I sat at the airport, waiting to board Virgin Airlines flight 451 traveling non-stop to my sunny destination … to a friend’s wedding. I exhaled. It had been too long since I had been on a real vacation. All my vacation days seem to be designated to other people’s weddings. In the terminal, I replayed the fantasy I’ve always had that one lucky time in my life I would end up seated next to a hot man on a plane, all the planets would align, and we would join the illustrious Mile-High Club. Maybe I could even take him as my wedding date. Keep reading »
It’s time again for “Dear Wendy Updates,” a feature where people I’ve given advice to in the past let us know whether they followed the advice and how they’re doing today. After the jump, we hear from “Twenty-Something Virgin,” the young woman who worried she blew her one chance to get laid when she turned down a friend’s suggestion that they have sex. I suggested she at least give a relationship with the guy a shot — if that was possibly of interest to them both — and see where things went from there. So, is she seeing the guy? Is she still a virgin? Find out all after the jump. Keep reading »
In college a group of four of my friends made a pact: In the year 2012, if we are all still single, we will forget about trying to find a mate, marry each other, move in together, and build a life. A life that would undoubtedly be filled with lots of love, laughter, and multiple screenings of the movie “School Ties.” At the time, 2012 seemed like eons away, and this pact seemed hilarious, even implausible. Only now 2012 is fast approaching. One of the members of the group is married (to one person), the other two have come out of the closet as homosexuals, and I am still single and looking. It’s not what I would have predicted back in college. But I’ve abandoned all thoughts of a backup plan. Keep reading »
When I was 18 years old, I wanted to get my then-boyfriend’s initials tattooed across my hand. I needed the world to know that we were madly in love (which, of course, we weren’t) and this was going to be the man (which, of course, he wasn’t) that I’d spend the rest of my life with (which, thank God, I didn’t).
Instead, I chose to get a tasteful fire-breathing dragon inked on my lower back. Keep reading »