This morning on my way into work, I hopped on Facebook to see what was happening in the world— and instantly, I regretted it.
The first thing I saw on my newsfeed was an album from a college friend’s bachelorette party. That’s nice, I thought, as I looked at the pictures of her all drunk and smiley. And then I remembered how she cheated (a couple of times) on her soon-to-be husband when we were seniors. She covered her tracks and her boyfriend never found out. Having been played by Patrick Bateman, my own feelings of anger began to surface as I scrolled through photo after photo of her in her pink veil. She was finally getting her happy ending, but in my eyes, her relationship was a sham. I continued to scroll down the page, in search of something that didn’t annoy me.
Surprise! An engagement. A high school girlfriend of mine was proposed to over the weekend in a pumpkin patch. How fall of her fiancé. Letters forming the question “Will you marry me?” were carved into lit-up pumpkins. I have to admit, it was very cute. She inset a photo of her engagement ring over a snapshot of the pumpkins to announce the news. I always found her to be a bit high-strung, but hey. She found someone who loves her enough to carve 15 jack o’ lanterns, so this means there’s still hope for me. I kept moving through my newsfeed. Keep reading »
For nearly two weeks, I’ve had a Dude living in my small studio apartment. It’s a short-term-ish houseguest situation that will likely last another month or so, which means the Dude (sorry, no details on who he is, but feel free to assume it’s Ryan Gosling for visual purposes) has been given the freedom to make himself at home more so than your average weekend visitor, but less so than a full on roommate. I haven’t lived with anyone, let alone a man, since my ex and I broke up five years ago, so I’m used to having my place just so. I was genuinely amused by how quickly — like, within a few hours of him temporarily moving in — I started to notice little signs that my feng shui-ed girly sanctuary was being soaked in testosterone. So I decide to document the changes as a sort of anthropological study. Here are 10 signs that a dude is starting to take over your apartment, presented in photographs taken around my abode…
Halloween week is the perfect time to reflect on the things that you find deeply, completely terrifying. For me, this includes mayonnaise that’s been left out in the open air for too long, the thought of riding Pirates of the Caribbean alone at night, the TLC special “Born Without A Face” and handful of awful dates I went on during my eight year stint as a single person. We’ve all had dates that have traumatized us to the core, sure, but some are so horrendous that years later you will lay in bed at,night shaking and sweating at the memory of the Trader Joe’s bag boy who looked quite different when he wasn’t surrounded by organic produce. Below, eight dates that still make me want to hide under my bed. Keep reading »
I was an hour into my first date with Hot Doctor when he moved in for the kill. Lucky for him, I was so totally taken off guard by his kiss that I didn’t have the wherewithal to swat him away. Less than 10 seconds later, he went for my boob, and then it was Game Over.
“I thought I made it perfectly clear to you that I wasn’t looking to hook up,” I said, pushing Hot Doctor away.
“Well, you did, but that all goes out the window if you like someone right?” he responded, clearly confused.
What made him think that I liked him?
He looked nothing like the photos from his OKCupid profile — he had darker, thinner hair, was a few inches shorter and looked at least five years older. We agreed to meet up for drinks once he finished his nightly review class for his medical boards, but after a delayed dismissal and a few wrong turns, it was 10:45 p.m. before he made it to my neighborhood. At that point, knowing that my roommate was home and within earshot of the living room, I opted to just invite him in for a drink. It was already late on a work night, and if I’d had it my way, I would have already been counting shirtless Channing Tatums in my dreams for at least 30 minutes by then. Unfortunately, the doctor had arrived for his house call. Keep reading »
As I stood in the small studio on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, attempting a sexy pout for the camera, I felt my fears and inhibitions melting away. Posing for boudoir photos was the most fun I’d had in months. The real me, who I’d been stifling for reasons I hadn’t even begun to understand, had started to find her way back to the surface. Any thoughts that I wasn’t cute enough for this, wasn’t confident enough for this, wasn’t anything enough for this, began to fade away. I guess I’d thought that photo shoots like this were for other people, not me. Turns out that was the biggest lie I’d ever told myself. I wasn’t about to waste any more time feeling inadequate or not being incredibly proud of the person I was.
This experience, like so many bold decisions, started with an epic breakup. A big thing I realized when that relationship ended was that I had stopped trying new things or leaving my comfort zone. I was flat-out uninspired. I felt incredibly unsexy, and not necessarily in just a physical way. My spirit, at that point, was what could only be described as gray and lumpy. My trademark giddy energy was gone because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d learned something new or exciting. I’d forgotten how many adventures life had to offer. Keep reading »
When I first agreed to write Dater X, there were several things I accepted from the get-go: I knew that this column would require me to reveal intimate details about my personal life to complete strangers. I understood that in doing so, my sharing would be therapeutic, as I’ve always been someone who learns, heals and grows by sharing my stories—especially the most painful and heartbreaking ones. I also came to terms with the fact that my weekly musings would be met with various opinions and judgments, and that not everything I wrote would be well received. Above all, I felt confident that, despite any criticism that might come my way, I was ready for all of it; including the part where I find love at the end of this whole thing (fingers crossed). Keep reading »
This weekend, my boyfriend got a new Samsung Galaxy phone and accompanying smartwatch, which is exactly what it sounds like — one of those watch phones they’ve been promising us since “The Jetsons.” The next big thing is here indeed. But the next big thing is weird. At first, I was just so relieved that he didn’t get Google Glass because I wouldn’t have been able to be seen with him in public anymore. When that wore off, I realized the watch phone came with its own set of quirks. And let’s just say, the smartwatch and I haven’t quite made peace with each other yet. Below, some awkward scenarios I failed to consider: Keep reading »
Couples and singles often view each other with a mix of confusion, suspicion, and, sometimes, straight-up hostility. We all know, deep down, that someone’s relationship status doesn’t define them or instantly turn them into a cliche, but that sure doesn’t stop most of us from making some ridiculous generalizations — even if we’ve personally been on both sides of the coin. Are your married friends sublimely happy all the time just because they’re married? No way! Is your single friend really free to dog sit for you anytime because she has no life? Nope. We wanted to debunk some of these ridiculous misconceptions as a reminder that we’re all on the same team. Here are some of the most common misguided assumptions single people make about couples (and vice versa). Read on to see what assumptions you might be making… Keep reading »
As I approach my two-year anniversary as an online dater (AKA my slow descent into madness), I’m finding myself incredibly bitter about the fact that I still haven’t met “the one.” I’ve always believed that there are multiple soul mates out there for everyone, but that the one person you end up with is entirely dependent upon a series of choices you make in life. Kind of like a Choose Your Own Adventure book, I feel that every decision I make — from selecting a career path, right down to whether or not I should run a yellow light — will determine which of those guys I end up with. In my eyes, there’s a different one at the end of every storyline. After dozens of dates and three pseudo-relationships — the longest of which lasted two months — I’m starting to doubt my theory. Keep reading »
No boyfriend is perfect. But when you’ve taken one into your heart, you’ve made a silent vow to accept each other as you are, imperfections, foibles and all. You’ve asked him a quadrillion times to stop leaving his wet towel on the carpet, yet, faithfully, it ends up there after every shower. And each day, you pick it up and hang it on the hook behind the bathroom door because, you know that he will make you scrambled eggs with cheese, just the way you like them, without being asked. This is love. What redeems him for the mildew stain he’s left behind in your bedroom? The little things he remembers that make your heart cartwheel with joy. Remembering things like your anniversary are a given, but other personal details — like the anniversary of your gram’s passing — can mean so much more. Here are a few: Keep reading »