Tag Archives: Marriage

by - 5 Comments

Save The Date: We Want Sex Twitter Party

For those of you who don’t know, I’m the Associate Editor for NBC’s property, iVillage.com of the Pregnancy/Parenting and Love/Sex channels. Seriously, check it out anytime, you’ll love it.

We’re hosting a Twitter party this Wednesday to talk about a super-steamy, super-incredible topic: sex. And I want you to join in the discussion.

It’s really simple. At 9 p.m., log into Twitter. Follow iVillage on Twitter. Answer the questions and chime in your own opinions, using #WeWantSex.

Comment below if you’ll be joining in! Can’t wait to hear from you guys, I’ll be tweeting from my Twitter, @loveaddictnyc.

Tweet you there.

by - 7 Comments

The Great Chase

I tend to take nearly everything my mom says to heart — but one particular tale always sticks out in my mind. I have no idea when she first used it as a learning lesson or how the topic came up, but it goes a little something like this:

Before my mom met my father (in a totally adorable way), she dated a man off-and-on for seven years. (Yes, seven!) He was several years older than her, unfaithful, self-centered and manipulative. He was emotionally abusive, always thought he was right and she was wrong, and though she knew he wasn’t the right guy, she stayed around far longer than she should have. Once she finally ended the relationship on her own terms, she came out of it with bruised confidence, no desire to really jump into another relationship and with one regret that haunts her to this day: not getting her Bachelor’s degree. At 21, when that guy gave her the choice between finishing school or being with him, she picked him. She has an associate’s in business, is a well-known astrologer in our town and is now going back to school to be an esthetician, but she often wonders what life would have been like if she had become a teacher or a psychologist. Now (though I disagree), she thinks it’s too late and too expensive to go back and try again.

And so, since I was a little girl, she’s instilled this notion in me that no man would make you choose between what you love and loving him. She made me promise that I’d finish school before even considering getting married and that I would never let a guy control the dreams I decided to chase. I’ve stumbled across old notebook-paper books bounded by string, where I depicted my future life (in crayon) and it always read, “I’ll go to school, become a journalist and then get married.” Yes, this was me a few decades ago.

I’ve been lucky that I’ve yet to meet a guy who ever asked me to choose between my career and him. Instead, they just left before they could grow attached to me. When Mr. Fire and I ran into each other at a bar in my college town before I graduated and I asked why he left, he said that he knew nothing was keeping me from New York and that he couldn’t compete with that. He continued to say that his current girlfriend lets him be the star and that I would always outshine him. Mr. Idea doesn’t like the idea (pun intended) of relationship writing and thinks all things within a union should be private (probably because of his many hangups behind closed doors), so I knew he would instantly balk at this blog. Mr. Possibility was as supportive as he could be, though I don’t trust the opinion he probably shared with everyone else but me. None of these men asked me to stop going after the career I wanted, they just didn’t get themselves involved, or if they started to become part of it, they made their getaway or pushed me to the point of letting them go.

I get it, I really do. Dating a dating blogger can be a lot of pressure, though most men think they’re worthy of a feature before doing anything that really merits inclusion. I understand that a writer’s life is often public, especially if you’re someone like me, who enjoys honesty to its fullest degree, even if that means being vulnerable and descriptive in ways that don’t always shed the brightest light on everything. And while I see the risks I take in writing this blog or pursuing a career where, ultimately, I hope women read what I write and are inspired to accept and love themselves, I would never stop doing what I love to find love. I’d like to think that the person for me is strong enough to handle an ambitious, tenacious and hard-working woman who knew what she wanted and did all that she could to get there.

I’d like to think that most men aren’t intimidated by successful women these days, but that’s far from the truth. I’d also like to think that women don’t judge other women for following a career instead of following a man, but sadly, that’s not accurate either. When I broke up with Mr. Idea, one of my good friends (who is now married), told me that since I couldn’t make it work with him, I probably wouldn’t find the right guy until at least 28 (gasp!). My grandmother (bless her heart) is proud of all that I’ve accomplished, but still asks about guys and babies every time I see her. When something doesn’t work out with a dude or a date goes sour, all of my paired-up pals always reassure, “Don’t worry, the right guy’s out there, you’ll meet him soon.”

