I met Elliot* at a restaurant. I was sitting at a table having dinner with a friend when I saw him sipping a bourbon at the bar. My palms got a little clammy, my jaw dropped slightly, and I may have even audibly gasped. “Hottest. Dude. Ever,” I announced to my friend. My mouth started to salivate. He was dreamy.
“Where?” my friend asked.
“There. At the bar,” I said. “The one with the facial hair and the scarf around his neck. The one who is obviously the sexiest guy this place has ever seen.” He was good-looking in the way that would make even the most poised woman act like a horny teenage boy, stopping to do a double and triple take and choke back a catcall. Keep reading »
When I was 18 years old, I wanted to get my then-boyfriend’s initials tattooed across my hand. I needed the world to know that we were madly in love (which, of course, we weren’t) and this was going to be the man (which, of course, he wasn’t) that I’d spend the rest of my life with (which, thank God, I didn’t).
Instead, I chose to get a tasteful fire-breathing dragon inked on my lower back. Keep reading »
I always thought “settling down” was a euphemism. It meant nesting and discovering the pleasures of Saturday nights on the couch, cuddling in sweatpants. And it does mean that a little bit. But in my case, “settling down” has meant literally calming down. The parts of me that were more spontaneous and manic, quick to respond and engage and react, relaxed. I saw how my boyfriend Mark carried himself differently than I did and I thought he carried himself well. My first thoughts were always to fight and engage. But when it came to action, I didn’t feel like I needed to do that anymore. I learned to hold my tongue.
But there’s one thing I haven’t learned to do, as settled down as I am. I still want to flirt. Keep reading »
Click here for the full image.
This map of non-monogamy makes me understand why so many people subscribe to monogamy
… it’s way less complicated. I am going to go study for my non-monogamy pop quiz now. Dan Savage
would be proud of me. [Tacit
] Keep reading »
You know the saying, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
But when does a casual series of drinks and meeting up at parties become a deeper entanglement of feelings, fascinating discussions about the origin of childhood scars and trips to the grocery store for toilet paper and dish detergent? To use the parlance of our times, when does a hook-up evolve into a relationship? Read more … Keep reading »
When a man gets into a relationship, he’s usually the last to know.
Women fall in love, men slip on it. Women gently twirl down the rabbit hole of love like whirligigs, landing on their feet in a land of wonder. But for men, love is a sudden minor concussion. One moment, we’re strolling down the street like a Pharoah in no hurry, snapping our fingers, whistling a jaunty tune. Maybe we’re leaving the apartment of a recent conquest early in the morning. Women call this the “Walk of Shame.” But to the male species, it’s called the “I Just Got Laid Parade.” Or maybe we’re just walking over to the beer store, smugly satisfied with ourselves for not immediately texting some chick back. Because no one owns the male spirit – it’s like a bacon-scented wind. We’re wild game you can’t tame, oh yeah. Then an ambush of unwanted emotions happens. Love is a banana peel. We wake up on our backs with a throbbing skull, swatting away clouds of mosquito-sized hearts buzzing around.
At least women look before they leap. Keep reading »