Say you meet a handsome stranger one night in the corner of a dark bar. He’s visiting from somewhere else, but something clicks and all of a sudden it’s on. After a whirlwind week where you manage to cram in a months’ worth of getting to know you, he leaves, back to his life and you to yours. The inevitable ennui sets in, but before you chalk this up to another fling with no staying power, do yourself a favor: Consider the adult long-distance relationship. Keep reading »
My girlfriend and I moved in together six months ago, and as to be expected, it’s taken some time to get used to each other’s idiosyncrasies – doing the laundry, putting away dishes, and so on. For instance, Melissa sorts our clean towels according to size. I, on the other hand, prefer to separate by use, because… eww, gross. The gym towels should never touch the bath towels! Even if they’re clean, that’s disgusting! Right?
Still, I pride myself on the fact that I don’t get annoyed with her over petty things. When she does something that’s the complete opposite of what I’d do, I remind myself that it’s not a big deal. And if it is a big deal, we work something out. We always work something out.
But that wasn’t always how I operated. Keep reading »
Let me set the scene for you. One day you’re at the grocery store, dutifully squeezing all the avocados until you find the ripest ones, then moving them to your basket. You have your headphones in, you’re concentrating very intently on the task at hand, and you’re really not thinking about anything other than the guacamole you’re going to consume while watching “True Detective.” As you continue your thorough work of squeezing and replacing the avocados, your hand touches something warm, something tangible, something human — the calloused, strong hand of your dream man, a tall man-bun sporting, flannel wearing carpenter, a Ryan Gosling in “The Notebook” meets Jared Leto’s hair with a dash of McConaughey’s Foghorn Leghorn swagger. [Dream man. -- Amelia] You drop his hand, you gasp, he smiles. Numbers are exchanged. Drinks are had. You share this improbably cute story with everyone you meet, and are greeted with a variety of emotions ranging from derision to laughter to misty-eyed joy. You marry under a canopy of Etsy-sourced mason jar tea light holders and gingham and drive off in an old convertible, the “Just Married” sign bouncing against the bumper. That’s your life under the spell of the meet-cute. Keep reading »
This week on Date-Ade, the advice series for all your existential dating dilemmas, I discuss how to get over a stubborn crush on a not-so-good-for-you co-worker
If you have a sex, dating or relationship quandary that you’d like for me to try to unravel (no promises), send your questions to firstname.lastname@example.org or tweet @TheFrisky#DateAde.
Breakups suck, whether you’re the dumper or the dumpee. No matter which end of the fray you’re on, there follows a mourning period, a delicate time in which you probably lash out at friends, obsess over details of the way things ended, and make ill-advised decisions about ice cream for dinner and browsing on Tinder. It’s impossible to make generalizations about how long a breakup takes to process, because every single relationship and situation is its own special snowflake. I can’t tell you what it feels like to be a part of your breakup, because only you were there to experience it. The adage about using an equation involving the amount of time you were together as the “x” factor for how long you should be upset after it ends is stupid, plain and simple. That being said, here are some rough guidelines on acceptable mourning times, from someone who has been through her fair share of breakups. But feel free to ignore them if you feel like wallowing for an extra month or six. Keep reading »
Whether you’re hitting the bars or going the online dating route, meeting the right guy and building a relationship can be a very, very difficult task. Sure, it should be easy when you’re in college and there are thousands of guys milling around. But it’s not. Why? Because some guys (most guys?!) are just undateable. Read more on College Candy…