield. After a silence that lasted far too long, [my mom] responded. “Well, get your teeth checked.”
Keep reading »