Tag Archives: monogamy

The Monogamist: Retaining Your Individuality When You’re Part Of A “We”

Last month, I showed up at a party that my hubby, Andy, and I had been invited to, and I was greeted with silence. Now, I know I’m not that unpopular, so something had to be wrong. As I shrugged off my coat and people got back to mingling, my friend approached with a vodka tonic in hand. Passing it to me and trying to sound casual, she said, “So…where’s Andy tonight?” And then, in a stage whisper, “Is anything wrong?” Keep reading »

Against Cheating: A Man’s Perspective

I’m single, 40, and have dated more than any good man should. Add to that the fact that I love women, I love seducing, and my ego is clearly invested in the power it gives me, and something tells me I’m not the man you’d think would advocate devotion and fidelity. But the truth is, I’m a closet monogamist. It doesn’t come easily, it might not even come naturally, but at the end of the day, I think monogamy is a majesty worth fighting for. Many of the reasons are obvious—the comfort, having a good-guy reputation, the regular and maybe even condom-free sex — but there are some that might surprise you. Keep reading »

Are Creative Types Just Good For Flings?

Are “creative types” good for anything other than flings? “I am always attracted to creative men,” one woman writes the Guardian. “Most of my boyfriends have been poets or artists, largely because of my job and circle of friends. But my last two boyfriends were unfaithful and I wonder if creative types are good only for flings and if I’d be better off with a man who has a proper job.” Relationship expert Dr. Luisa Dillner responds: “Creative people may be less inclined to monogamy because it’s conventional, their talent may make them attractive and interesting (they have something special) and they may be supremely self-confident. Creativity suggests a passionate nature; these men may be more charismatic than your average guy. Since creative people often hang out together, they may reinforce the idea that it’s OK to have sex on the side.” Instead, she advises the woman find a “nice steady Italian policeman” — because women like men in uniform. So, what do you think? Do creative types make good boyfriends, or are they better for flings? [Guardian.co.uk] Keep reading »

The Breakup Diaries: My Six-Month Sex Sabbatical

My breakup is…hold on, checking the calendar…almost three-months-old. Which means my hoo-ha has about three months worth of dust gathering inside it. About, oh, three weeks ago, I reached the point in the breakup evolution where I felt a sudden aching urge to have sex. With someone. Anyone even, after a few glasses of wine. But apparently, my dusty vag also has a layer of penis repellent, because my attempts at getting laid have been thwarted not once, not twice, but three times. Not to toot my own horn, seriously, but I’m mildly attractive so it’s kind of bewildered me that getting some sweet action is so difficult. Keep reading »

The Monogamist: When To Reveal Your Crazy Side

A friend call me the other day. She was struggling to figure out what was going on with her relationship of a month. He’d do sweet things, like post photos of the two of them on Facebook. Then he’d write curt responses to her e-mails. Normally, she’s extremely self-confident, self-assured, and successful in life. It was disheartening to see her brought down by the unknown of it all.
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The Monogamist: What Marriage Feels Like

Well, I did it. A couple of weeks ago, I tied the knot. Got hitched. Became a ball and chain. And got my own ball and chain? People make it sound so weighty. When we got engaged, it did feel huge, like this gigantic life-altering decision that was so…permanent. And it is. I’m not saying it’s not. But you know what? It feels exactly the same as it did before. Yes, it’s still weird to refer to Andy as my husband, rather than boyfriend (never fiancé), and when I called our car insurance to tell them we’d gotten married, they sent us a $13.14 rebate check, which will buy us about four gallons of gas or a week’s worth of coffee, depending on our mood. Keep reading »

Crushes As Foreplay

Confession: I’m having a secret affair with my 21-year old Irish doorman. It’s such a secret, not even HE knows. The other night, when my fiancé was out, my doorman – I don’t even know his name – came upstairs to my apartment to replace three light bulbs. As he stood on the ladder, screwing in those bulbs, telling me all about going to school in Dublin and spending the summer in New York, I felt enormously guilty. My fiancé wasn’t home and this attractive, foreign, younger man was doing menial labor in my apartment, steps away from my bedroom. It felt kind of like cheating, even though it was far from it in actuality, and cheating in actuality is something I would never, ever, ever do. Keep reading »

Frisky Chatter: Dish From The Frisky Forums

We won’t be around this weekend (national holiday on Monday and all), so why don’t you talk amongst yourself in the forums? That is, if you’re not on your way somewhere fabulous. Me? I’ll be at home eating ice cream. Keep reading »

If You Never Promise To Be Monogamous, You’ll Never HAVE To Cheat

I’m on vacation in the Outer Banks of North Carolina this week and that’s why I am really pissed at New York magazine for making their cover story in the newest issue be about something as enraging to me as men who cheat. Particularly men who cheat and BOO HOO don’t we feel sorry for them, because I just had to step away from the 1,000 piece puzzle I was working on to go off on a little rant about this topic when I should be meditating to the sounds of the ocean. Unfortunately, this piece, titled “What Makes Married Men Want To Have Affairs?” was so friggin’ annoying and depressing that I couldn’t help myself. Keep reading »

The Monogamist: Blind Trust Isn’t A Bad Thing

It wasn’t until I’d had my man have sex with my roommate in my bed that I really understand how trust can be broken in a relationship. That was the first moment in my life that I’d ever had a total out-of-body experience. Along with it came the realization that I had no idea what had been happening practically right in front of me. The strangest part of the whole thing, surprisingly, wasn’t feeling that my heart had been ripped out, but rather that it was my stomach that was being ripped out, taking my heart, my throat, my head and everything else with it. Though I handled the situation the only way I knew how—a cathartic gut reaction of some crying (but mostly lots and lots of screaming), when I was done with that, the only thing I was left with was: What the hell happens now? Keep reading »

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