Life is full of surprises: maybe you get pregnant without trying, win the lottery, find faith or cheat death. Other times, it’s the small, simple unexpectancies (I’m aware that “unexpectancies” isn’t a real word, but it should be) that make all the difference. Over the last few weeks, Baby Face has been my pleasant “unexpectancy.”
Having reconnected after five (or is it six?) years without a trace of contact, Baby Face and I have been spending a lot of time catching up, becoming reacquainted and starting back at square one. A lot has changed since our reckless beer-funneling college days, and not just because we’ve graduated to fancy craft beer and real glassware. Back in the day, Baby Face and I were friends, but we were never confess-your-deepest-secrets, share-your-embarrassing-stories kinds of friends. Last week, I was able to see Baby Face twice—once for lunch in the city and once for dinner and drinks at my place, where we were able to really talk and get to know each other, sweatpants on, makeup off and all. Keep reading »
Excuse me while I wander around the lovely landscape of cloud nine, because I had the best sex of my life this weekend and I’m still up here enjoying the high.
So, let’s bring it back a week. After my grandma passed away, my communications with Baby Face became more and more frequent. Before our date/catchup/death dinner we’d text each other a few times a day to flirt and shoot the shit, but since then things have certainly accelerated. We chat in the morning on our commutes in to work, briefly throughout the day via text, and almost always in the evening before bed (sometimes there’s even an actual phone call, which I love). Mid-last week, Baby Face asked me if I wanted to go out with him and a couple of our old college friends on Friday night after work, but I’d already made plans with some of my girlfriends. We decided to compromise and hang out with our respective pals individually, and then meet up later in the night, with or without the others. Keep reading »
Unfortunately, I’m becoming a professional at going on great dates that have awful endings. There was my first date with Scar Twin, which went off without a hitch until I fell down a flight of stairs; my first (and last) date with Jack, who wrapped up our evening by insinuating that I’m a slut; and most recently, my great — and also tragic — date with my old college friend Baby Face. Confirmed: Tears do not taste good in dirty martinis. Keep reading »
This week has been an absolute shitstorm. It was one of those “when it rains, it pours” weeks that makes you want to crawl under your covers and not come out until life is back to normal. My grandmother is still dying, withering away and scared to close her eyes, while my heartbroken grandpa watches on with the slightest bit of hope that she’ll pull through. She won’t. On top of that, I’ve been going through other family drama, a job shakeup and heath concerns to remind me of life’s oh-so impeccable timing. All in a week’s work, right? During this time of complete instability and emotional exhaustion, dating has been the last thing on my mind. Keep reading »
I’ve had a high sex drive since I was a teenager. Over the last 14 years, whether single or coupled up, I’ve been fortunate enough to never really go ‘sexless.’ In relationships— whether they last three months or three years— my libido generally maintains the momentum of that of the Energizer Bunny. I certainly don’t have a sex addiction, but it’s safe to say I am, and always have been, a pleasure enthusiast. So, when I’m single, that desire remains the same, but I tend to get my O’s from the sex toys that reside in a toolbox under my bed, as opposed to an actual human being. I think it might be time to change that. Keep reading »
I answered the phone at 10:45 p.m., worried about why my father was calling so late. It was highly unusual for a man who never calls after 8 o’clock, especially since he finally chucked his old cell phone which frequently allowed him to “butt dial” everyone on his recent calls list.
“Hi. What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.
“I planned on going to brunch with some girlfriends, but that’s it. Why? Is everything okay?” Silence from the other end of the receiver confirmed my concern.
“It’s Grandmom,” he said. “I think you should come home.” Keep reading »