• girl talk

Girl Talk: I Date Outside My Race, So What?

My boyfriend has a messy red beard and blond hair. He cooks me vegetarian meals just to make me happy. He takes his glasses off when he dances, and he can usually be found cutting a rug to dance hall or reggae. He was the Hamburglar for Halloween last year. When we’re out, he holds my hand. He walks me home from work. Every Sunday, he invites me to supper with his family.

After meeting my boyfriend for the first time, my co-worker muttered in a voice that I’m sure was meant for an internal monologue, “I didn’t expect him to look like that.” Keep reading »

Girl Talk: A Guy Found My Nuva Ring … Inside Of Me

I had tried all different kinds of birth control pills to help control my period pains over the course of three years, but nothing worked. There was still no relief from terrible cramps and heavy blood flow. My doctor suggested I try the NuvaRing, the once-a-month birth control device that is inserted into your vagina and secretes hormones for three weeks. Supposedly, the NuvaRing sits far enough inside of you that a man shouldn’t feel it or find it, but I can report that isn’t always the case. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: Why Being Called “An Opinionated Woman” Hurts

Last weekend, I was hanging out with a male friend who I’ll call Stan. Over the course of our convo, he brought up a mutual friend who writes a rather detailed blog about her sex life. Stan was obviously disturbed by the amount of sex she appeared to be having, and the circumstances under which she’s having it. He was so perturbed that, well, the term “slut” may have been thrown around once or twice.

I, of course, objected and a fight ensued. “Look, Chloe,” Stan said. “You’re a very opinionated woman …”

I couldn’t help but notice that the tone he used for the words “slut” and “opinionated” sounded exactly the same. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: Can A Friendship Work If One Of You Is Lagging Behind?

Of course I’m not actually “behind.” It’s not as though life’s milestones have point values assigned to them. But, within one of my closest friendships, it had started to feel that way.

I’m 28 years old, I live in New York City, and I’m single, which might read entirely commonplace except that if we were to get technical, I’d tell you that I haven’t been in a serious relationship in about four years. (Maybe more, depending on just how technical we’re getting.)

My long-term single-dom doesn’t bother me.

I’ve never lived with a boyfriend; I have no idea what that’s like. So when my friend would bring up the intricacies and complications that arise from cohabiting, I’d be hyper-aware of my blank expression and lack of insight.

There are levels to said lagging. If you’re in a relationship, you’re only a step ahead of me, and that’s a head start I can handle. It’s when cohabitation comes in to play that I start to feel like you’re lapping me, and I take that figurative distance between us and make it literal, the way I did with my best friend this past year.

Believe me, when my best girl and her boyfriend first got together, distance wasn’t at all present, despite us even living in different states at the time. Like many best friend duos, she and I were known to spend hours on the phone recounting trivial details of an impossible crush or first date, so when she told me she had a boyfriend, and that he was wonderful, I couldn’t have been happier for her. It’s important to note that during their first year of dating, I was still completely and totally single, and I didn’t find my friend’s serious relationship to be wedge-driving in the least.

I’ve never lived with a boyfriend; I have no idea what that’s like. So when my friend would bring up the intricacies and complications that arise from cohabiting, I’d be hyper-aware of my blank expression and lack of insight.

It’s not that I wasn’t interested in what she was saying; it was that I was so completely unable to relate, because I’m so far away from having that. When I would offer my input, I was painfully aware of how phony I sounded. Ask me about football, ask me about shacking up with a significant other; I’ve got nothing.

It happened gradually. I started feeling slightly embarrassed, telling her about my trivial-seeming relationships — in comparison with hers, I was in the minor leagues!.

Soon, going to her boyfriend-shared apartment felt like visiting another world I’d never live in. It got to the point where eating dinner at their adorably set table made me wonder if she resented having to eat on the couch while at mine. Eventually, she and I were barely speaking. I’m lucky, because a few months later, I received a note from her in the mail. It said simply that she missed our friendship, and I recognized immediately that I did too, and had for so long.

When we got to talking, I explained that I’d been feeling like somewhat of a failure in comparison to her and her cohabiting, all-grown-up self. She listened, and said she understood how I’d feel that way, but assured me that she didn’t see my life happenings as any less significant than hers. She helped me remember that just because you and your friends may start out in similar life stages, this doesn’t mean that you’ll forever move at the same pace towards life’s main markers.

Last weekend, during a sleepover at this same friend’s Brooklyn apartment that she shares with her boyfriend (he was out of town for the night), I felt myself slowing down a story I was telling her about a recent guy’s lack of potential. I recognized that same old feeling creeping up, like what I was concerned with was trivial compared to the relationship intricacies she deals with on a daily basis. But as I slowed my speaking cadence, she took the opportunity to ask me a follow-up question, and then another, and I was reassured that while we might not be able to exactly relate to each other on every issue, we could still certainly spend hours talking. And let me tell you, I slept very, very well — on my friend and her boyfriend’s shared couch — that night.

