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 »
God help me for admitting this: I don’t like my brother’s fiancée. Phew. It feels so freeing to write these words. I can’t even bring myself to call her my future sister-in-law. It makes my skin itch. I would love to be able to give you a concrete reason for being irked by her. Like she kicks small dogs or steals subway seats from old ladies or physically abuses my little brother. None of the above. Keep reading »
For nearly two years I was with the man I thought I was going to marry, have children with and spend the rest of my life with. I loved him so all-consumingly that I worried about his death. Driving on highways or flying on airplanes, it didn’t matter; I just thought of what risks it posed to him and how terribly in pain I would feel if he were ever to be gone from my life. Even though I felt a bit silly worrying about him, I couldn’t help myself. We used to say we were half of each other. He would say to me that he couldn’t wait to grow old with me. We were intimately close and open with each other in a way I’ve never been before and in a way I know I won’t find easily again.
He broke up with me after New Year’s suddenly and without warning. Now, I marvel at how quickly it’s taken me to fall out of love with him. How very, very odd it is to look inside myself to see if there’s any little bit that still loves him after what he’s done to me. Keep reading »
After much thought and Advil, I have decided I am going on a sex/dating and drinking sabbatical. I went on a six-month sex sabbatical after my breakup from my fiance a few years ago — or, rather, I announced I was going on a six-month sex sabbatical and then it lasted for, I think, around two. It wasn’t a complete failure, in other words. Hilariously, I went on a sex sabbatical because all of my efforts to get laid were being thwarted and I figured I might as well decide to NOT have sex with a purpose.
Meanwhile, I have never taken a significant break from drinking. I didn’t start drinking until I was in college — I believe most people start in high school, so I was a late bloomer in more ways than one — and I remember the night I got drunk the first time as well as you can possibly remember a hazy night 13 years ago. The amount and frequency of my drinking has gone up and down over the years, but I generally consider myself to be a responsible boozer. I don’t drink and drive (easy when you don’t have a car!), I don’t say things I don’t mean, and, for the most part, I don’t do things I actually regret. Keep reading »