Would a guy date a woman with a disability?
That’s not the sort of question guys are expecting to hear amidst the typical flurry of getting-to-know-you questions. But it’s nonetheless an important – even critical – one for me. It’s at the top of my list, actually. It’s a question I’ve been asking myself since high school when my peers so easily began to couple-off, and I watched from the sidelines. It all seemed so natural and effortless for them, yet I couldn’t help but feel as though the Dating Gods had forgotten to “cc” me on their Dating 101 memo. I’m sure the memo talked about the basics: courting, flirting, maybe even some tips for hiding those tiny flaws and insecurities on the first date.
But what about those not-so-tiny flaws? What about those insecurities you can’t simply hide with a cute jacket or a thick layer of Maybelline foundation? Keep reading »
Since I got engaged early last month and began planning a wedding for this summer, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be hitched. As someone who already lives with her husband-to-be, I wonder just how much marriage will actually change things, whether I’ll wake up the morning after the wedding feeling any different. I’ve also been thinking a lot about what kind of wife I want to be, what it means to be a “good” wife, and how — if at all — being a “good wife” could compromise my identity or personal needs and interests.
I don’t feel a pressing desire to “prove” to myself or anyone else that I won’t change, that I won’t compromise anything, because at some point I’m sure I will. (Isn’t compromise a big part marriage, after all?) But I’m also certain that while bits of my identity are bound to shift, just as I would expect them to with any big life change and new perspective, the core of who I am will remain the same. No new name, white dress, ring on my finger or any other traditional convention is going to change that. For better or worse, I am who I am and I’m pretty solid in my identity. So when I read a column in the Guardian recently by Abigail Gliddon, a woman who claims “when a woman takes her husband’s name, she surrenders her former identity and adopts his,” I wondered how she came to have such low expectations for other women. Keep reading »
To cut or not to cut an ex from your life after a breakup, that is the question. Just last week, a dear friend of mine had her divorce finalized after a long, drawn-out three year separation. Upon hearing that her now ex-husband wants to cut off all communication with her for the foreseeable future, she’s distraught. Over the course of their separation, they’d managed to remain quite friendly, keeping in touch with phone calls and texts, and even meeting up for occasional dinners out and seeing bands together they both loved. But now that the divorce is finalized, her ex says he needs time to process the ending of their marriage and to really close that chapter and move on. She’s devastated that she won’t have him in her life the way she has in the last few years and thinks he’s being unreasonable and even a little mean. I, on the other hand, think he’s doing what’s best for them both and that a little space will give them the kind of closure they probably could have benefited from years ago. Keep reading »
When I was in college I bought my first car. The first car I actually owned was a hand-me-down from my parents (a 1988 Nissan Stanza to be exact, not exactly a pimp ride), but its life ended my senior year and I needed a replacement. At the time I was in a bit of an extended fight with my dad and we weren’t speaking at all. So when it came time to buy my car, I had to rely on my limited knowledge of automobiles in order to get the best deal on a used car that would see me through graduation. Normally, this was a task that I would have heaped on my dad’s shoulders; after all, Dads are the people you turn to in times of vehicular crisis. Mine wasn’t there, so I went alone. What did I end up with? A 1993 Volkswagen Jetta. With 250,000 miles already on it. But it was teal! And the guy who sold it to me was 18 and tan!
Needless to say, it was one of the more traditionally “girly” decisions of my life and I paid for it. The car had major clutch problems within months and just BARELY made it through the year. When it came to buying a car, I needed a man’s help. As sexist and as backwards as that may sound, I need one now too. Keep reading »
My first gray hairs were cause for celebration. My mother, politically liberal, but parentally strict, had forbidden me from coloring my hair “until you start going gray.” So when, at 14, I was able to show her a few silver hairs buried in my thick black mop, I was overjoyed. And, God bless her, she took me straight to the store for the box of burgundy dye that was the obsession of adolescent girls (thanks to Angela on “My So Called Life” of course). By the end of high school, I had grown out a Bonnie Raitt-like gray streak on one side. Keep reading »
Okay, real talk. This isn’t exactly the happy-ending story I’d like it to be, but I’ve got to share with you the details of my recent fantasy crush cum real mini-relationship, if only to encourage everyone to buck up and make some moves in the new year.
Have you ever seen a guy working in a store you frequent, and developed a massive crush on him? Er…I have! For the past eight months, I’ve been completely smitten with a guy who works at my local bookstore. I’ll admit the crush had become a bit extreme; I’d spent over a hundred bucks on books and befriended the entire security staff in an effort to work up the nerve to talk to this dude. Why? Because he was, hands-down, the hottest guy I’d ever seen. Also, anytime we’d spoken, (i.e. “Did you find everything, okay?”) I thought it was obvious that we’d have a real connection. Clearly, things were getting serious. I’d even started setting aside Chris Brown during my sexytime fantasies, and thinking of bookstore boy. So, eight months after the inception of the mega-crush, I introduced myself. Keep reading »
Look, I like being in a relationship, I really do. I especially love being in a live-in relationship. I like that my boyfriend and I cook dinner together, how Sunday mornings are never lonely, and I’ve always got a travel partner and someone to see movies with. More than just being in a relationship, I love the person I’m in a relationship with. My boyfriend’s one of the kindest, funniest, most generous people I know, and I have more fun with him than anyone else. Yet, I can’t stop fantasizing about other men. Keep reading »
I’m at my parents’ place this week, visiting my family for Christmas. Shortly after I arrived, my mother presented me with an engagement ring. The ring belonged to my great-grandmother, who got married 80 years ago in the fall of 1928. This past summer, when I last saw my mom, I told her my boyfriend and I were talking marriage, and I asked if she could get the ring out of the safety deposit box so I could try it on at Christmas. Eager to see me married ASAP, she was more than happy to comply. Keep reading »
My new favorite show is called “Gavin & Stacey.” It’s a British show on the BBC about a cute guy named Gavin and a cute girl named Stacey who work and live in Essex and Wales, respectively. They meet when they’re forced to talk to one another on the phone for work. Finally, after six months of pining, they agree to meet in person. After much nervousness and baited breath and pacing and primping, they discover they’re totally and completely in love and live happily ever after, with only a few hiccups because of their neurotic but hilarious families and friends. Gavin and Stacey heart each other. Keep reading »
Emotional cripples. Religious zealots. Man-babies. My recent dating roster could serve as a police lineup of degenerates, liars, and serious letdowns. Naturally, I’m hypersensitive to red flags these days. So when a guy I’m interested in tells me that he’s a “bisexual,” shouldn’t I run? Perhaps. But once I got the initial panic out of the way (OK, I called my friend and frantically yelled, “911! 911!”), I let his confession marinate. Then I decided I’m not going anywhere. Or, if I do, it’ll have nothing to do with his half-gayness.
Keep reading »