I think I’ve mentioned (numerous times) that canned dating advice drives me crazy. Love and relationships are not a one-size-fits-all pair of shoes. I admittedly don’t have all the answers, but I’ve found that I give the best advice when I share my own stories — as weird as they may be — and offer empathy. Inspired by Jack Handy’s “Deep Thoughts,” Date-Ade offers stream of consciousness solutions for stressed daters.
If you have a sex, dating or relationship dilemma that you’d like for me to try to illuminate (no promises), send your questions to email@example.com.
When I went through my last breakup (before my current, very happy relationship) — I think I was on breakup #72 in my dating lifetime — I was like, game over. I’m not doing this anymore. Because at a certain point, after enough relationships bomb, you just don’t have the will to keep trying anymore. I know I didn’t. I was like Wile E. Coyote when he gets flattened by the Roadrunner, only without the motivation to get back up. It wasn’t that I was so heartbroken over this guy; it was that I was so heartbroken over constantly getting my heart broken. While I was peeling my soul off the asphalt (read: drinking lots of Malbec and doing lots of hot yoga) a friend said something helpful to me: Where there is driftwood. Keep reading »
I was still trying to understand the impetus behind toilet dating, when I saw yet another shitty idea for the unattached: single wristbands. Seriously, is trying to embarrass single people trendy for fall? Rina Mardahl and Rob Young’s amazing relationship inspired them to create MY Single Band, colored, silicone wristbands that single people can wear to identify each other in public places. Kind of like those Live Strong bands but for the unlucky in love. If you didn’t catch it, the “MY” in MY Single Band is the first initial of both of their last names. CLEVER.
Even though these two just happened to get lucky and meet while they were on vacation (without the help colored bands to identify themselves, they’re very concerned that the rest of the single population might “miss out on meeting their soul mate by not saying the first hi.” Keep reading »
I wake up at the butt crack of dawn, even on the weekends because I am some weird robot who has been programmed to rise when the sun does. I want to be able to turn my operating system off until at least 9 a.m. on a Sunday like most normal people do, I just can’t seem to find the switch. Just call me “Small Wonder.”
When I was single, this was a good thing, because I would hit the drug store, the grocery store and be the first customer at the nail salon when they opened. By the time it was late enough to start sending text messages, I was done with all my stuff. Now, when my boyfriend spends the night, I try to wait for him because he likes to cook breakfast for me. This would be just amazing if I didn’t wake up a full four hours before him. On the days that I can’t motivate to work out or run morning errands, I have a lot of time to do me. (As in,” I’m doin’ me.”)
“What have you been doing all this time?” my boyfriend asks, when he finally rolls out of bed at 11 a.m.
“Oh nothing much,” I reply.
That’s a total lie. I lived 12 days in those four hours. Here’s a typical snapshot of how I really spent my time while he was sleeping: Keep reading »
The other day, I made a list of every guy I’ve ever dated seriously, dated a couple times, dated until I got the “Oh no, there’s been an emergency and I must leave immediately!” phone call, or made out with and never actually dated at all.
To put it simply, the list was rather lengthy. Like, extremely lengthy. In doing this, I realized that every single one of these guys had some kind of dealbreaker. Obviously, because I’m still single. There was the guy who wanted to get married after the first date. There was the guy who gave me mono and literally ran away from me when I tried to talk to him about it, which was pretty rude considering I had mono and couldn’t really run after him. The list goes on. I could write about these dealbreakers forever, and I probably will because a lot of them are hilarious. But there’s a problem.
It occurred to me that while I’ve often been the one to do the breaking up/ignoring until they get the hint and go away, it hasn’t always been my call. Could it be that — gasp! — I’m not perfect either? As much crap as I give the guys I’ve dated, I’m just as guilty of being a weirdo as they are. What if, on some website in some alternate universe where guys write publicly about their feelings, one of the guys on my really long list wrote about the dealbreakers he discovered when it came to dating me? Here are some ideas for him, so he doesn’t have to work too hard to finish his blog post: Keep reading »
In my years of writing at The Frisky, I think I’ve mentioned (numerous times) that canned dating advice drives me crazy. Love and relationships are not a one-size-fits-all pair of shoes. All of our feet are different! Often our sex and relationship dilemmas are more existential in nature and can’t be solved with a simple how-to list. Every now and then, I get a letter from a Frisky reader (or a friend) asking for love advice. I admittedly don’t have all the answers, but I’ve found that I give the best advice when I share my own stories — as weird as they may be — and offer empathy. Inspired by Jack Handy’s Deep Thoughts, my new video series Date-Ade offers mini stream of consciousness meditations for stressed daters.
If you have a sex,dating or relationship dilemma that you’d like for me to try to illuminate (no promises), send me your questions at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Remember that episode of “Sex and the City” where Carrie got a big advance for her book while her boyfriend, Jack Berger, watched his flounder? He was so jealous of her success! And he didn’t want to be that guy! As much as “SATC” got basically every single thing about relationships wrong, they still managed to kind of nail this one. Sometimes you are dating that guy, and you are that woman. Your career is on the up and up, while he’s either stuck in a job with no mobility, or straight up unemployed.
We live in a time when women are increasingly likely to be the sole breadwinners in their families and, in some career paths, we even get paid as much or more than our male colleagues. Which is awesome. It’s exactly what we wanted.
But it can also cause tension in relationships because, to be honest, we haven’t really collectively agreed on how to deal with the shift; women have been conditioned to behave as if men have more money, more career ambition, and more promise, even as statistics prove that is less and less likely to be the case. Below are some tips for how to deal when you’re blowing up, but the person you’re dating isn’t. Keep reading »
I started out my college dating career the way most girls do: with a boyfriend back home that I tried to breakup with before I left, but couldn’t quite go through with it. When I said goodbye to Danny* at the airport, he pushed a fishnet-gloved palm up against the glass (this was in the days when you could still walk people to the gate) and sobbed as I boarded a plane to NYC. I wasn’t crying, at least, not until I got to my dorm and realized that I was going to be crazy lonely. I called Danny and tried to sell him on keeping things going long distance. He agreed. It wasn’t until I met my (still to this day) best friend on the front steps of my dorm later that week and she also had a boyfriend back home she was trying to give the slip (also named Danny), that we mutually worked up the courage to dump our Dannys.
A free woman, my college dating career devolved into a series of mistakes wherein I consistently said YES to the wrong guys and NO to the right ones. I could roll the list out before you like double ply toilet paper: the guy with the infected tongue ring, the prematurely balding guy who invited me over to his dorm room to watch a James Bond movie (translation: try to get me to blow him), the guy in the wheelchair (who was really amazing until he left me for a girl who ended up moving in across the hall from me), the much older alcoholic who worked at a nightclub, the guy who told me I was “maladroit” when I fell off the hammock on his dorm balcony and then gave me a copy of Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil to read if we were “ever going to get along,” the guy who left me for a porn star while I was studying abroad, the boyfriend who told me he was going on a road trip to New Mexico and then I never heard from him again. Keep reading »