Six years ago, I couldn’t get a real date to save my life. I blamed nearly all of that on my size and used weight as a shield to deflect getting rejected. When you’re overweight you come up with all kinds of reason why dating sucks, like “guys are such jerks! They won’t even LOOK at you if you’re not a size 2!” or my favorite“Whatever, I just want a guy to value ME for ME — not how I look.”
But let’s be real here — if you’re overweight and single, it can feel like there’s no hope in the world for finding a person that madly, truly, deeply loves YOU. Yes, even ALL of you.
Dating while being overweight isn’t a death-sentence to single-dom at all, so here are 5 rules for curvy women who want pure dating mastery! And for added intrigued I’ve personally used all these rules in my dating life, which lead to one helluva man to put a ring on it. Read more on Your Tango…
Yesterday, I teared up over a iPhone photo of my high school best friend looking stunning in a potential wedding gown. It was captioned, “This could be the one!” My watery response startled me just as much as seeing a childhood friend looking bridal.
Two days ago, I felt a genuine jolt of elation upon seeing a different, dear friend’s engagement ring. I stammered to my mom on the phone, “I’ve known her since I was four and now she’s getting married!”
If I’d been confronted with wedding artifacts even six months ago, I would have eeked out my best ecstatic voice and plastered on a fake smile. Meanwhile my insides would have balked and squirmed. The feeling of being trapped in domesticity would have spread like a rash.
Now the only unpleasant feeling that emerges after getting engagement party invitations and the word “fiancé” is the lingering aftertaste of my anxiety. In the love arena, I’m far behind two girls I grew up with. Keep reading »
It’s our first date and I literally don’t care about your college major, or how long you’ve been in the city. I don’t care if you only drink aged whiskey or how lame you thought new Superman movie was. Please stop talking about your favorite hockey team and how it’s such a small world because we both know so-and-so. Please, please, please stop rambling about any information I’ve already stalked on your Facebook and Linkedin pages. Can’t we just skip all the bullshit small talk and have a real conversation. There’s some stuff I’m dying to know about you, but I’m not Nell. I wasn’t raised in an isolated cabin, so I know better. But here’s what questions you could answer that would make this happy hour a lot more valuable (for me, at least): Keep reading »
In my eight year stint as a single person, I became very proficient at dating and breaking up. I learned how to flirt, I became skilled at meeting men both on and offline, I developed coping mechanisms for making it through horrendous first dates, I came to understand how not to take rejection personally, I honed in on what I was looking for rather than who was looking for me and I came up with a protocol for moving on with as little emotional scarring as possible when things didn’t work out. (And I typically didn’t expect them too.) These were all incredibly difficult and, at times, painful skills to master, but I think I just about had them under control. And then a bout of dating fatigue and a stroke of dumb luck later and the thing that I thought would never happen for me happened — I was in a serious relationship faster then I could say DATING SUCKS. After the first few moments of being annoyingly in love (I still am), I found myself with my back up against an OH FUCK wall. Keep reading »
I’ve recently come to terms with something: I don’t like sports. This should have been obvious to me a long time ago — like, we’re talking in kindergarten when I quit my soccer team because I was never the goalie (or as I saw it, the person who just got to stand there and do nothing). The cool girls in elementary school were the girls who had friends that were boys. How did they get those super-masculine friends? By playing sports – or at least, by watching them from the sidelines. Me? I was too busy staging my own production of “Little Shop of Horrors” to notice, until everyone quit my show to play sports, that is. Because apparently, sports are fun! But they weren’t for me. I could name so many things that were more fun than having a ball thrown at your face. Like eating, for instance.
At a very young age, I learned that if I wanted to meet boys, or more specifically, if I wanted boys to like me, I had to like sports.Volleyball girls were totally rad, with their bumping and serving or whatever other sporty moves they did, cheerleaders knew all about football and got to wear those stylish skirts, and die-hard baseball fans always had home runs when it came to starting conversations with guys. I could run, but didn’t join the track team because it interfered with drama club. Keep reading »
Breakups are brutal, and we rarely end a relationship with all of our feelings, regrets and issues off our chest. Instead, we’re left with a tornado of confusing emotions accumulating debris inside of us, potentially setting off some really bad decision-making. The post-breakup email would be at the top of that list. It’s totally understandable to want to send one last email — either for closure or answers or to explain yourself, but more often, as a medium for your residual hurt and anger. While all of those reasons seem really valid, you have to let go of the idea that sending the email will make you feel better. It most certainly won’t. DO NOT SEND A POST-BREAKUP EMAIL. Let me repeat that. DO NOT HIT SEND.
The only person who really gets hurt by sending out that post-breakup email is you. Unless your ex is a straight up sociopath, he already feels bad about breaking your heart, but sending a bitchy/snarky/sympathy-seeking/guilt-tripping/nailing-ass-to-wall email just lets him off the hook.You might think having the last word will make him feel worse, but in fact, they will actually make him feel better. Any negative feelings he had about you — you just validated them when you hit send. Keep reading »