A while back I was dating a guy that I was really into. In hindsight, the relationship was ridiculous… but I was transported by what seemed like some of the best between-the-sheets I’ve ever had, and I besotted myself into some idea that we had a future. So I was devastated when I was dumped, over email. (Yep, even in middle age, some men still do that.)
I went through the usual shock and awe, aided by piles of tissue and a hive of caring girlfriends. Moving through the stages of grieving, I saw him clearly for the incapable slouch that he was. But what kept nagging at me was how much I was going to miss that naked tango. Read more…
The holiday season can be a tricky time to be single, even if you’ve been that way for a while, even if you’re totally comfortable with it the other 11 months of the year. Some weird single holiday haze descends and makes the most well-adjusted among us feel like a lousy lumps of unwanted coal. Spending time with your family can, well, make you feel vulnerable and stressed. Sleeping in your childhood bed (or a pull out cot in my case while my brother and his wife take my bed) can, well, make you feel as bitter and lonely as the Grinch. The combination of Hallmark ephemera, sentimental Foldger’s commercials, and old black and white movies playing on a loop can make you, well, overly emotional and temporarily insane. All of the above may cause you do naughty things. Like think it’s a good idea to contact say, an ex that you know you shouldn’t. Don’t let this happen to you. Nowhere in the rules of Holiday does it say that you should extend kindness and good will to some not-good-for-you douche bag. The holidays are NOT a valid excuse for fraternizing with ghosts of relationships past. In fact, it will probably only make you feel worse. Once the haze has lifted all you’ll be left with is the lingering shame … and there’s no gift receipt for that. It’s not worth it. After the jump, some ways to keep this holiday season ex-free Keep reading »
I am going to refrain from going into too much detail and say that I, like most women, have one awful ex. I’ve dated lots of dudes in my years on the scene and there is no other man that compares to him in the badness department. I’ve lived with a low-level and persistent fear of running into him. I’m not afraid of him, but rather afraid of how I would behave if I saw him.
Keep reading »
Leonardo DiCaprio and Blake Lively are dating. And — at least according to The National Enquirer — Blake was none too pleased when she was at Leo’s New York apartment recently and discovered a suitcase full of lingerie belonging to his ex, model Bar Refaeli. Allegedly, she flipped out, and Leo—being the gentleman that he is—promptly marched down to the dumpster to destroy the evidence. A nice save, considering his first reaction probably went something like, “Don’t worry, she just hasn’t picked it up yet.” [CelebSlam]
We feel (insecure?) for Blake. We too have had unfortunate experiences with traces of exes past in guys’ homes. After the jump, some stories from Frisky staffers and friends. Cringe for us, please. Keep reading »
This weekend, I received a text from my good friend Cara, letting me know she’d run into my ex-boyfriend out front of a local bar. (The ex that broke up with me over IM and then moved four blocks away, because he’s a really cool guy.) Apparently the first thing he said to my friend was, “Julie hates me,” which I took as a half-hearted attempt to elicit sympathy and pity, and reassurance from Cara that I didn’t (no, no, I do.). Thankfully, she didn’t buy his act, and told him that, well, yes, he probably could have handled our breakup better (see aforementioned breakup-over-IM for reference). But did I really want to know my lady friend had run into my dumb ex?
Well… Keep reading »
This story begins with an answering machine. Which means that, yes, it happened a long time ago—I believe in 2003. I was at home in North Carolina visiting my parents, and on the second day of my stay, I plunged my key in the lock of the front door, dropped my bag on the table beside it, and hit the play button on the answering machine—autopilot reflexes I’d perfected years before when I’d actually lived in this house. The first message was obviously for my parents—skip. Ditto for message number two. But the third message contained a familiar baritone voice—Liam*, the guy I’d dated my senior year of high school through my junior year of college. We hadn’t spoken in the two years since we’d broken up.
Oh, that’s nice, I thought. I haven’t heard from him in forever. We should really meet for a cup of coffee while I’m here. Wait a second. How did he know I was home?
“It was wonderful seeing you two last week,” Liam said, his deep voice echoing through the foyer. “Thanks for the advice.”
And that’s when it hit me—this message wasn’t for me. It was for my parents. Keep reading »