Over on Twitter right now, one of the trending topics is #Icantbewithsomeone, and people are giving all sorts of funny, honest and, of course, offensive, reasons why they couldn’t be with a particular person. It got me thinking about what would keep me from being with someone. Sure, I’m married and not looking for a new “someone,” but I couldn’t help but play along anyway. After the jump, 10 things that would keep me from dating someone. Keep reading »
Dan had a big grin in his profile picture, like he’d just said something super funny. He liked foreign novels, old buildings, and could spell in complete words. He looked like a cute professor.
Could this be … my guy?
I’d been online dating for a few months – long enough. There were the guys who lied about their age/height/marital status, the guy who said I was a dead ringer for his favorite blond sports reporter and would I mind putting on a fake newscast for him, and my favorite, the guy who asked me not to use face cream because he had a phobia about moisturizers. Keep reading »
I’ve written about a few dating dealbreakers I’ve encountered — the virgin; bad sex; the dumb guy — and my friends and Frisky commenters are always quick to jump in with their own list of turnoffs that will make a guy undateable.
We hate their below-the-belt grooming (or lack thereof), their obsession with sports, their awful sense of style. But wait. Sometimes we put our razors on strike and spend marathon afternoons on the couch watching “Say Yes to the Dress.” And a guy who nitpicks our fashion choices? He’s out of there faster than he can figure out how to pronounce “Christian Louboutin.”
Let’s cut the boys some slack. Maybe it’s time to take a theatrically long look in the mirror and ask ourselves, “Would I date me?” We asked our girlfriends for their “I wouldn’t date me” dealbreakers: the habits and quirks that we’re guilty of … but have ditched men over. It turns out we’re hypocrites about a few things. Keep reading »
Have you ever scooped a red jellybean out of a bowl, expecting it to be sweet and cherry-flavored and instead you’ve shocked your tongue with a hot cinnamon surprise?
Whenever this happens to me, I feel sort of betrayed – expecting something and getting something drastically different in its place. And sure, it’s one thing when it happens with a sugary candy or perhaps a soup (you expect it to be hot, but it’s actually a super gourmet, weirdo cold situation), but when this same situation happens with a man it’s bound to throw you for a loop. And that’s exactly what happened to me not too long ago – I was expecting a sickly sweet romance and instead I got a fire-breathing hell boy.
Let me explain. Keep reading »
Chris brought me flowers every week. Chris wined and dined me and took me on spontaneous romantic getaways. Chris called when he said he would, made plans in advance, opened doors, and held hands. But when he wasn’t doing all of those things, Chris was also kind of an a**hole.
There is a moment in every doomed-to-fail union when your relationship jumps the shark, whether you know it or not. Maybe he forgets to calls one time too many or cancels again. Maybe you just wake up one day and realize you’re tired of his face. For me, that moment with Chris came when I told him that my work schedule would make it impossible to hang out for a couple of days. On the brink of a giant promotion, I was coming in early and staying late, and I warned him I would be too busy to grab dinner in the coming 72 hours.
It is a nice feeling when your boyfriend expresses interest in seeing you often and is disappointed when you can’t get together. It’s most certainly not a nice feeling to sit and watch in horror as a grown 36-year-old man gets red in the face, curls his lips into an exaggerated pout, stamps his feet, and makes whining sounds. Keep reading »
Tobey* was the perfect guy to date right after my divorce. He was cute, fun, and had a body like a gymnast. He was younger than I was, but not too young. He liked the same things I did: eating good food, going to the movies, and strolling around Manhattan. He was a great kisser and even better in the sack.
Then he told me I needed grooming.
Not just any grooming. Down there grooming. Keep reading »