Tag Archives: girl talk

Girl Talk: I Feel Pressured To Get Married Or Break Up

She found me next to the growing pile of crock pots and kitchen sets. I was seated near the bride, half praising her newest pair of plush monogrammed bath towels, half wondering if a fourth glass of champagne would be overdoing it.

She perched on a wing chair and turned to me. “So. How are you and the boyfriend doing?” Her eyebrows were arched and her lips pursed expectantly, as if she knew I must have a juicy tidbit to share.

“We’re doing well,” I said vaguely, determined not to let this friend-of-a-friend pry into my personal life.

“You guys have been together a couple years now, right? Out of school for one? When are you going to get The Ring?” She giggled and swatted my leg as if to say, “We’re so bad!” Clearly, she was determined, too. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: I Feel Like I’m Married To My Best Friend

“I’ve been thinking…”

Oh, God. Those three words. My heart rate quickened, hoping the next set of words weren’t going to be awful.

“I want to move to live with you in D.C. I really do. It’s just … I feel like this is all happening so fast. In a few months, I could have a new job, new apartment, a new life basically, and I keep asking myself ‘Am I ready for this??’ I think I am. I’m almost completely positive that I am. But I’m trying to figure out what’s best for me AND what’s best for us, and I’m feeling a lot of pressure.”

As serious as

I’m the one who pushes the envelope a bit too far sometimes, and she’s the practical one who reins me back in. She doesn’t let me get out of hand, and I in turn force her out of her comfort zone a bit.

“What’s so funny?”

“We sound married,” I said.

She broke down in a fit of tear-inducing, breathless laughter. The truth of it was too ridiculous not to laugh about. Between gasps for air, she asked, “What’s your boyfriend going to think?!”

My best friend, K., is planning a total life-transplant to Washington, D.C. to live with me. The plan has been in the works for over six months, though we had always wanted to live together after we graduated college. She’s tired of living in the same city — and in the same house — that she’s lived in with her parents since infancy. Moving back home wasn’t exactly her first choice after graduating over a year ago, but in this economy it was practically impossible to save any money without making the move home. She’s eager to get out of the city and her parents’ home, and start a more independent life in a place with much more opportunity.

Last August, I also moved back home in order to save money. Like K., I’m ready to leave, and my parents and I have agreed on a time range for me to move out. I lived alone once and hated it, so I’m determined to have a roommate. I’d prefer not to live with a stranger, K. prefers not to live with a stranger, and K. has always planned to move to D.C., so it seems logical that we move in together. We’re looking at a deadline of anywhere between two and four months from now, which means there are a lot of details to work out in not a lot of time.

The impending move has forced us to think like an entity, like a married couple. We’re facing questions and hurdles that any committed pair would face in our situation. Where do we want to live? How much are we willing to pay? How much would we each like to save? What kind of job is K. looking for? Should she move before she finds a job to ensure she’s there before I have to sign a lease? What’s our long-term goal for the place we choose? When should she tell her current employer that she’s leaving?

Answering each question is an exercise in patience, compromise and understanding. There isn’t any, “Well, I want this so we have to do that,” or “I’m moving at this time and that’s final. Live with me if you want” … you know, the kind of passive-aggressive bitchy dialogue you might find between two female friends and future roommates. We find a way to answer each problem that faces us in a way that we can both live with and agree on, that will be mutually beneficial to each of us now and in the future. There are no ultimatums or snappy requests, because we’re committed to each other. We can’t be demanding because that’s not healthy for the relationship in the long-term.

So. Why the hell am I so committed to being with my best friend? Why is it so important that we make decisions together and sacrifice things for each other, when we aren’t a couple? We aren’t required to have a life-long dedication to each other, so why act like we do? Living with strangers isn’t that bad.

