My name is Winona and I am a slob.
Growing up, my mom affectionately referred to my bedroom as “the pig sty,” and rightfully so: the clothing, books, art supplies and cereal bowls that covered the floor would often reach knee-height before I felt the urge to tidy up a bit. At some point my brothers began gathering up the trash from their cars and setting it my room instead of putting it in the garbage. Months would pass before I found the bags of Slurpee cups and cracked Green Day CDs.
When I moved into my college dorm, my roommate was also a slob, and within months the trek from our doorway to our beds had become eerily reminiscent of the scene in “Star Wars” where Luke Skywalker falls into the Death Star’s garbage compactor. Keep reading »
My first concern when preparing for my appointment was: What I should wear? Sure, I was going to be stripping down to nothing, but maybe I could strip down to nearly-nothing instead? I looked through my closet. What could I artfully drape over my body while still keeping the safe spots — shoulders, ankles, torso — bare? What did I have that could simultaneously reveal and conceal? Why in heck had I never purchased anything with ruching?
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It’s one of the quintessential (and sometimes dreaded) first date questions: What kind of music are you into?
There’s a reason that most people tend to side-step this question with a deft, “A little bit of everything.” It’s because your taste in music reveals a lot about you to potential partners. Here’s the breakdown of 71 bands/musicians/singers and what they say about you… Keep reading »
“I met someone I really like,” my friend Greg*, who’s gay, announced.
“That’s great!” I said. “Is it serious?”
Yes, he felt it might be. But that hadn’t stopped him from keeping his options wide open while finding out. Greg proceeded to tell me that since meeting his new romantic interest, he had hooked up with three other guys, had a man that he saw when he was in town from San Francisco, and 12 others that he was flirting with online. Keep reading »
As I surveyed real friends, Facebook friends, Twitter friends, and total strangers about having sex on the first date, the unfortunate cow comparison came up no fewer than five times in my first twelve interviews. Everybody complained about it, bemoaning the lack of nuance, the icky imagery, and the overt transactional implications. And yet, it kept rearing it’s ugly little antiquated head. Are there kernels of truth buried there? Is first-date sex a relationship nonstarter? Are we, as we often claim to be, past the era of plastering A’s on each other’s chests? Keep reading »