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.
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I like to think that I’m reasonably independent. I’m a modern woman, following in the charming footsteps of Mary Tyler Moore (I even have a little beret, but I don’t throw it up in the air, because I’m afraid I’d lose it). I like my work tremendously. As a result, I’m inclined to regard myself as fairly different from Melissa Beech, who recently wrote on The Daily Beast about her sugar daddy who “pays for a killer wardrobe,” as well as her apartment, and about $5,000 worth of expenses per month. As readers decried her for being “a prostitute,” “selfish,” and “classless,” I congratulated myself on working for a living and not having to rely on an older man to cover all my expenses. Keep reading »
Usually, a daughter’s interaction with her father is her first male/female relationship. It’s how she learns to see herself as a young woman; it’s how she determines if she’s accepted, valued, and respected. Whether you have a positive relationship with your father or the two of you are barely on speaking terms, he has the power to ruin your relationships with men. If a woman had an emotionally and physically absent father when she was growing up, she may be more likely to have difficulty making productive and lasting relationships with men as an adult. But even if your father was your biggest champion and showed you his love and nurtured you, he can still ruin your future with men — if you let him. Keep reading »
My friend Gloria flirts with everyone — even her cat. Seriously. Almost every time I see her she’s cozying up to someone new, even though she isn’t a perpetual dater and doesn’t sleep around. At my birthday dinner a few weeks ago, she asked my friend Sira if he wanted to lick some buttercream frosting off her chest. He busted out his cell phone and said, “Have you seen my boyfriend?” But it didn’t matter to her that he’s gay; she was flirting for the sake of flirting. Keep reading »
2006 was a year of unprotected sex for me. No, not every time, but I started off the year with a fling with a slightly older man I was besotted with, who didn’t speak a word about condoms, and, in response, I didn’t either. I wanted to trust that he had some magical knowledge that somehow I was missing, that maybe the world had overturned itself and they were no longer necessary. I was wrong, and after a pregnancy panic as I searched for Plan B — this was right before it was so readily available — I escaped unscathed. Then later that year I met a guy I fell absolutely head over heels with, sure that we were destined to be together. Keep reading »