Guys always complain about other guys who crash their party when it looks like a lady is headed for a dance in their pants, but we girls have plenty to boo-hoo about too. Just last weekend, I got blocked by my gay BFF. He helped me coordinate my outfit; then, he totally cramped my style. While he makes for a fun partner in crime, he looks like he’s my boyfriend when we’re out on the town. I love his company, but I never should have asked him to be my escort when I went to a bar to meet up with my crush. My wing woman was already booked with a date of her own, and my replacement totally backfired. While my gaydar is so precise I could probably sell my honing skills to the military, the object of my desires clearly didn’t realize I was rollin’ with a dude who was not interested in my tunnel of love. The mere presence of another guy killed my chances. If only I’d made my bestie wear a T-shirt that read: “DON’T WORRY: I’M GAY.” Now that I’ve learned my lesson, I hope this tale of woe will be a warning to all women: Don’t let a guy who won’t go downtown on you stop your flow of oncoming traffic.
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Why didn’t he call? What did I do wrong? Do you think he likes me? If I had a nickel for every time I asked my BFF these questions, I’d be rich. While I may pointlessly fritter away my imaginary nickels on high-heels, it turns out that I’ve definitely been wasting my energy and time, not just the money I’ve spent, on the wrong lovers. According to an article in The New York Times by Sarah Kershaw, “Girl Talk Has Its Limits,” constantly looking for a sympathetic ear may be sabotaging your relationships. While getting validation for your vagina troubles can be comforting, stewing in your confusion with your girly support group may do more harm than good. Apparently, psychologists have concluded that over-analyzing situations can be a recipe for cyclical negative thinking and even increase anxiety, especially in teen girls. Rather than formulating plans of action or simply living in the moment, chewing on every morsel of your relationship with your girlfriends cooks all the little bits into juicy gossip. While your bitches may give you the emotional band-aid you’re looking for, placing that much social significance on each twist and turn in a tawdry affair can suck the fun right out of all that sucking face. Not to mention, technology has made “co-rumination” as instantaneously easy as an email, phone call, or text message. Nowadays, you can chitchat mid-rendezvous like a sports announcer calling the shots at a match. Granted, love is a game we’re all playing, so clearly labeling relationship reflection as merely “girl talk” definitely has its sexist problems. After all, you know, men smack-talk it up, too! Alas, the researchers claim that when guys open up to each other, albeit less frequently, it actually helps their romance. So, somehow, our need to constantly communicate with our gal pals has created a glass ceiling for love. Ugh! Well, ceilings need vents, dammit. [Scarleteen] Keep reading »
Paris Hilton, 27, recently lamented to In Touch, “I never got to go to college.” Aw, poor Paris. Couldnâ€™t get student loans or Swarovski just couldn’t rhinestone all those books? But, like an heiress, sheâ€™s found a lucrative and public way to duplicate this rite of passage on a new reality show in which she’ll try to find a new BFF. Paris plans on making up for lost time by filling a mansion with girls so she can have the college experience. â€œThis will be my chance to be in a sorority,â€ she said eagerly. As anyone with a degree knows, â€œsororityâ€ is code for â€œgay until graduation.â€ Maybe she wasn’t just testing the lesbian waters with Elisha Cuthbert back in January. â€œIâ€™m really excited about this concept â€” Iâ€™m going to meet a lot of great girlfriends,â€ said Paris, who will capture all the panty raids on tape for MTV. [In Touch]
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Get your Kleenex ready girls, we’ve got a heartbreaker here. Oscar, a dog, and Arthur, a cat, were totally BFF’s — they were inseparable, even cuddling together every night as they slept. Then Arthur died at the ripe old age of 17. His best friend buried in the backyard, Oscar was inconsolable. So heartbroken was he, that one night he went into the backyard, pulled up Arthur’s remains from his little grave and carried the kitty to his bed and cleaned him up, laying down next to him as he had so many times before. Now that Arthur has been reburied, Oscar’s owners have taken steps to mend his wounded heart — getting him another kitten playmate named Limpet to keep him company. Sniff. Even though there was no way that Oscar and Arthur could ever reproduce, we’re pretty sure that this is the most romantic story we have ever heard. These two beasts were in love in that special way that only interspecies gay lovers can be and that we celebrate. [Metro.co.uk] Keep reading »