Right now I’m going to be one of those slightly pathetic girls who reference an episode of “Sex and the City” to try and make a point, but then again who am I kidding, because I learned a lot from those four ladies. Thinking back to season three, when Charlotte was on the cusp of marrying Trey and found out she was getting locked into a shady prenuptial agreement has got me wondering about the subject. If I got married right now and my fiancé and I decided to have a prenuptial agreement, what the hell would he even be able to take from me? My favorite pillow? My DVR? My favorite necklaces? Oh wait I already lost those a week ago. Keep reading »
Last night, just hours after confirming her divorce, Madonna, who was performing to a sold out crowd in Boston, dedicated a song to Guy Ritchie. However, the track “Miles Away,” a little ditty based on their strained, career-based long distance relationship, wasn’t exactly a thank you for all the good times. Madonna set it up by saying, “This song is for the emotionally retarded. You may know a few people like that. God knows I do.” Ouch! Poor Guy, no one deserves to be dragged through the mud, and the media, by their ex.
I have to admit, despite my complete Madonna worship, I empathize with the dude. In relationships, I often have a hard time communicating my feelings even if I really care about the person. Ew, just writing “my feelings” makes me squirm. So, while that attitude will probably keep me a bachelorette and make Guy Ritchie rich from his divorce settlement (supposedly there’s no pre-nup!), maybe, just maybe, I can save you some time. Under the guise of “it takes one to know one”, here are Five Signs You’re Dating Someone Emotionally Stupid, after the jump…
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I have been dating a Pisces for four months and we haven’t had sex. He says he is going through a spiritual transformation, which includes no sex. I am climbing up the walls! I know he keeps a dream journal and in it he writes explicit dreams about ME. I do feel we connect and there’s a lot more to a relationship than sex, but it’s hard to sleep next to someone that has a hard on and is having mental sex with you. I care about him, but I have no idea when or if this phase will end. Help! – A Dried Up Libra
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If you were to follow every rule (and not just The Rules) that have been written about dating, you’d be too confused to actually ever go out on any dates. So-called sexperts and relationship gurus are constantly contradicting both themselves and each other— Should you call him? How long do you wait to engage in frisky relations? Is a “MOM” tattoo a valid dealbreaker? Ask a dozen experts, get a dozen different answers.
However, there are one or two rules that everyone seems to agree on. Generally acknowledged as common knowledge, these are things that pretty much all the experts agree that you should follow like the law. Except, they’re wrong. Keep reading »
Until a few years ago, I never would have considered a long distance relationship a realistic option for myself. I once dated a guy who lived on the other side of the city and that relationship was challenging enough, though to be fair, our problems probably had more to do with him being a douche bag than the 30-minute drive between our apartments, but still. Long distance relationships were what other people did — people who spent all their money on gas and plane tickets and their weeknights scouring the internet for travel deals and want ads in their significant other’s city. They weren’t for people like me, who’d rather spend money on shoes, and evenings cooking dinner with a boyfriend I could see as often as I wanted. Keep reading »
Reader Kristen Nyren snapped this photo inside Fort Washington in Maryland.
Have you seen graffiti that’s kind of sweet (even if it is against the law)? Send us a pic at firstname.lastname@example.org. Keep reading »
The people behind New Zealand website Flossie.com thought, “Why isn’t finding a man as easy as buying a can of Coke?” So, they decided to make it that simple by creating a vending machine that dispensed men in the buyer’s preferred type: classic, action, romantic, rich, foreign, and Mr. Perfect. (Mr. Perfect is a vibrator.) They installed the vending machine on a sidewalk, and as people passed by, they got a big, surprise when they pushed a button and a man bearing flowers walked out. In a little over 30 minutes, all of the men had been dispensed, and 200 vibrators had homes. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could push a button that read “Adventurous Music- And Book-Loving Slightly Bearded Cute Boy” and out one came? [Flossie.com via Notcot.org] Keep reading »
Sooner or later, everybody falls in love. When it’s good, it’s freaking amazing: birds sing, the sun shines, your Mom doesn’t annoy you so much and your checks are perpetually rosy, When it doesn’t work out, however, it burns like the fiery pits of hell. All that was good with the world has been obliterated – along with your self-esteem. And the way you’ll likely add insult to injury be inflicting even more torture upon yourself – well, that’s not so pretty either. Either you can’t eat or you’re eating pint after pint of Ben & Jerry’s, you’re sleeping all day or not sleeping at all or you’ve either abandoned all personal grooming habits or, in a particularly “screw-it” moment, went and got a majorly unflattering short haircut [Or a totally flattering one! -- Editor] or tattoo. As a post-dumpage Lloyd Dobler was labeled by his buddies outside the Gas ‘n Sip in “Say Anything”, you’re null and void. Keep reading »
I’ve been growing my hair out for 10 years, ever since I got a totally tragic close-crop days before graduation from high school. I had kind of low self-esteem and I was majorly obsessed with Gwyneth Paltrow’s new short cut (you know the one — it closely resembled then boyfriend Brad Pitt’s hair too) — I came to the conclusion that if I cut off all my hair just like hers, I, too, would be pretty. Fat chance. The haircut, for starters, was poorly executed. Additionally, my hair was still in that post-puberty stage of frizzy horribleness — and I did not yet understand that flat irons and blow dryers could be my friend. The haircut was a disaster and I have spent the last 10 years growing it out, associating prettiness and femininity with length.
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I can learn more about a man at dessert than any other time.
When it comes down to it, isn’t dessert the reason for a date? Witty conversation and sex appeal aside, it’s dessert that seals the deal. Lest I sound shallow, I can authenticate the efficacy of this dessert-litmus test. I can predict — with surprising accuracy — how long the relationship will last based on his dessert order. Keep reading »