Some women shy away from divorced guys, but I’m grateful my new boyfriend is divorced—or at least, on the way there (he is at the end of the process, in the final stages of paperwork). This is not a situation where someone says they’re getting divorced but is really just having an affair. They’ve been living apart for two years, and I would barely know he’s divorced except that it came up on our first date, one that neither of us knew was a date until the end. “Never get married,” he told me half-jokingly as he described the saga of the paperwork, and I smiled, because I have no plans to. When we started dating more seriously, I realized pretty quickly that I had nothing to feel threatened about, and that in fact, I was reaping the benefits of his divorce. Keep reading »
I’m not an addict, and I’m not an alcoholic. But as offensive as this may sound, I sometimes I wish I were, if only so I could have a language and a community to help me deal with what often seem like out of control urges—a structure surrounding me to help me cope with, well, life. But there are no 12-step meetings for people who simply have trouble getting up every day, who feel hollow and weak and unworthy, but who don’t gloss over those feelings with a single, predictable vice. Over the course of my life, I’ve certainly used alcohol, sex, shopping and food to help quell those feelings, and they’ve each worked, in limited doses, but eventually their effects wore off.
The thing is, though, my rock bottom moments don’t revolve around alcohol, though I’ve consumed my share, or drugs (I’ve attempted to smoke pot twice, and basically failed each time); sometimes it’s food, sometimes it’s sex, sometimes it’s shopping, but I fundamentally believe that the core part of me that hates myself in those moments when I’m eating an entire box of cereal, screwing someone I’m not that into, or buying a pair of shoes I don’t need and can’t afford, is the same impulse that drove, say, my father or grandfather to drink (both are recovering alcoholics). 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 »
The other night, I was wading through all the junk scattered around my apartment, starting to panic because I couldn’t find a book I needed to review. I threw out bag after bag of garbage and finally decided to get some dinner, my version of which was a prepackaged frozen entree of organic tofu, vegetables and brown rice, plus a bottle of soy sauce. Keep reading »
I’ve already told you why guys who don’t want head are a dealbreaker for me, but what about guys who just aren’t into sex? Yes, they exist. Anyone who tells you otherwise — that all men are 24/7 sex fiends — is either lying or has just been lucky enough not to meet the kind of guy I’m talking about: the sexless guy.
I’ve dated several guys who, from what I can tell, have a take it or leave it attitude toward sex, with an emphasis on leaving it. Why, you may ask, did I, someone who writes about sex almost every day, wind up with them? I don’t really know, but I did. And the worst part about it is not the physical withdrawal; I’m not the kind of girl who needs to do it every day (though that would be nice). Keep reading »
Since my breakup, I’ve not only been navigating single life, but I’ve been trying to figure out what kind of relationship to have with my ex. Are we friends? Acquaintances? Simply exes? Potential friends with benefits? It’s hard to say, and I vacillate between these possibilities. I’m grateful that ours was a long distance relationship, so I don’t have to worry about running into him at a club or the grocery store. At the same time, I’ll be honest — I miss him. Our once-daily talks and emails have dwindled to once or twice a week … but that doesn’t mean I don’t think of him more often than that. Keep reading »