If you read this blog, you know that I want to eventually meet someone to share my life with. I’m candid about the fact that yes, I do want to get married and yes, I do want to have children – but I’m also in no rush at all. I’d rather be single for the next 20 years than to settle for someone just because I feel like I have to get married. I knew I wasn’t alone in these thoughts, but recently, this whole thought process was played out on my news feed.

A friend of mine posted this quote from Lady Gaga, “Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you’re wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn’t love you anymore.” The post received comments, one which was, “but… if you go home and throw a tantrum to your man about work he’ll stay around… if you go to work and throw a tantrum about your man… bye bye career.” And then later, “I hope you haven’t given up on men yet.”

So because she posted a quote that basically said, “Go after your dreams, be who you want to be, don’t follow around a man, don’t depend on a man for happiness” – she’s suddenly given up on love? Quite the contrary, I think. The thing is – if we chase our careers, if we go after those things, whatever they may be, that bring us joy and make us feel like we’re contributing something, then ultimately, the man will be there too. And he won’t ask you to not write about love, to not go to law school, to not make more money than he does, to not be more successful, to not be the star of the relationship. He’ll only ask you to come as you are and let him do the same.

And if you don’t meet a man like that? Luckily, you’ve surrounded yourself with the things you love, built an existence that’s fulfilling and beautiful, traveled to the places you’ve wanted to see, and above all, been brave enough to never settle for less than what you want – in anything.

Especially though, in terms of yourself.

Because men leave and stay, careers grow and they change, but the one constant through it all will always be you. These things aren’t mutually exclusive of one another, as so many believe, it’s just that they don’t depend on each other to make either work. You can have a career without love, love without a career, or a love and a career, but more than anything, you have to have yourself.

And if you can be satisfied that you chased what you wanted instead of following someone else’s direction, you’ll be able to handle the ups and downs of your career and of your relationships. The Great Chase isn’t about a dude or a degree – it’s about always chasing a better you.

by - 10 Comments

The Wisdom to Know the Difference

The mirror that I get ready in front of each morning hangs on the back of my door, surrounded by things I love. Photos of people I know and those I aspire to be like, quotes from calendars four years old and fortune cookies that wished me well, notes from my friends and family, postcards from places I’ve never been — they all are taped and tucked in the edges of a cheap white-framed mirror that came with the first apartment I had in New York.

Maybe mementos are as much a part of my design scheme as the color purple, which captures my attention more than any other shade, for a reason I don’t understand (I hardly wear purple!). I like to be reminded of things that make my happy and as a writer, nothing touches me more than encouraging or engaging words of others, or photos that speak more than any blog could detail. One of the items that I’ve kept around since before college is a bookmark my dad gave me when he was sick and could only express himself through gifts — his own voice too weakened to speak. With a fuzzy beaded tassel and a rainbow in the background, it read the serenity prayer: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.

It’s most well-known as the mantra of Alcoholics Anonymous, but the hope goes for anyone who is trying to overcome anything — where it be a dream passed by or a relationship gone dry. The latter for me, is the most difficult right now.

I hate still writing about him and I hate more that the emotions that invoke me the most to type on these pages are the ones I try to hide from everyone who knows me best. They are the hidden wounds I only let out at nighttime when I’m alone in my room, listening to my roommate play piano and sing with her adorable boyfriend, wishing that things could have just been different with Mr. P. Finally, I’m mature enough to realize that our demise had nothing to do with me and I don’t blame myself for the ending, nor do I want to return to a dysfunctional, one-sided relationship, but it’s my own thoughts-of-what-could-have-been that keep me awake at night and require under eye creme each morning.

Accepting that you can’t change another person, that you can’t love them enough to make them love you in return, that you can’t hold so tight that they see you as irreplaceable, that you can’t turn someone into a better version of themselves, no matter how many letters you write, emails you send, voicemails you leave or love you make with them — takes serenity. It requires constant mental reminders that you’re worth more, that lack-luster anything is just that – lacking of the beautiful luster that comes from a partnership worth the work. Letting go of someone who never latched on to you emotionally can make you feel like it was impossible for someone to fall in love with you, but that’s when that courage comes in. That’s when you have to be brave enough to realize that while this person wasn’t right for you, no matter how much you believed they could be, if history proves anything, it’s that once we love someone, we can always love someone else. It often gets better and stronger every time around.

