My boyfriend and I moved in together last July. At the time, we had been dating for just shy of six months.
If a friend had planned to do what I did, and had asked me for advice, I would have told her that it was too soon. “What’s the rush?” I would have said. “Moving in together this early is frankly insane,” I would probably have added.
And I don’t disagree with my friend-self. I have never been a risk-taker; in fact, I’ve always been very averse to change. I had never even come close to living with a boyfriend, although I did have a few year-plus-long relationships. My less than adventurous personality is also what kept me in Boston, my hometown, for almost five years after graduating college. Why would I leave when my friends and family were there? I didn’t understand why people kept moving away from our safe cocoon. Keep reading »
In the lifecycle of dating, there’s a black hole smack dab in the middle of “I’m talking to someone” and “He’s my boyfriend,” that I like to call Exclusivity Limbo. I’ve been in that spot before and I’ve detailed my time there, what with the constant questioning, confusion and uncertainty of where things stand. But even though a relationship status may remain undefined, the physical and sexual cravings just continue to escalate. So, in a predicament that could be much worse, I find myself wondering one thing: to bang or not to bang? Keep reading »
In dating, it’s always important to smile, laugh, respect each other and feel a mutual connection, but until now, I can honestly say I’d forgotten what it feels like to be comfortable with someone, how to be my truest self from the get-go. At no fault of my own, I feel like that missing piece wasn’t something I had much control over. I truly believe it takes the right person to draw that authenticity out of you. Sometimes it just doesn’t happen. But when it does happen, that comfort can create a little blind spot where red flags go to hide. I, more now than ever, am on the lookout for them. Keep reading »
When we met at college, little did we know that between the two of us, we would spend the next few years living in five different countries (U.S., France, China, Australia and England) on four different continents . Naturally, when we made our initial moves, our heads were full of images of exotic foreign men and exciting adventures. But, as with many things about living abroad, dating abroad turned out to hold some surprises in store for us. During that time, we dated some weird people, made some questionable choices, and occasionally fell flat on our faces while trying to flirt in a second language.
Now that we’re both living in London, we’ve come to view these dates fondly (though it took longer for some than others) and started cataloging the good, the bad, and the extremely strange men that we dated. These are the strangest eight things that happened to us while dating abroad: Keep reading »
First, a story. A few years ago, I dated a guy I’ll call Jeff. We only saw each other romantically for a grand total of two months, but it was significant because Jeff was the first guy I had dated since the breakup of my engagement where it felt like I finally had let go of a lot of the baggage that comes with that kind of life-altering, trust-shattering heartbreak. I had dated a bit since that breakup, and even had a rocky six-month relationship at one point, but I was still so messed up. At first, dating Jeff felt like a breath of fresh air. I felt much more together emotionally, and he was courting me like an adult, planning actual dates and seemingly not playing any games. On paper, he seemed to have it together — a good job, aspirations, a positive outlook on the world and what he wanted to contribute to it. Physically, the relationship progressed at a much slower rate than I was used to — we only kissed for the first month — and I took my cues from him, convinced that this was a reflection of him taking me “seriously.” Keep reading »
I met Michael six months after I left my previous relationship and was, I think, understandably not eager to get into anything super-committed. It turned out I had good reason to be wary: I was still trying to figure out my sense of what “myself” or “Rebecca” was as an individual after being in a relationship that required me to defer to being one-half of a couple, not one whole person in a partnership with another whole person. The baggage weighed on me and made me scared of what the relationship would ask of me. Michael and I broke up twice. Keep reading »