After almost six years, a wedding, and a house, there aren’t a whole lot of “firsts” left for my husband and me. In a few weeks, we’re adopting our first pet. When we have some spare money, I hope someday we can take our first trip to Europe. Maybe one day we’ll have our first child. But in the meantime, one of those rare “firsts” is coming up, and it’s our first Christmas as a married couple. It also happens to be the first Christmas I’ll spend away from home. Keep reading »
“Sean recorded private webcam conversations with his girlfriend and put them on his blog. When she finds out, things go from bad to worse.” I’m not going to spoil “Dumped” by saying too much about it, but suffice to say it’s about a guy who gets dumped, and it has a surprising twist. Thanks to Kasia at Current for sending it. Keep reading »
Dear Ladies: Before you don’t return my call, allow me to explain something: I am a rebel. Keep reading »
You thought you had it all figured out. Marry a rich guy, you’ll never have to work, and you can spend the rest of your life shopping. Unfortunately, the global recession has thrown a wrench into your well-crafted plans. Now that sugar daddy bank accounts are shrinking, trophy wives are discovering they may be s*** out of luck when it comes to living the good life. In the UK, a trophy wife named “Katie” finds out she’s going to have to cut back on her mani-pedis and seaweed wraps — not to mention having her black AmEx snipped in half. “You loser!” she screams at her husband. “You’ve destroyed my life!” Trophy wives are becoming “Toxic Wives,” as their love for their significant others dwindles in tandem with their hubbies’ bank balances. Divorce rates are rising, and “for richer, for poorer” no longer applies. One wealthy husband turned to his wife in the middle of the night and asked her if she’d love him if he lost everything. Her reply? “F— no!” As it turns out, most toxic trophy wives aren’t leaving their husbands to join the work force. They’re looking for new rich men to replace the newly poor ones. [Telegraph] Keep reading »
There was one point during my wedding-planning process that I was afraid I was losing my mind and becoming what I feared and hated most — the bridezilla. Keep reading »
Not long ago, I met a guy that reminded me of that sexy NPR storyteller Ira Glass. Instantly, I fell in nerd-love with this doppelganger. After dating for a while, though, we realized we had only one thing in common: sex. So we decided to be friends with benefits. According to a Michigan State University study, sixty-percent of college co-eds have been involved in an FWB relationship, and plenty of my thirty-something girlfriends were doing it to stay satisfied, so I figured I’d give the laid back, no-romantic-attachments approach to getting laid a whirl. A year later, faux-Ira and I still hang out and hump. After our most recent rendezvous last weekend, I began to wonder what I’m doing. What are the real benefits to friends with benefits? Sure, now I have an in-case-of-sexual-emergency-hit-Glass-lookalike. At the same time, I’ve started to realize my situation is causing me to question the meaning of friendship, challenging my chances at romances, and wobbling my emotional stability. Keep reading »
Earlier this week, we found out that President-elect Barack Obama and Michelle Obama shared their first kiss over Baskin-Robbins ice cream and he actually asked permission before leaning in. This got me thinking about my past first kisses. Like Barack (yeah, we’re on a first name basis.), my current boyfriend asked permission before he kissed me. It was our third date and I thought, “Can’t he pick up the signals that I’m dying to kiss him?” Heck, I was ready to kiss him on the first date, but he was a gentleman and waited an appropriate amount of time before things got physical. What do YOU think about asking permission before a first kiss? Keep reading »
Last week, I gave the thumbs-up to a piece I had read on Dumb Little Man that advised would-be-lovers to make people love them by making them take care of them. I’ve changed my mind. Sure, it sounds nice in a fairy tale, when this advice may have made sense, but it’s 2008! So I said, “…the exhausting trials of getting a man to love you warrants the easy use of a little Psych 101″ but then I realized that relying on a man for help, and him relying on you to want help from him is vaguely “co-dependent”.
Every time a girl goes bossing her boyfriend around, coddling him into helping her when she’s perfectly capable herself, Elizabeth Cady Stanton rolls around in her grave. So, if you want a dog, go to the pound, don’t make your boyfriend your bitch. Being a damsel in distress is lame and transparent and in the end, being that kind of girl only makes you and your man look bad, feel bad, and act bad(ly). We ladies have ourselves and that is all we were given because that’s all we need to get by. Start realizing all the things you’ve gotten done right by relying on yourself and you’ll attract the right kind of man naturally. And when he finds you, open a pickle jar for him instead! Keep reading »
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