But only if we are wise enough to realize the difference between what we can change and what we can’t. In every relationship, it’s the different between knowing you can only control yourself and your actions, not a guy’s decisions and his emotions. And if he isn’t giving you what you want or what you deserve, your only option is to walk away, even if that’s the hardest task of all.

Outside of my favorite pub in midtown east, a tad tipsy from cheap white wine and Blue Moon, I looked inside to see my favorite girls laughing and bundling up in their coats and scarves and then outside to the city that makes me feel at home, and though I was tempted to text the only man I’ve loved in New York, the frustration and the trouble that always comes from contacting him, kept me from pushing send.

Because these women always keep me laughing, these streets breathe new life into me, and I’m lucky enough to know the difference between the things that are good for me and the things that are bad. And since no one I care about would ever try to change me, I can’t expect to change someone I once (and let’s be honest, still do) cared for deeply, it’s not what is best for me or for him. But I can change myself and my perspective – simply by looking at all that I have around me. The serenity is there, if I’m brave enough to look for it.

And maybe someday, there will be a someone who will bring that same serenity, without having to change either of us, at all.

by - 10 Comments

Making a Commitment to Me

It’s a lot easier to see a relationship clearly once you’re not in it anymore. That’s the way it is with anything — sometimes your friends understand you in ways you can’t, your family accepts you, even when perhaps, they shouldn’t, and no matter what you do right or wrong, those who love you, see you through your moments of crazy and of clarity. Even if the first is more common than the latter.

The period following a breakup is like that too: it partly makes you feel like you’re losing your mind and partly makes you feel like you’re finally getting your mind back. In this particular case, it feels like I’m getting my life back.

I was walking back from the gym on Wednesday evening after a very difficult workout, chatting with my friend L and my mom, and I remembered what it felt like before Mr. Possibility. When every decision I made was based on what I wanted and what I needed, not on what I thought would make him happy. I remembered what it felt like to run nearly every single day a week and the instant confidence boost I feel every time I go. I remembered what it was like to reconnect with friends and to make plans for the entire weekend that revolve around nothing else but a good time and giggles. I remembered what if was like to wake up when I wanted to, to not share my bed or my heart, and to just be…me.

I didn’t see how the relationship was affecting me when I was in it — those rare nights where everything felt right with Mr. P always seemed to outshine the rest of the days when everything was completely off. I didn’t realize how I pushed my friends aside or how I put my feelings and my desires on hold in an effort to be what he desired. I knew, but didn’t fully comprehend how little time I took to actually take care of myself or how much I really missed running, even with the aches and pains it brings me. Come to find out, the aches and pains a man who isn’t right gives you are actually quite more difficult to get over, and require a different kind of stretching.

When I returned to my apartment, I noticed how much cleaner I’ve kept my room, how it finally looks like someone lives here, instead of someone who just passed by because she’s in such a rush to get to her boyfriend’s apartment. I looked around at the space that no longer houses anything that really reminds me of Mr. P, and with a glass of wine and a delectable dinner I cooked just for me, I retreated to the living room to enjoy the company of myself. My roommates gradually joined and chatted, and even though I’ve lived here for five months, it was one of the first times I really connected to them.

I would never say I regret anything that happened with Mr. P or that my time with him was time wasted. I value what he taught me (even if I’m still trying to figure that out) and a part of me will always love him. But I couldn’t see how unhappy I really was until I had the strength to leave and rediscover the happiness I had forgotten about. The happiness that comes from just living my life, doing those things I love to do, and spending time with those I love. Regardless of the words I wrote on this blog or the advice I gave, when all was said and done, I was the girl who still let a man monopolize her life. I put him before myself and before my friends, and in the end, I’m not only rebuilding my mojo, but the bridges I let crumble.

