Rich and famous Hayden Panetierre says she can’t get a man because of all the media attention she gets.
“It’s very, very difficult and people have no idea what they do to peoples’ relationships. They destroy them. The paparazzi and the public. The public wants to read about your personal life, and the paparazzi give it to them by nosing into your personal life and saying things that are just not true and horrible.”
Cry me a river, Hayden! In reality, there are worse professions when it comes to love. Try sex and relationship blogger. The potential threat of having your love life exposed on the internets is no one’s aphrodisiac. After the jump, the worst relationship dealbreaker jobs on the planet. Keep reading »
I’ve been doing the online dating thing for a while. Match, Nerve, JDate, OkCupid, you name it. Generally, I’m a fan. (It feels sort of like shopping for boys, no?) That said, there’s also a lot about it that never fails to appall me. Namely, what guys seem to think is attractive, funny, or sexy in their profiles. For some of these men, the dealbreaker can be small—that moment when you’re checking him out, and all is going well until you scroll down to see that one off-putting thing and it’s click, on to the next. Then of course, there are the all-around disaster cases where everything from the picture to the description is horrifically wrong.
Here, some examples (both hilarious and bizarre) of online dating dealbreakers. For the ladies out there, let us know if you agree. For the guys, take notes. Please. Keep reading »
I may be generalizing, but most guys are pretty into the idea of dating a girl who’s bisexual. Because, though it may never actually happen, you know that if your girlfriend likes chicks, there’s the potential there for not only some girl-on-girl action, but also possibly, some day, a threesome, that holy grail of male sexual experiences.
But what about the reverse? Are women into dating bisexual men? Totally impartial? Turned off? Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with bisexuality, but always have had the nagging feeling that being bi is basically just a pit stop on the road to gay. (Gay, for the record, is also a fine place, but not a place I’d want my boyfriend to wind up.)
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I am 30 years old, single, and have been that way for a while. As I approached the big 3-0, starting around mid-28, I began to panic about my singlehood, asking myself some tough questions: “What am I doing wrong?” “Are my standards are too high?” “Do I have too much baggage?” I made a new dating motto for myself: “No guy left behind,” ensuring that all dudes got a chance. This equal opportunity dating model led me straight into the jaws of a string of freaks, losers, liars, a-holes, guys with girlfriends, and one very, er…unique guy I’ll call H.
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Because I’m young and carefree, I’ve been keeping my options open and dating a couple of guys at the same time. No more than two, because beyond that, things get a little sloppy. Well, two works until decision time comes around and you’re writing out each one’s pros versus cons. That’s where I am right now — paper-ready,with pen in hand.
Guy #1 is nice, funny and cute, but Guy #2 is gloriously attractive and kind of witty. Sort of. Sometimes. OK, barely. The choice seems clear: ditch the hot, boring guy in favor of the cute, funny one, right? Not so fast. I thought I had arrived at that conclusion, but still haven’t actually axed Guy #2. My conundrum, after the jump …
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Everyone knows that there are lots of fish in the sea. Some fish travel in schools and enjoy the security of being identical to their underwater neighbors. I always preferred the beta fish, however; colorful and unique, the beta fish swims alone and exudes individuality. Just like the beta fish that attacks any gilled creature that resembles his reflection, Carbon Copy and I were doomed from the start. The pond simply was not big enough for the both of us. Keep reading »
According to my mom, the three hallmarks of adulthood are appreciating jazz, a taste for cantaloupe, and sleeping in a bed that is larger than a twin. Unfortunately, Mom’s wisdom does not apply to dudes here in New York City, specifically in the arty enclave of Brooklyn, in which I dwell. Sure, they have the jazz and melon part down, but what about the boys whose rooms I’ve stumbled into, ready for action, just to discover that—really? We’re working with a twin-sized bed? Keep reading »
Peter owning up to Googling me on our first date should have been the first warning sign. Don’t get me wrong: I Google, you Google, we all Google acquaintances. Doing it in private is one thing. Saying it out loud is another.
“Did I tell you who I work for?” I asked. It was technically a blind date, as we’d corresponded only a few times through an online dating service.
“Oh, no, but I think I know,” he said.
“How is that possible?”
“Oh, well … I Googled you.” Point blank. I Googled you. Keep reading »
I have said and/or done the wrong thing so many times that it’s truly the eighth wonder of the world that I ever managed to trick anyone into dating me more than once. There was the time I fell off my chair and farted (loudly) just as my butt hit the ground. Or the guy I leapt away from as he tried to kiss me, gesturing frantically at the giant oozing cold sore on my lip. (I still don’t know how he missed that thing—I’m pretty sure it was visible on Google Earth.)
There are plenty other gems in my arsenal of embarrassment, but who hasn’t had a red-faced moment or ten? I used to beat myself up over these transgressions, but despite my occasionally questionable behavior, most of the men I’ve been out with have forgiven me quite cheerfully. In turn, I’ve turned a blind eye to their missteps and gaffes. What I’ve found is that it comes down to levels and limits. Here are some guidelines.
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It was a drizzly night, and I was walking down the street with Luke, my boyfriend at the time, to a comedy club where he was performing that night. He held an umbrella over my head and had his arm wrapped around my shoulder. I should have been giddy, but instead I felt apprehensive. We’d been dating for a few months, but this was the first time I was going to one of his shows.
“So, you’re not going to make fun of me, are you?” I asked, flashing back to Jerry Seinfeld and man hands and close talking. What if he called me out in public on some absurd quirk I never knew existed?
“No,” he said. “That’s a cheap laugh.” His material was more sophisticated, even a touch political, he said.
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