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 »
As if dating wasn’t hard enough – you throw in a portable, typed-word machine and suddenly it’s pandemonium. Tones, intentions, invitations all get jumbled in this lawless land of shorthand communication. Suddenly the guy you’re dating’s “C u later” message means he’s dumping you when he really just wanted to let you know he’d see you at 8p.m. for Chinese food.
Oh texting, how you make things much, much more complicated than they have any right to be. I can’t tell you the hours my friends and I have spent reciting, decrypting, bemoaning, and conjuring up an honors thesis on a five-word text message.
Personally, I don’t like to be too harsh a judge on a guy’s texting style if I don’t really him. Everyone has their faults, after all. But there are some serious warning signs in the form of text messages. Below, the types of texters who warrant anything from healthy skepticism to restraining orders: Keep reading »
Navigating the courtship process with someone famous is nothing like the movie “Win A Date With Tad Hamilton.” Josh Duhamel and Kate Bosworth made it look easy and adorable. It’s not. It’s confusing and weird. I know because I’m dating a celebrity.
We’ll call him Clarence because nobody is really called Clarence. Here’s the long and short of how we met: over the last nine years since he broke onto the scene as an actor, I had seen most of his movies. He was talented, and cute from the right angle, but tends to be typecast as the “sweet sidekick” or “nerdy friend,” so Hollywood had conditioned me to not to swoon over him. In interviews, however, he always spoke with a quick, sensitive and intelligent wit that kind of blew me away. So, when I ran into him in a bar and we somehow wound up in a conversation, it’s safe to say I was intimidated. But the conversation was amazing. However, famous guys talk to every girl, in every bar, every night, so I thought nothing of it. Keep reading »
It just creeps right up every year. It’s Valentine’s Day and then you sneeze and out comes WEDDING SEASON. I’m attending four (possibly five) this year. That’s a lot of hotel room minibars to resist, a lot of champy to consume without getting too tipsy, a lot of my signature Elaine Benes style dance moves to bust out. I don’t even care if I look like a spaz. Just let me dance!
This wedding season, for the first time in forever, I have a date that I can drag with me to all the nuptials. After one wedding together, I’ve learned a few things about my guy’s wedding style: he doesn’t usually like to dance, but when he does, he’s got a mean groove on the downbeat, he’s only mildly embarrassed by my dance moves and he seems to be immune to hangovers. So far, he’s killing it as a plus one. And I’m grateful for that. Because after years of wedding date weirdness, I’ve learned that the wrong escort can ruin the whole damn affair. You deserve to have your wedding season to suck as little as possible. So, if you’ve been lucky enough to be asked to attend a wedding as a plus one (weddings are expensive these days and it’s an honor that should be taken very seriously!), here are some guidelines for how to behave so that your date doesn’t want to dive face first into a tray of oyster shooters.
Wedding season is kind of the best. I gladly welcome any excuse to put on a fancy dress, throw on some lipstick and toast the merry union of two souls, united in common interests, rooted in love. Weddings exist on a plane where everything is heightened, cast in a rosy glow fueled by champagne and cake and the joy of others. Every song is your song, in every conversation you are charming and witty, and, after a while, everyone — and I mean everyone — looks like a prime candidate for a clandestine makeout sesh over in the corner by the photo booth. Before you slink over to the target in your crosshairs, check yourself. Let us help you. Follow this guide, and you should be golden. Keep reading »
A few months ago, my love life went through a dry spell. It wasn’t that messages weren’t coming in on Match.com or that guys wouldn’t chat me up when I hit happy hour after work. I just wasn’t connecting with anyone. I felt really blah about the men who I went on dates with (usually only one date with) and I started to doubt my “picker.” Maybe I’m bad at this, I thought to myself.
Right around that time, my friend started dating a new guy. This new guy had a roommate. In the swell of her new romance, the roommate probably did seem pretty great. She said he was a cute, funny, smart professional musician from the same religious background who is also a vegetarian. She offered — no, she insisted — she set us up. I’m an open-minded gal, so I thought I’d give it a shot. She knows me pretty well, I thought.
I don’t think I even need to tell you how awkward the date turned out to be. Keep reading »
Spring is in the air – and in your nose. You sneeze, ooze, and actively resist the urge to claw your itching eyes out. That is, if you’re allergic like me. I cope with an assortment of antihistamines and avoidance tactics: yes, I’m totally fine NOT going outside today, or for the next three weeks! My brother jokes that he should build a portable bubble for me to live in during pollen season, and some days I really would prefer to hibernate in a hypoallergenic biosphere for the entire spring and summer. It’s just that I’m single. So I can’t. There are dates to be had.
Living with allergies, I’ve learned to avoid any of the following: cats (or people in coats covered with cat hair); shrimp, oysters, and any other annoying member of the shellfish family; fresh strawberries and apples. Damn farmer’s market! Having allergies is simply part of who I am – who needs to go apple picking anyway? But to a non-allergic person, like that Jon Hamm lookalike who asked me out, I fear coming off like a human science experiment. For highly allergic people everywhere, here are some tips for navigating your spring/summer dates: Keep reading »
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 »