Maybe I should be over this by age 35, when the vast majority of my peers are on the procreation train and it’s just something I should be expecting, but I still feel a twinge of, I don’t even know what to call the feeling, when I discover that a guy I used to date has gone and made a baby. It’s not quite wistfulness or jealousy — but it’s certainly unsettling.
The other day I was scrolling through Instagram when I discovered that I guy I dated briefly a bunch of years ago was a parent. He posted a picture of his wife (?) and his 9-month-old daughter(!?), who looked eerily like his much younger, female twin (like, she had the same haircut as him…it was weird). His hashtag: #neverdreamedthisdaywouldcome. “Damn right, you didn’t,” I replied to my iPhone screen, enlarging the picture to get a closer look. Below, the range of reactions you can expect to go through when you find yourself in this situation… Keep reading »
Everything went swimmingly on date number two with Officer Handsoming. In fact, it was perfect. Much to my delight, he did not morph into a stage-five clinger, ask my breast size or give me any indication that we will ever end up on an episode of “Dateline.”
Instead, he took me to a new wine and burger bar (knowing that I’m a sucker for Cabernet Sauvignon and red meat), opened doors and listened intently as we chatted. Time flew by while we talked about the movies that make us cry (“The Family Stone” and “The Green Mile” for me, and “Remember Me,” for him), what it was like growing up with divorced parents, and how much we both love Jennifer Lawrence, because, honestly, who doesn’t? We continued the date back at my place, where we rented a movie, got under the covers and rounded first base like naughty teenagers. And when we finally stopped sucking face, I wore my newfound beard burn like a badge of honor.
“I really like you,” he told me. “I’m already looking forward to next time.” Keep reading »
In his new project, 12 SHOES for 12 LOVERS, artist Sebastian Errazuriz puts all of his past relationships on display as a collection of shoes. “When I started this process I never imagined where it would end up, it’s been infinitely more complex, revealing and difficult than I thought,” said Errazuriz, whose Shoes are currently on display in Miami. Well,I would think so.
His Shoes, with names like “The Rock,” “The Boss,” “The Virgin,” “The Hot Bitch,” “The Gold Digger” and the “Cry Baby” include personal photos and stories in which Errazuriz reveals “a glimpse of each relationship and in the process exposes himself to scrutiny and judgment.” (He also shares intimate details, which I’m sure they’re thrilled about.) The women’s names have been changed to protect their identities, but I’m sure they know who they are. And now, you will spend the rest of the day imagining what you would look like as a high heel. I think the shoe version of me would definitely have a face. After the jump, you can see a couple more of Errazuriz’s Shoes, I mean exes. [Laughing Squid] Keep reading »
You’re on your way to your local watering hole one evening and you spot something familiar in the gait, the walk, the hand gestures of a person heading your way on the street. You realize with sudden, sinking dread that it’s your ex who you haven’t seen since the breakup. You grab your best friend’s elbow and hiss in her ear, “That’s him.” You stay in place, paralyzed and unable to move, until she grabs you by the back of the arm and steers you across the street. You think yourself invisible while you stand in between two parked cars, waiting for him to pass.
Later, when you get a text that says, “Did I just see you outside that bar?” you wait two hours and numerous drinks before texting back in all caps “NOPE.” Near the end of the night, as you sit on top of a bar stool with your best friend like imperious, drunk queens, you blatantly ignore him when he enters the bar to retrieve his forgotten credit card. Likely story. Even with his sudden ambush, you manage to avoid contact. At the end of the night you collapse into bed with a glass of water in hand, and think to yourself, Crisis averted!
But really, was it? Keep reading »
“Why didn’t any of the guys you dated love you as much as I do?” my boyfriend asked.
The question hung in the air like foggy breath steaming up a cold windshield. It’s one of his favorite questions to ask. To him, it’s a mystery why other guys passed me over. It’s a riddle I love him for wanting to solve.
“I don’t get it,” he said.
“Me neither,” I shrugged.
These are the kinds of conversations you have four hours into a five-hour road trip, after you’ve listened to a Lorrie Moore short story on The New Yorker Fiction podcast and gossiped about people you know and stopped at an abandoned McDonald’s with one, lone carousel pony on display in the dining area. The pony looked out of place — like it was in search of its missing carousel. Keep reading »
My friend Nina and I were having one of our typical “where oh where have the good men gone?” whine-fests when it randomly occurred to me that I knew one.
I felt as neutral about Matt as you can possibly feel about an ex-boyfriend. He had a lot in common with the wine Nina and I so often indulged in: he was delicious, addicting, and made me giddy. On the flip side, he left me with a massive headache the next day. But I couldn’t hate him for it — it was his nature. I knew we would never date again, but I still wanted Matt in my life. Totally kicking him to the curb would be like pouring a perfectly good bottle of Pinot Noir down the drain, and that’s just wasteful.
Both Nina and Matt were intrigued by the idea of being set up and quickly agreed. Watch out, Patti Stanger – here comes the Minimum Wage Matchmaker! Actually, my clientele is more of the indebted grad student variety, but that’s not as catchy. Keep reading »