I am in an open marriage. I know what you are probably thinking because, the first time a friend said this to me, I quickly felt myself growing judge-y. My knee-jerk thought was, She’s just doing this to please her husband. How sad. And then, Oh, they must want raise their kids commune-style. Can’t relate. But now, years later, I’ve realized that every relationship is unique, and it’s about finding what works for you.
So far, I’ve found a way to make my relationship with my husband, Edmund, keep its charm, passion, intimacy and commitment. And it has happened by opening the gates. Keep reading »
People talk a lot about the rules of dating. Pshaw! Rules? What rules? Dating requires you to to be a ninja. You barely have time to contemplate your ever-changing instincts let alone consult your antediluvian rule book. However; there is one rule that I consider my duty to adhere to, probably because it’s the thing I dread the most. To me, it’s the Golden Rule of dating and I believe the rest of humankind should be bound (perhaps by law) to follow it as well. Daters of the world, Thou Shalt Not Ghost.
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When I first saw Wendi Deng Murdoch spike that foam-pie-throwing comedian-protestor’s head like a volleyball, I giggled with glee. Then I sighed with relief. Here, finally, was a portrayal of an Asian woman I could embrace. No timid China doll or obedient geisha, no mere trophy wife, Deng was the tiger wife, defending her assets – er, I mean husband – with a single, long-armed swipe.
But now I’m torn. While positive, tiger wife is still a stereotype, “a popular belief about specific social groups or types of individuals,” in this case Asian women of a certain age, and a tidy media invention banking on the popularity of Amy Chua’s tiger mother, and perhaps the Chinese phrase, lao hu, old tiger, said of ferocious older women. A stereotype with international appeal, and yet another one I’ll have to battle sooner or later. Keep reading »
As some of you may have read, my dude and I split last week due to religious differences. You’ll be glad to know that I am on the mend; actually I’m feeling pretty good. I caught up with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while, cleaned out every nook and cranny of my bedroom, and indulged in habanero margaritas. Everything was fine until a friend asked if she could set me up with someone. That was when the panic set in. Oh crap, I have to date again at some point? I had forgotten about that. Maybe I am just more prone to neurosis than the average gal, but I have a list of things I dread about the early stages of dating, my worst case scenarios checklist, if you will. After the jump, the most anxiety provoking things about the early stages of dating. Can’t we just skip over all this crap and get to the comfortable part?
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The other night I was hanging out with a girl friend gossiping about someone we know who has banged everyone else we know. “She’s such a slut,” my friend said, making a face. “Hey there!” I said. “That’s not like you. Usually you only call someone a ‘slut’ in a positive sense.” This girl friend and I are always tongue-in-cheek calling ourselves “sluts” because we love and enjoy sex and seek it out for pleasure the way that men do. “Why are you being pejorative about sluts all of a sudden?” I asked her. “I’m not being pejorative about all sluts,” she said. “I just think there’s different kinds of sluts. I f**k guys because I like f**king. She f**ks them despite not actually enjoying it.” I thought about it and realized she might be on to something. “Slut” may be the definition of a promiscuous women, but there’s all kinds of women who’ve had lots of sex partners. Here are five types of “sluts” you may not have considered.
“It’s not really a shock.” When a famous person dies from causes related to drug or alcohol addiction, this, or something similar, is one of the more common responses people have. While there are plenty of crueler things people can and do say, this bored and blase lack of surprise over the death of a human being tends to bother me the most.
That is because my father is an addict. He’s been an addict my entire life. And to not be shocked by someone’s death at the hands of addiction would mean I would have to have to reached some sort of placid acceptance that my dad will also inevitably suffer the same fate — that his getting “better” is out of the question. Keep reading »