It was insanely beautiful. A round diamond in the middle, surrounded by a ring of tiny diamonds, set in platinum. It was custom-designed, but looked vintage. I had never thought much about diamonds — in fact, all of my jewelry, save the pair of diamond studs he had gifted me a couple years before, was from Forever 21 — but it was as if my boyfriend of four years knew exactly what kind of ring I would want when he proposed. I must have said, “Oh my god” 100 times. I wore the ring with love and pride up until we broke up nine-and-a-half months later. Keep reading »
I had a picture in my mind of how my next dating experience was going to go. I’d meet a nice guy, maybe at a friend’s house party or while we both tried to flag down the bartender at one of those speakeasy-esque bars that serves cocktails with perfectly square ice cubes. We’d exchange some witty words, some knowing smiles, and clink our glasses as we got a second round. He’d ask for my number and would call a few days later. Our first date would be during the day—maybe to a museum—followed by a dinner date the next week, if things went well. I had in my mind that, next time I got on the dating mechanical bull, I was going to take things slow and steady so I didn’t get bucked off too soon.
But then I met The Young One. Keep reading »
When you haven’t been in love for way too long, it’s hard to remember what it feels like or if it even exists at all. As another Valentine’s Day approaches, my knee-jerk reaction is cynicism. But it seems so cliche to be that person. I am desperate for proof that I should keep on believing in LOVE. I’ve collected some epic stories that are sure to keep my single, weary heart a-beating. Check out the story of Emilie and Alan after the jump. Keep reading »
As we discussed a couple of weeks ago, toilet paper is amongst the top 10 argument triggers for couples. It sounds petty, but a roll of toilet paper facing the wrong direction is a personal call to arms for me. I did a little research and as it turns out, I am not just a neurotic psycho. There is a preferred way to put toilet paper on the roll … MY WAY! Sixty to 70 percent of American consumers surveyed prefer their roll “over.” People who like their roll “under” were found to have a scientific correlation with ownership of a recreational vehicle or a cat. Very random, but it makes perfect sense. I would never be caught dead owning one of the aforementioned. And I would certainly never be caught orienting my toilet paper “under.” How about you? Are you an “over” or an “under”? [Wikipedia] Keep reading »
One of the things I’ve been thinking about during this drinking/dating/sex sabbatical of mine is how you know you actually like someone. I’ve come to realize that in addition to being an extreme emotions junkie, I’m what Dr. Drew might call a “love-a-holic.” A motivating factor in my desire to sleep with someone is for that amazing but temporary feeling of love and desire and wholeness that washes over me when I’m in bed with them. I lovvvvve the feeling of being in love, feeling love, having a crush, etc. Looking back, I’ve felt love for people that I barely know, let alone know well enough to deduce if I actually like them. So, in the last 20 days of being sober and date/sex-free, I’ve felt the feelings of liking someone hit me and instead of obsessing over them and rolling around in that feeling of like, I’ve tried to think about why I have that feeling. Keep reading »
My freshman year of college, I went on a date with a guy to a fancy restaurant in Manhattan. It was the kind of place with a white tablecloth, where a busboy scraped the crumbs off the table with a comb once your plates were removed and the maitre’d pulled out women’s chairs for them. That’s where I made my big statement: the maitre’d pulled out a chair for me and I walked around to the other chair, pulled it out for myself and sat down. I wasn’t just being rude; I thought I was making a point about how I — and by extension all women — didn’t need to be treated with chivalry. Keep reading »