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 »
Sunday morning, at 2:30 a.m., I was jostled from my deep slumber by the obnoxious trill of my cellphone alerting me to a new text message. I knew it had to be one of two people. Anyone else who would text at such a late hour would be being rude, but a booty call is just playing by the rules.
I didn’t get the little rush I usually feel when I realize someone wants to come over to bang me in the middle of the night. I didn’t even really feel flattered. I glanced at my phone to double check — yep, Likely Candidate #1, the 28-year-old who was probably hoping for a good luck f**k on behalf of the Jets before that evening’s championship game. I clicked my phone to silent and got back underneath the covers. Not interested. This was kind of a big deal, as two weeks ago — before I began my sex/dating/drinking sabbatical — I would have texted him back in the affirmative and spent the 15 minutes before he arrived ensuring I didn’t have bad breath and that my armpits were shaved. Keep reading »
At the end of last year, I was in Los Angeles for a TV appearance that required me to be dressed up and in full makeup. That ended in the early afternoon, and I walked around downtown all glammed up, excited to have the rest of the day free. A guy complimented me, and I started talking, then flirting with him. He was cute and seemed smart, and I felt like I was already very far from my daily New York life, so I flirted back. And because it was 2010, that flirting soon took to our phones as we traded numbers, and then I started following him on Twitter, and he did the same to me. Keep reading »
“These are the things I’m addicted to: bronzer, boys, and alcohol.”
That’s a quote from Snooki of “Jersey Shore” fame, but it could just as easily be something I said. Last night’s episode actually, gulp, struck a cord with me. In Snooki, I saw myself. A shorter, drunker, less well-read version of myself, but still. Snooki, like me, is searching for love and sometimes drinks to excess to mask the insecurities she has about not finding it. Keep reading »
You can tell a lot about what’s going on in a woman’s life based on the conversations she has with herself when she looks in a mirror. Sitting in a church or temple pew, or lying awake in bed at night, might be when she does the most deep thinking. But what goes through her head while she glances in the mirror brushing her teeth or washing her hands in the bathroom at work — those are the moments she talks to herself about what she sees. Interacting with her appearance, she’s either a friend or an enemy. Keep reading »
While Amelia is beginning her dating sabbatical, I am just putting mine to bed. Well, bed may not be the right word. Last August, I too threw in the towel, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made. Keep reading »