Yesterday I was idly reading the comments on one of my posts on The Frisky when a partner link caught my eye: “7 Things You Shouldn’t Tell Your Boyfriend.” Shouldn’t tell your boyfriend? I thought. I always told my boyfriend everything. Like, EVERYTHING. He knew about my bouts with depression. He knew about my brother’s struggles with drug addiction and alcoholism. He knew about how much I owe in student loans. He knew about my spanking fetish. He knew about my desire for dominant/submissive sex. He knew about the May-December romance I had with a 37-year-old man when I was 22. He knew when I farted and burped and had the flu. He knew what I looked like in sweatpants, in no makeup, and in sweatpants and no makeup. During the two years that we dated, he was my best friend Why wouldn’t he know these things?
Then a light went off in my head. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Amelia. “Do you think the reason our relationships didn’t work out is because our partners were our best friends first, instead of our lovers?” I asked. “Do you think we didn’t keep the romance alive?” Keep reading »
“Do you love her?” I finally asked my ex in the midst of our screaming match last late night. He paused for a minute. I could hear him breathing deeply over the phone line, slow and steady—he could have been at a yoga studio, contorted and wearing orange spandex, or practicing Lamaze breathing for the birth of his first child. Instead, he was verbally (and angrily) tracing the end of our relationship. The truth of his new relationship had been so obscured in various manipulations, that despite approaching a year of us not dating I really had no idea where “they” were.
“Yes,” he said, and my heart grew very still. Somewhere after he listed the third or fourth reason why she was better than me, I interrupted, “Stop. Just. Stop. I can’t do this with you anymore.” I hung up the phone, curled up in bed, and went to sleep. Keep reading »
It was insanely beautiful. A round diamond in the middle, surrounded by a ring of tiny diamonds, set in platinum. It was custom-designed, but looked vintage. I had never thought much about diamonds — in fact, all of my jewelry, save the pair of diamond studs he had gifted me a couple years before, was from Forever 21 — but it was as if my boyfriend of four years knew exactly what kind of ring I would want when he proposed. I must have said, “Oh my god” 100 times. I wore the ring with love and pride up until we broke up nine-and-a-half months later. Keep reading »
My freshman year of college, I went on a date with a guy to a fancy restaurant in Manhattan. It was the kind of place with a white tablecloth, where a busboy scraped the crumbs off the table with a comb once your plates were removed and the maitre’d pulled out women’s chairs for them. That’s where I made my big statement: the maitre’d pulled out a chair for me and I walked around to the other chair, pulled it out for myself and sat down. I wasn’t just being rude; I thought I was making a point about how I — and by extension all women — didn’t need to be treated with chivalry. Keep reading »
One of the defining tensions in my life has always been reconciling my feminist political beliefs, my desire for a respectful and egalitarian relationship, and my attraction to more traditional alpha males. I passionately believe in women’s equality, in reproductive rights, and in equal pay for equal work. And I want to be in a loving, intimate, balanced relationship where everyone makes a contribution, whatever that might be. So why do those things seem so hard to reconcile with my desire to feel looked after and taken care of? Keep reading »
Of all the aspects that were difficult about my recent breakup from my boyfriend of two years, the hardest was moving out of the apartment that we shared together. You can verbally say all kinds of things: we’re broken up, we’re on a break, we’re seeing other people, whatever. Those words might change from day to day. But pulling your sundresses off the closet hangers feels final. Same goes for taking your face wash out of the shower. I built a life, a relationship, with someone and then all of a sudden, it was just my things in an apartment that was now his. Keep reading »