Can a life or a relationship be boiled down to a pithy one liner? Could any of your past relationships be characterized in this way? And if so, who decides in retrospect? Does it boil down to choice or interpretation, or both…
If you’re a dater, or in a newish relationship, the holiday social circuit poses a certain dilemma: To bring the new guy/gal or not to bring. Should you bring a plus one who isn’t your regular squeeze or committed partner to “your” holiday events?…
Bridget Jones met her Mark at a Christmas party. Wearing that hideous “jumper” and all. She was a hot mess, yet he and she found themselves intrigued/compelled and, well… the rest is fictional history. Is this a universal love fantasy? That you’ll meet your one true love over a turkey carcass or passing a platter of latkes?
Last week a good friend of mine went on a third date with a lady, with which he was quite smitten. Due to unforeseen traffic he was 15 minutes late. He made it to her front step and was about to knock when she swung open the door and exclaimed, “You’re late—you didn’t have second thoughts about coming, did you?” Killer Point 1…
Don’t worry, this is not a bait-and-switch headline. I’m going to tell you what women really want. And men too, while we’re at it. I’m writing on behalf of a matchmaking company, after all. Lean in. What women (and men) really want is…
Our love is not ballads And love notes and sonnets: Our love is what we choose every morningWhen you kiss my forehead before work. Our love is an endless array of dinners I make for you, waiting for you to come homeFrom work. Or the meals we make together. We indulge in this lovely Domesticity with each other. Feeding each other, body, […]
This week I’m going to keep it short, but sweet. I’m often asked for dating tips and pointers–no matter the exact topic of discussion the “meat” of my return message seems to boil down to one thing…
Should the cooling off period vary relative to the length of the relationship, or the severity or trauma of the break up — or is everyone different, and there’s just no empirical way to know how long one should wait…
She slept on the kitchen floor. Eyes tear-streaked, her eyeliner and mascara smudged around her eyes. Her hands were dirty, and her arms, though skinny, were well muscled, as though she’s seen some hard work. There was something interesting about her face that made me linger longer than necessary–considering the reason I had come into the kitchen in the first place, due to the alarmingly loud beeping from the smoke detector. I found the cause of the wailing: the stove was on, and a dishrag near the stove had caught fire. What the in the Hell…? Stepping over the figure, I quickly put out the fire and squinted at the microwave, shivering in only my boxers. 5:30am. On a Sunday. Wonderful…
This year, I want to give you The gift of more time. I want your arms around me As we gaze at the sea…
There is a common myth frequently harbored by those seeking love: it’s dangerous, it’s misleading, and it masquerades itself as discernment. This article is for every one of you who’ve declared: “I know what I want.” Well…no, you don’t…
