My mom has a boyfriend.
For most children of divorce this is nothing new–or perhaps all too common–but for me, this is big. Really big. You see, my mother has been single for most of my life. She has great friends, a close-knit family, and a job she feels passionate about, but she’s never really had a guy in her life since my parents divorced.
A typical Friday for her involves her bathrobe, the couch, our dog, and “The Daily Show” accompanied by the phrase “I like my life just the way it is!” Now, I realize that this sounds like the ideal Friday night for many people, myself included. But, it’s not really about the bathrobe or the TV shows or even the fact that it’s a Friday night. It’s about seeing some variation of this over and over again: My mother, alone. Keep reading »
This is not a story of how abortion is right or wrong. Nor is it about what other people are doing with their bodies, or what I think about that (as though it’s any of my business). No: this is just my story of how Planned Parenthood made some hard times a little easier for me, and how “real” healthcare (i.e., via insurance plans) can make things difficult. Keep reading »
Two years ago, after nearly 15 years of blow drying, flat ironing, highlighting, and dying, I was officially in a hair rut. I sat in the stylist’s chair. My hairdresser Tommy, a twentysomething, tattooed hipster was running his hands through my lackluster locks.
“I am 30 years old, ” I said, “I want rocking hair.” Keep reading »
Right after Ex-Mr. Jessica and I broke up around New Year’s, Tom*, a friend I’ve had for about four years asked if I wanted to go down to Washington, D.C., and visit him to get my mind off the breakup. I assumed there might be an ulterior motive there, but I was in pulling-my-hair-out, “Who knows why men do anything?!” mode and wasn’t totally sure. In any case, I told Tom I was still too sad to be good company, which was true.
Keep reading »
In a classic episode of “Sex and the City,” Miranda has an epiphany: A guy may “just not be that into” her.
Miranda was thrilled with this revelation. She can now stop being anxiety-ridden over a man’s mixed messages. She can now shrug and say, “Well, he’s just not that into me,” and move on. Women everywhere sighed with relief … or did we? Keep reading »
My boyfriend and I lay in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by all of his favorite stuff from high school. We were almost 30.
“I don’t feel the same way about you as you do about me,” he said.
I rolled over and started to cry silently while staring at his trophy collection. This was our third disagreement in six months as a couple. Keep reading »