A few years ago, I had to swear off dating musicians. I’d been dating them since high school, both casual guitar-noodlers and career musicians who had songs on CW shows and their faces on T-shirts. Again and again I’d fall for the sensitive guitar player who wears eyeliner … and again and again the same patterns would repeat themselves that led to us breaking up. I have nothing but the nicest things to say about most of them as people. Don’t take my swearing-off musicians as a warning, per se. On the contrary, my loss is your gain — the more for you! Just make sure you know these 12 details first. Keep reading »
I have something I need to get off my chest. I’m experiencing pangs of guilt about writing about dating when I’m no longer doing it. I wake up some mornings and feel like I’m the Benedict Arnold of the single population. During my time at The Frisky, I have gone through pockets of non-singleness, but for the most part I have been single and proud to be so, with moments of not-proud-to be so. I’ve written about the ups and downs of that, but mostly, I accepted and embraced singlehood. I cultivated an identity around it.
As much as I griped about having to sleep on the pull-out couch every Christmas (that did genuinely suck), as much as I blamed myself for being single, as much as I kicked and screamed my way through online dating, as many times as I gave up and went on dating hiatuses, the truth is that I liked being single. I liked being free to hang out with friends, or go to hot yoga, or wake up as early as I felt like on a Sunday morning (I never sleep past 8 a.m). I liked reading my books on the subway and always being in charge of what to watch on Netflix live streaming. Season 3 of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” at 7 a.m. on Saturday? WERK! I liked making unilateral decisions about everything in my life because, seriously, it’s the height of personal freedom. It’s something that everyone should experience. It’s a state of being to be savored for as long as it lasts. Keep reading »
I’m an avid backpacker/compulsive traveler. I’m an overly optimistic dreamer who has quite seriously hypothesized that (a) mermaids exist, and (b) if you run fast enough and cry hard enough, Bradley Cooper just might chase you around a street corner and scream “I love you.” I tend to believe that smiley face emoticons in emails are one step away from a marriage proposal. For the most part, my world view serves me well, except perhaps, when it comes to travel romances. From my personal experiences, I would like to share with you some helpful DONT’s and DO’s of flinging while abroad. Keep reading »
The Frisky HQ is under construction for the next couple of days so I was planning on working from home. Then yesterday, my internet crapped out and I found myself running to the local coffee shop in my pajamas. Six hours later, I was still sitting in my pajamas. It was an interesting day. There was a blind date that I eavesdropped on for a while. I thought that would be the subject of this week’s Dating Don’ts. Then the Boston Marathon bombing happened and the mood turned dark. I sat in silence for a while, watching CNN. My roommate was next to me, because she had the day off of work to study for a grad school exam. She eventually interrupted the silence to confess that she’s been watching that new show “Ready For Love.” Someone needed to cut the tension.
I laughed. But she was like, “Don’t laugh! They had this whole bit about how you should never say the word ‘fart’ on a date. It was interesting.” Then we got into an in-depth discussion about bodily functions and dating. Because these are the things that people sometimes talk about when terrible things happen in the world. Keep reading »
I keep blinking my eyes. Splashing cold water on my face. Waiting to wake up from the cinematic dream sequence which has been my life for the last three weeks. It all started when I ran into an old friend from college on the subway and the next thing I knew, my love life went from black and white to technicolor in a poof, like when Dorothy landed over the rainbow. So. Yeah. Hi! Greetings from over the rainbow. Colors are brighter here. Food tastes better. Dogs and babies and munchkins all have secret messages just for you. Time is measured in hand holds and kisses and the breeze decides which direction you walk.
I’m trying desperately to make sense of it all. But I fear I have become one of those people: the love-crazed fool who you want to punch in her stupid, shmoopy face. Even in my state of euphoria, I recognize that my type can be terribly annoying. Should you ever find yourself over the rainbow, A) Enjoy it! and B) Try to keep it together so the rest of the world doesn’t want to murder you. Here are some thoughts about how to do that… Keep reading »
One day, you’ll be leaving work, your limbs heavy with dating fatigue. You’ll trudge to the subway with a sourness in your soul. I’m done with dating, you’ll whisper into to the dank subway air. That’s it. I will live underground in the subway tunnels like those mole people and never have to sit through another awkward round of drinks again. You’ll be so wrapped up in your self-pitying reverie that you’ll miss the train. You’ll, swear, gnaw on your cheek, hating yourself for thinking like this and wait for the next one.
Moments later, you’ll notice a man on the platform standing next to you and feel drawn to him like a super-duty magnet. He’ll pull you with great gravitational force onto the same subway car as him and you’ll sit across from him. He’ll pull out the NY Post. And you’ll think No one reads the paper anymore. But this guy does. He’s the last paper reader alive.
You’ll study his face, this paper reading unicorn, taking it in, trying to make sense of it. He has kind eyes. His mouth is fixed in a perma-smirk. When his smirk spreads to a smile, you’ll realize you recognize that smile. You know him!? This realization will untether you. This is someone you know?! But how? From where? Keep reading »