Let me preface this for you non-NYC people by saying that most of the taxi drivers I’ve come in contact with are not all that friendly. Especially when I tell them I live in an outer borough. Forget it. I’m blacklisted before my ass even hits the seat. What I wouldn’t give to catch a ride with Ahmed Ibrahim, a NYC cab driver who plays matchmaker for his single passengers. The “Cupid Cabbie” is responsible for 19 couples that have been together for over a year. Hey, I think that’s better than Patti Stanger. If you’re reading, Ahmed, I need a ride. [MSNBC] Keep reading »
It is always difficult to navigate your way through your first night with a total stranger. As long as you are pleasant and remember to wear your sexy, see-through nightie, everything should go just swimmingly. [1940s Throwback] Keep reading »
I should have known the relationship was doomed the moment he brought up his all-consuming hobby: race car driving.
I spent an entire summer in the sticks of Ohio and Pennsylvania, feeling like an idiot as my then-boyfriend Sam, his dad, and a friend worked on the car, which was black and blue with a giant wing on top. It looked like an alien bug on wheels. The first time I came to a race, his mom told me to dress casually, but my outfit (jeans, a striped T-shirt, red flats, and big sunglasses) might as well have been a ball gown compared to the giant silk-screened shirts everyone else was sporting. Sitting in a lawn chair in the driver’s pit, I folded the cover of The New York Times magazine to hide the abortion cover story — that wouldn’t have gone over well — and offered everyone soy nuts. From the stands, I watched cars flame out, crash into each other, and kick up dirt. I prayed for one of the cars to mow me over and texted all my friends, “One of these things is not like the other….” Keep reading »
A new study says that it could be your fault if he’s considering cheating on you. No, not because you’re not putting out enough or you nag too much. It’s because you scold him when he ogles other women. The study found that men who were interrupted while admiring attractive women reported to be more likely to cheat on their S.O. if given the chance. Why? It’s the “forbidden fruit” principle. He wants it more, because you tell him he can’t have it. I feel the same way about chocolate. I am very likely to cheat on my diet if I am scolded for my ogling of sweets. I have no self control. I am victim to my animal impulses and therefore not responsible for my actions. Thanks for understanding. [Men’s Health] Keep reading »
For the last few years, I’ve been a mentor to a former student of mine from my days as a junior high school teacher. Now that she is out of college, we have become friends, or more like older sister/ younger sister, or somewhere between parent and peer. I met her when she was 15. Now she’s 22. The other evening she was telling me about this guy she’s been dating on and off. In short, I do not approve of him. Listening to her talk, I remembered how when I was her age, I was in a very similar dating situation. I wanted to shake her and say, “Dump his ass now!” But that wouldn’t be right. If someone had said that to me, I would have laughed at them and then told them to f**k off. I wanted to spare her all of the pain, all of the mistakes I made myself. But I suppose I can’t. Sigh. Such is life. People learn in their own time. Instead, I offer my unsolicited advice about what I wish I knew about dating when I was 22 and hope that she reads it and figures it out for herself. Add your dating wisdom nuggets in the comments. Keep reading »
Wow, what a crazy past few months. I believe I cared for myself pretty well after my big breakup, which was now almost four months ago. I surrounded myself with my family, which was easy because I moved back in with my parents. I spent a lot of QT with my girl friends. I drank and shopped and watched crappy TV shows, as you do. When I felt ready to poke my head out of my hole and venture out on dates again, I splurged on a couple pairs of sexy heels. I kept myself busy buying furniture for my new apartment, being a good sister and friend, doing my taxes — anything I could think of.
Now I’m all moved into my new place. I go on dates with a new guy, casually, once or twice a week. After months of tiny tornadeos wrecking havoc on the blessed life I had six months ago, outward appearances look like the dust has finally settled.
Inside? That’s a different story. Keep reading »