The two of you are inseparable. You’re every romantic comedy cliché come to life. He’s the cream in your coffee. The Jim to your Pam—not that you even remember who they are, because with all the lovemaking, you hardly have time to waste on sitcoms like “The Office.”
When you’re not busy rutting, you spend hours just staring at each other, marveling at your good fortune. Everything reminds you of him and you can’t stop talking about how fantastically happy you are. In fact, you’re so busy, you probably haven’t even noticed that, except for calls from your shmoopie, your phone has stopped ringing. (Unless it’s your mom calling to wonder if you’re finally going to squeeze out some grandchildren for her.)
But your friends? They seem to have disappeared. In the haze of your love drunkenness, you might believe this is because they’re jealous. But more likely it’s because you’ve become one of the “smug marrieds” from Bridget Jones’ Diary—a book I loathed, but she sure got that part right. And you’re not even married. Yet. Keep reading »
Texting has become as ubiquitous as the cell phones that birthed them, but what is it doing to our love lives? Can you imagine what a different movie “Casablanca” would be if, instead of suavely growling, “Here’s looking at you, kid,” Rick instead texted Ilsa:
; – )
Same sentiment (sort of), yet all the romance, sexiness and possibility has been drained out of it. Keep reading »
A gaggle of girlfriends and I were sitting around drinking beer and bitching about our crappy love lives one late night when my buddy Marguerite shared something a wise relative had once told her: “The three most dangerous words a woman can say are ‘He has potential.’” Maybe I’m not very bright, but that stopped me in my tracks. How many times had I overlooked the bouquet of red flags a guy had been holding in front of his face and, instead of seeing the actual person, saw what he might turn into? The answer is too many. Keep reading »
I once dated a guy who clothed himself almost exclusively in band t-shirts, pleated trousers, and an ever-present fanny pack. (And no, he wasn’t a German tourist.) I remember thinking when we met that I’d finally cast eyes upon the archetypal rock critic. That he actually was a rock critic made the experience all the richer. Because he was smart, funny and cute-ish, I chose to overlook his sartorial missteps and we quickly fell in love. But despite my best efforts—including renaming the fanny pack his “colostomy bag”—I never could convince him to spiff up. Keep reading »
OK, first of all, let me make it clear that I don’t believe in the concept of “the one.” I think each of us has more like the “top 40” or even “winning 100,” depending on how much ground you cover. But even in a world brimming with possibilities, at some point in our lives most of us have found ourselves infatuated with a guy who was just completely wrong for us. Not that he was necessarily a bad guy—he was just a dude we should’ve relegated to fling territory instead of fooling ourselves into thinking had long-term potential.
Here are a few factors that may give you a case of the stupids… Keep reading »
Last weekend at a party, I noticed a toad-like man attaching himself to a beautiful, talented friend of mine. Not only was she way out of his league, looks-wise, but as I eavesdropped I discovered he was one of those dudes who delivers endless monologues instead of engaging in actual conversations.
Ladies, I think we’ve all been stuck with that guy. This time it was my friend’s turn. Keep reading »