“These are the things I’m addicted to: bronzer, boys, and alcohol.”
That’s a quote from Snooki of “Jersey Shore” fame, but it could just as easily be something I said. Last night’s episode actually, gulp, struck a cord with me. In Snooki, I saw myself. A shorter, drunker, less well-read version of myself, but still. Snooki, like me, is searching for love and sometimes drinks to excess to mask the insecurities she has about not finding it. Keep reading »
Look, college kids don’t want your sex or your junk food — they just want some love. A new paper from researchers at Ohio State University found that college students prefer an ego boost to sex. Sex? Really? When given the choice between a self-esteem boosting activity (like getting a compliment) or “receiving a paycheck, seeing a best friend and drinking alcohol, in addition to eating a favorite food, [and] engaging in a favorite sexual activity,” most chose self-esteem. Part of why self-esteem may be so desired: drugs, alcohol and sex are readily available on college campuses, but self-esteem is one of those intangibles that is a bit harder for kids to grasp.
It’s interesting research, especially given how today’s college generation is touted as being more self-absorbed than previous generations. What do you think? Would you pick a compliment over sex? [NY Times] Keep reading »
After much thought and Advil, I have decided I am going on a sex/dating and drinking sabbatical. I went on a six-month sex sabbatical after my breakup from my fiance a few years ago — or, rather, I announced I was going on a six-month sex sabbatical and then it lasted for, I think, around two. It wasn’t a complete failure, in other words. Hilariously, I went on a sex sabbatical because all of my efforts to get laid were being thwarted and I figured I might as well decide to NOT have sex with a purpose.
Meanwhile, I have never taken a significant break from drinking. I didn’t start drinking until I was in college — I believe most people start in high school, so I was a late bloomer in more ways than one — and I remember the night I got drunk the first time as well as you can possibly remember a hazy night 13 years ago. The amount and frequency of my drinking has gone up and down over the years, but I generally consider myself to be a responsible boozer. I don’t drink and drive (easy when you don’t have a car!), I don’t say things I don’t mean, and, for the most part, I don’t do things I actually regret. 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 “Low Confidence” who had just started online dating after getting her weight under control. With very minimal dating experience at all, she got a little freaked out when her first potential online match flaked and disappeared after she asked him out. “I was really starting to like the guy, as much as you can like someone you’ve never met, so it’s a bit disappointing that when I finally thought I might get to meet a nice guy, it doesn’t seem to have worked out. I decided to get back on the horse and have begun communication with two other guys, but I’m worried the same thing will happen again.” After the jump, find out if she indeed got back on the horse and how things are going for her today. Keep reading »
In my early 20s, I wore size 24 jeans and my enormous boobs demanded an H-cup bra, a letter no woman should have to associate with lingerie sizing. I couldn’t fit into restaurant booths or through the subway turnstile. I even once held up an entire roller coaster ride at Six Flags so I could get back onto the platform when the seat belt wouldn’t buckle around me — a character-building experience to say the least. I’d dropped out of college, didn’t have any job prospects and I was in a serious romantic relationship with a man who was actually gay (and a little nuts). It was a dark, lonely time in my life mired in lots of bong-hitting and double-cheeseburgering.
After surprising myself by punching said gay boyfriend in the mouth one night during a screaming match (to which he responded by pulling my hair for 20 minutes – so gay!), I met my own ugly rock bottom. What came next was a brief stint as a homeless, fat girl living out of her Honda. There was, as they say, nowhere else to go but up. Keep reading »