More than being best friends, K. and I are also business partners. We found out long ago, when we were roommates for three years in college, that we had strikingly similar goals for our life. Over the past two years we combined those interests and similarities and formulated a plan for an enterprise that we want to undertake one day. It has proven to be an all-consuming passion for both of us, and the fervor has only grown now that we’ve each been out in the working world for a year, at jobs that neither of us are overly thrilled to be doing. Living together isn’t a vital necessity, but it would make working toward this goal a hell of a lot easier.

I’m the one who pushes the envelope a bit too far sometimes, and she’s the practical one who reins me back in. She doesn’t let me get out of hand, and I in turn force her out of her comfort zone a bit.

The dream would flounder if one of us decided to leave or give up; we balance each other out in a way that we’re confident will prove very successful in the future.

Just like any committed couple, we’re looking at the bigger picture. Yes, asking K. to leave her job and relocate her life so that we can make more headway on our plan isn’t easy. But we made a promise to turn this goal into a reality years ago. So in sickness and in health, we’re sticking to that vow.

Rachel writes a weekly relationship column for the up-and-coming pop culture source The Morton Report. Follow her on Twitter.

Photo: Digital Vision/Thinkstock

Girl Talk: I Like Dating Shorter Guys

This might surprise you, but I didn’t find out until recently that most women do not feel the same way as me when it comes to loving vertically challenged men. When most women find out about my preference for smooching shorties, it’s usually met with crinkled noses and “I could never” or “gross” or the occasional “oh, hell no!” I smile and say, “Great! That leaves more short guys for me.” And they look at me like I just recited one of Hitler’s speeches in German. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: Flirting Over Social Media? That’s Micro-Infidelity

As I’ve watched the Weinergate scandal unfold over the past few days, I’ve related to the particulars in a discomforting way. Six months, I also found myself with a partner who flirted with a woman (at least, one woman that I know of) over the Internet. The unfaithfulness on my ex-boyfriend’s part — or his micro-infidelity, as I’ve come to think of it — is an indubitable reason why our relationship tanked. Although Rep. Anthony Weiner’s transgressions over Facebook and Twitter far exceed the ways my ex-boyfriend violated my trust, I nevertheless feel some woman-to-woman solidarity with Weiner’s wife, State Department aide Huma Abedin. She, too, is likely wondering where on the relativity scale — from Arnold Schwarzenegger’s hidden love child(ren) to dick pic tweets — she should classify the way her partner was unfaithful to her. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: I Like My Bigger Body Better

Five years ago I had an “ideal” body.

I don’t mean to say that my body was free of imperfections, but rather that I had a body that most women are taught to believe is close to perfect: I was 5” 5’, weighed barely 115 pounds, and wore a size 2. I had a tiny waist, medium-sized breasts, a taut stomach, round bottom, and cellulite that was practically nonexistent. I was extremely slender, yet still somehow carried a feminine hourglass figure. I could never have been a contestant on “America’s Next Top Model,” but for a perfectly normal girl I had a perfectly enviable body.

Flash forward five years. Though I don’t own a scale, I’m probably 20 pounds heavier thanks to a slower metabolism, college drinking and a dire love of cheese. I now wear a size 6, my waist isn’t quite so minuscule, my stomach jiggles, I have cellulite swimming on my thighs, and I have ample junk in my apple-bottom trunk. My breasts have gotten ever-so-slightly bigger, but for every tiny bit that they’ve grown, my ass and thighs grew 10 times that … leaving me much more of a pear than an hourglass. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: How Commuting Killed My Relationship

“The commute is killing me,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

My live-in boyfriend Jeff looked at me, puzzled. I couldn’t blame him. The way I behaved when I got home from work every day was, well, puzzling. After a 12-hour work day as a high school teacher and a two-hour commute home through bumper-to-bumper Los Angeles traffic, I arrived home every night in a rage. On the worst days, I would push through the door of our apartment like a tornado, slam it shut, scream at Jeff, run into the bedroom and cry like a five-year-old. This is embarrassing for me to admit, but it’s true. I should probably also mention that I am usually a fairly calm, only occasionally histrionic person. I was not behaving like myself. Keep reading »

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