Leonardo DiCaprio and Blake Lively are dating. And — at least according to The National Enquirer — Blake was none too pleased when she was at Leo’s New York apartment recently and discovered a suitcase full of lingerie belonging to his ex, model Bar Refaeli. Allegedly, she flipped out, and Leo—being the gentleman that he is—promptly marched down to the dumpster to destroy the evidence. A nice save, considering his first reaction probably went something like, “Don’t worry, she just hasn’t picked it up yet.” [CelebSlam]
We feel (insecure?) for Blake. We too have had unfortunate experiences with traces of exes past in guys’ homes. After the jump, some stories from Frisky staffers and friends. Cringe for us, please. Keep reading »
I saw “Transformers: Dark of the Moon” over the weekend. In 3-D. And I am so not into action movies. Now to be fair, my boyfriend had already bought tickets to “Horrible Bosses” for us, but I found myself wanting to please him since I knew he would much rather watch the Decepticons than Colin Farrell. I called him and suggested we see “Transformers” instead. Well, he jumped on it, returned the original tickets and immediately reserved our seats. “Babe, it’s going to sell out. We have to get there early!” he said, so excited.
Oh, the things we do for love. And lust. And infatuation. (And perhaps desperation, too). Have you ever found yourself doing things you said you would never do for a boyfriend, or a guy you’re dating, or even just a guy you want to date? I posed this question to the rest of The Frisky staff. So, take a moment and stop folding skidmark-stained undies and check out these 22 things we thought we would never do for a man—until we did. Keep reading »
Last night I did something I’ve never done before: I slept naked, alone, in my bed.
I usually sleep with my window open — there’s a screen, of course — so gusts of wind can circulate in my room. Last night, though, there was not a single gust of wind. It might have been 75 degrees outside at midnight and maybe 80 degrees in my stupid bedroom that doesn’t have air conditioning. I flipped and flopped and wondered how my pillows could possibly feel so warm. At last, I decided the only thing left to do would be to take my pajamas off — my “pajamas” being a summery romper that weighs, at most, three ounces.
Let me be clear about something: I never sleep naked, even if I’m sleeping alongside a dude and even if we just had sex. It feels so … bare to me. I have to wear underwear and pajamas — top and bottom preferably, unless it’s summer and I’m wearing something lighter — or else I can’t fall asleep.
As you can imagine, this has not been such a popular opinion with dudes. Keep reading »
Dating is a verifiable mess these days, but oh, it was so much weirder and wilder back in ye olde times (not counting that date you went on with the “Welcome Back Kotter” obsessive). We’ve found some of the more random traditions and customs of days gone by for you to stick your smelly apples into (you’ll see what we mean in a minute)…
My mother and many of her second-wave feminist peers view pornography as an institutional ill that is degrading to women and damaging to developing sexuality. She believes that the camera-ready angles, waxed and plastic body parts and pervasive depiction of extreme acts as “normal” distort human sexuality and give young porn-viewers a whole bunch of false and dangerous expectations.
My mom is a smart lady, and she’s not wrong. While I agree that some porn (okay, most of it) fits the bill she describes as damaging, I don’t find the filming and viewing of sex acts as objectively offensive. In other words, I think that porn is not inherently problematic, but its content often includes problematic ideas and attitudes. I also believe when viewed as entertainment, porn can be a positive element in the repertoire of adult sexuality, Keep reading »
There’s this (amazing) song on the soundtrack to the (terrible) movie “The Romantics” called “We Can’t Be Friends” by Lenore Scafaria. My favorite lyrics go:
“I want to wear a skirt, I want to make mistakes,
I want to kill you first and then take your name,
I want to tear you apart, I want to make your bed,
I wanna break your heart, I want to break your head,
I guess this means we can’t be friends.”
In the days, weeks and months following a big breakup, I listened to this song on repeat. Every word of it spoke to me (especially the part about breaking his head). We’d said to each other on our first date, moony-eyed, that even if this didn’t grow into anything, we should still be friends.
Two years later, it couldn’t be more obvious that we could not be friends. My friends don’t sneak around behind my back. My friends don’t email me lists of the things they don’t like about me. My friends don’t threaten to throw out my stuff. There’s a hell of a lot of things my ex-boyfriend did that I wouldn’t stand for if one of my girl or guy friends were to do them. Why should I make concessions for acting like a d**k just because we had been in a romantic relationship together? What would that prove?
This cropped up again recently when a guy I’d been going on dates with for about a month ended it with me. Hormones, as I’ll call him, said he didn’t have strong enough romantic feelings or see long-term potential for us. Yadda yadda yadda. That is fine. I understand. I appreciate that he was honest about it. But then Hormones told me that he hoped we could be friends. Keep reading »