When I can’t fall asleep or post-savasana in yoga class when my mind is supposed to be clear, I start to wrestle with negative thoughts. Most of the time I can ward them off, but there’s one that plagues me more than any other (possibly because it’s a big fear of mine):
Why the hell am I still single?
I could list all of the things that are great about me and what I could bring to a relationship, but while those things are true, it’s also true that I’m pretty damn picky. And that I like the little life and routine I’ve built for myself. And that I keep dating in the same way (online, at the bars) and expecting different results. And well, I don’t date as much as I know I should be (isn’t once a week enough?!). Continue reading →
I lost my virginity the way that most girls dream about: to my dedicated, kind high school boyfriend who adored me, with candles lit and Boys II Men playing softly in the background. Totally not kidding. My first ‘special sex’ was pretty stereotypical (and so sweet), but it took me nearly a decade to really understand just how “special” sex can get.
There’s nothing like that first time you orgasm and finally understand what the hype is all about, or when you get up the nerve to have a sexy vacation tryst (and no, you’ll never see that person again, but whoa, what a night). Or frankly, when you feel like a lingerie model because you’ve worked so hard to get fit, and you’re crazy-confident on top.
Special sex is special for a reason. And thus, here are a few types of rendezvouses that every woman should experience at least once in her lifetime……
1. The “We Just Said ‘I Love You’ and I’m Trying My Best Not to Cry” Sex
OMG, we’re totaling changing our Facebook status in the morning, but first … get naked, babe.
I really hate being compared to Carrie Bradshaw, but I’m starting to come to terms with it. We might live in apartments the size of her closet and I might be looking in the windows of Jimmy Choo instead of shopping there – but she got one thing right: there is love in New York.
And for a while, we all believed it – at least the six years that Sex & the City was on – but somewhere between The Bachelor and everyone joining Tinder, we got lost.
I know I definitely did. I moved here with a few bags, full of my clothes, my hopes, my minimal savings and my one pair of fuck-me heels (from Target, thank you very much). I didn’t have an apartment or a job when I landed at JFK – but I knew everything would fall into place because I had faith. And a hell of lot of blind ambition.
When it comes to meeting my husband one day, I’m a little worried. Not because I’m afraid it won’t happen (okay, that’s a complete lie, but moving on) but because I’ve been single for a while. And though this solo stint has taught me at ton about my values and desires, it’s also has given me time to think about thethings I absolutely need in a partner.
Some are a little unrealistic, some are must-haves and others will probably pop up along the way, but in no particular order, here are the things that I’ll need from my future husband.
I need you …
1. To say – and write – loving things to me a lot.
I’m absolutely in love with words. And especially loving words. Even if it’s as simple as “I love you” on a Post-It by the Keurig once a week, do it. I’ll also settle for a text message (or 20), too. Continue reading →
If there’s anything being single for the past three years has taught me, it’s that I’d rather be happy by myself then unhappy in a relationship. Maybe it’s because my parents’ almost-30-year marriage is a beautiful example of what I think a great couple is, or maybe it’s because my friends have managed to date really amazing guys. But when it comes to love, whomever I end up with better be the bomb-diggity—or I’ll pass.
That being said—if you ask anyone who knows me pretty well, they’d say that I was pretty picky.
If there’s one thing I won’t reveal on a first date, it’s my last name.
Thanks to a robust writing portfolio and popular dating blog, if a dude searches my name after our happy hour meet-up, he could discovereverything I think about dating, love, and sex. Sorry you’re not sorry, Google! It is sometimes really, really frustrating to have the thing that you love to do be the thing you can’t tell possible boyfriends about (until they get to know you, at least).
Even though it’s something I’ve dealt with since I started writing about my love life four years ago, I’ve never felt ashamed about any of my blog posts until a few weeks ago when I went out with Aaron.
Somewhere out in this mad city, or this crazy country or this beautifully ridiculous world, I know you exist. You have hopes that I’ve never heard, that I don’t know about yet, but these dreams paired with my wild ambitions will create our future. You have been walking on this planet, doing things and making things and being things that mean something to you. I know you are working that 9-6 (or 7 or 8) just like me, wondering when you’ll get where you’re going, even if you’re not sure where that is, exactly, just yet. I know you wake up every morning and you go to sleep every night, and in those hours, those minutes, those seconds in between, you make hundreds of decisions that have yet to lead you to me.
I know you are loved.
There is this family, these friends, these people that have the privilege to talk to you daily. These people have heard your laugh and felt your embrace, they know your voice when you speak and they have memories that go back to the decades I’ve never known you. There are people who think of you because you’ve actually spent time with them, there are women who have shared your heart and your hands, your bed and been stuck in your head. There are people who know your favorite dish, how you take your whiskey and what team you cheer for on Sundays and Mondays at the pub near your apartment, on some street in some place in some city. There are people who love you because you are already so wonderful.