Photo: iStockphoto

Girl Talk: Five Years Late To The Prom

For two months, I excitedly prepared for prom. But instead of planning with classmates during sixth period study hall, I consulted with coworkers over coffee breaks. That’s because I’m not an 18-year-old high school senior; I’m a 23-year-old recent college grad. Don’t be alarmed –there was nothing salacious (or illegal) going on. I simply started dating a guy who was in his fourth year at a college two hours out of town. Every year, the small college holds a senior formal for its impending graduates and he asked me to be his date. I, very happily, accepted.

A part of me hoped this formal experience would get the bad taste of prom out of my mouth. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: What Female Competition Has To Learn From World Cup Soccer

I am by no means a sports fan. In fact, if I’m being honest, it took me eight full days to bother turning on ESPN to tune into the World Cup — this despite New York City’s peculiar, nearly European-scale football/soccer mania which has surrounded me for over a week and permeated my consciousness.

I’ve seen soccer matches before. I’ve attended them before. And I enjoy them, sure. My command of its rules and strategies is shaky at best, even though I played soccer as a kid. I recall seeing a match in Seville, Spain, and remember that after marveling over the physical beauty of the swarthy, sweaty, sexy footballers and getting momentarily swept up in the intense emotions of the fans, I got totally bored. No one ever scored, and the players seemed more interested in feigning injury and pantomiming intense pain to earn penalty kicks than in scoring hard-earned goals. And after hours of back and forth, the teams TIED. No one came out a winner.

THIS is the sport everyone loses their minds over? Keep reading »

Girl Talk: We Survived Our First Move Together (Just Barely)

Over the weekend, my husband and I moved from our cramped, rundown, one-bedroom apartment near crowded Times Square in Manhattan, to a spacious, gut-rehabbed, state-of-the-art two-bedroom brownstone on a quiet, tree-lined street in Brooklyn. To say I’m happier in the new place would be an understatement. It’s as if I’d eaten McDonald’s hamburgers — not even cheeseburgers or Big Macs or Quarter Pounders, but regular ol’ tiny, boring, junk-food hamburgers — at every meal for the last several years and now I’m suddenly sitting down to delicious, nutritious, home-cooked meals of the finest cuts of meat and freshest veggies whenever I’m hungry. It wasn’t easy getting from one place to another though, both literally and metaphorically. It was a long time coming, and in the weeks leading up to the move — the very first move Drew and I have ever made together — I wondered if we’d even make it to our first wedding anniversary next month. Few things in life challenge a relationship quite like moving does, but I’m happy to report we survived the hurdle. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: I Want To Be Like My Dad

My father doesn’t like trying anything new. Paying bills for instance. He still writes checks and sends them snail mail. “You can pay everything online now,” I’ve told him. “It’s faster and you don’t have to use stamps.”

He refuses, though he’s fairly internet-savvy, because he’s paid bills this way for the past 30 years, dammit, and that’s the way he’s going to keep paying them. He can get impatient. His stories can go on forever. He can be antisocial and crabby.

I want to be just like him when I grow up. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: I’m Ridiculously Hard To Date

If you ever met me, you’d probably think I’m a bitch. I wouldn’t argue. I like to yell and complain, and I never hesitate to tell someone if I don’t like them unless I think I can gain something by keeping my mouth shut. I’m volatile and can go off like a firecracker without a moment’s notice. I don’t go out of my way to be nice to people, but if you say something I don’t like, I’ll certainly go out of my way to be nasty to you.

My friends and family are used to it and somehow manage to enjoy my company. [Editor's Note: For the record, we here at The Frisky have never seen Nikki be anything but jovial and totally hilarious.] Once I let someone in, I really let them in. If I like you—or love you—I’ll do almost anything to make you happy or help you out. I’m extremely loyal. I guess, for my friends and family, the good has, over time, outweighed the bad. They are able to forgive the volatility and occasional craziness, so long as it isn’t directed at them. Since I only see my family occasionally and usually just get together with my friends on the weekends, they hardly ever see my bad side.

But dating me is another story. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: I’m In The Market For A FWB

Here is a fact: I have never had a f**k buddy/friend with benefits. This is likely for the same reason it’s become common knowledge that I am incapable of having a one-night stand without getting a case of the sadz — I cannot stop myself from associating sex with love. The nature of a f**k buddy situation is that the two people involved like each other as people and as sex objects, but not as boyfriend/girlfriend material. The difference between a friends with benefits situation and a one-night-stand, of course, is that usually in the case of FWB, the two people involved already know each other and, in theory, have ruled out any interest in the other person as a potential mate, at least for the time being. Now, I’ve had one-night-stands with friends and thankfully have maintained those friendships even after our clothes were back on, but a successful, ongoing, fun friends with benefits situation has eluded me. Well, here’s a confession: I want one. Bad. Keep reading »

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