Every second of every day, some couple somewhere is fighting about something either completely ridiculous, semi ridiculous or actually kind of legitimate, and someone’s always going to walk away the victor of the argument. It has been said that you can tell a lot about a person’s character by the way they fight whether they’re a screamer, a crier, stubborn or submissive. Aw, the wonderful world of arguing. Keep reading »
I made decision when I was a young adult on the kind of regrets I’d try to have: I want to regret only the things I did do, not the things I didn’t. So far it’s worked out just as I’ve hoped. I have never had to look back and wish I had fallen deeply in love, or traveled around Europe when I was young, or quit a steady job to freelance write fulltime, because I’ve done all of those things. I’m proud that I have very few regrets about things in my life I have done — very, very few, like, I’m struggling to think of examples now. But as each month brings more and more distance between myself and a devastating heartbreak I suffered with the guy I wanted to spend my life with, one regret is becoming pronounced. I look back now and I’m not proud of all the small compromises that I made for him without, I think, getting as much as I should have in return. Keep reading »
I read Eliza Jules’ essay “I Obsessively Monitor My Husband’s Lube Bottle” over at xoJane and was left with this question: Is a partner’s masturbation something we should worry about? The more I’ve thought about it, though, the more I’ve concluded that, for me, I’m at the very opposite end of the spectrum as Jules; I’d be worried if someone I was dating didn’t masturbate, all the more so if I was the cause behind them holding off in the self-love department. I also wouldn’t expect someone’s firmly entrenched patterns of masturbation and porn use, especially if I met them well into their adult life, to change just because they were with me.
I’ll even go so far as to say I would definitely not want to be the sole source of my partner’s masturbation fodder. Part of it? Sure. But imagine the pressure if every single time they jerked off, they were thinking about you. That would creep me out a bit, and while I’m not an expert, I don’t think that’s a realistic goal, especially when you’re talking about long-term relationships. Keep reading »
It was over a year ago, last January, when my boyfriend of almost four years said, “So I have something to tell you” over a Friday night dinner in Chinatown. My appetite instantly evaporated and my stomach suddenly ached with anticipation over what would follow those words. Immediately I thought, This is the break-up dinner, and my mind whirled into a frenzy of what could be wrong when I thought we were so happy. We caught a cab and went back to his Brooklyn apartment, quickly saying hi to his roommates and disappearing into his room to talk.
Sitting on his bed, I prepared myself for the worst. Did he cheat on me? Did he lose his job? Just looking at him, I couldn’t tell. He wasn’t mad, but he wasn’t happy either. He’s usually calm, but at that moment he was nervous.
“So, I’m moving to Hong Kong for work,” was the next thing I heard. Keep reading »
I had just started calling J. my boyfriend when he asked me to move in – rather, told me I was moving in. He had posted my apartment on Craig’s List “just to gauge the response” and within an hour received six. At work when he delivered the news, I kind of freaked. I like my independence. I like my space. And when it comes to fight or flight syndrome, I’m like the Road Runner – Beep, Beep, Zroooooommm, I’m gone! Keep reading »