For the first time ever, I think — I really don’t want a relationship. In the hysteria of our ending when I was upset and angry, I immaturely screamed at him: “Well you cured me, Mr. P! I don’t want anything to do with love!” Of course one day, I’m sure I will — but I don’t really long for companionship. I don’t envy the couples I see. I’ll go out on dates, but I’m not begging or working for them. I’m quite content on my own and I really don’t feel like I need a man to complete my life — it already feels complete.

I’m healing and I’m learning more about myself each and every single day. And until I get to the point where I know that I won’t lose myself in another relationship or in the arms of some guy, I really have no desire to be committed. Instead, I’m making a commitment to myself, one that involves running again, spending more time with my friends, doing things that I’ve put on hold, taking time to rest, working harder than I have before, traveling and falling in love with this city…

…as I try to fall in love with myself again, too.

by - 4 Comments

The Show Goes On

Since the pharmacist decided to take her sweet time, I was running late to a luxury event where, apparently, they revealed a fabulous new car for 2012. Not one for automotives unless they are yellow and can take me from point A to point B — I wasn’t annoyed to miss the big unveiling, but rather the unveiling of the champagne.

When I arrived in my worth-every-penny gold and white heels, sporting an orange dress and tousled locks, the first thing my dear friend A said was: “Your hair always looks so good. I kinda of hate you just as much as I love you.” I put together a smile while I put together my attitude and looked around, attempting to take in the expensive scene that technically I couldn’t afford, except for the fact I’m considered press. No one needs to know I cover love and sex instead of new cars and overpriced chocolates (though they were quite delicious).

It came as no surprise that my friends were camping out in the beverage line and I was thankful to have such beautiful lushes as my affectionate accomplices. M and A tried out bourbon while K and I stuck to wine, and as I whipped around, still situating myself and my bag, I found myself eye-to-eye with someone I didn’t want to see…

…Mr. Possibility’s best friend.

I didn’t notice him at first, as I was carefully trying to ignore the creepy older dude hitting on K and I behind us, but when I turned my head, he swiftly said, “Lindsay! What are you doing here? I didn’t think you noticed me.” He was right — I hadn’t. I was far too consumed in catching up with the girls to pay attention to someone who only brings back memories of a time that may have been recent, but now seems so far away. He’s a lovely person with an impressive resume and Rolodex, and while there may be tension between Mr. P and I, I decided to be the bigger person and greet him with the same pleasantries he presented me with. We exchanged a few words and I introduced my friends before we headed off to make our rounds around the event. The second we separated, I whispered over my Cabernet: “That’s Mr. Possibility’s best friend. How is it such a small world?”

I followed the advice of my friends and carefully put the fear of Mr. P showing up in the back of my mind, though I casually kept one eye on the entrance, praying he didn’t walk through, arm-in-arm with a tall blonde that would put my short stature to shame. We tasted the most delicious macaroons I’ve ever had, ran into some old friends who happen to play Manhattan Rugby (in other words, trouble!), and made an effort to be as ridiculous as possible at such a fancy occasion. You could blame our age or the fact that pricey things aren’t impressive as our bond — but either way, I’ll go with the latter. Sometimes giggling is more fun than gawking — right?

As we stumbled out to the Autumn night, thankful that the rain subsided, we made our way to a local place we love, ordered truffle french fries and laughed about things we won’t remember tomorrow. We discussed weekend plans while confessing how sincerely happy we are with our jobs and how sometimes we just want to pinch ourselves out of a reality that seems so dreamlike. There was hardly any mention of relationships, no deciphering about a guy who may or may not like us, no realization of insecurities or inconsistencies. Instead, if we talked about guys, it was in the context of how badly we wanted sex and how we could possibly go about sleeping with half of the foreign population of Manhattan without losing our dignity. We haven’t figured it out yet, but when we do, I’ll be sure to update. Promise.

As I saw the street lights reflect off my plate and in the eyes of women that I haven’t known very long, but feel like I’ve known forever, I felt a certain sense of peace and an undeniable joy stem from my heart. There may be no Mr. Possibility left to go home to, but the possibilities before me seem quite endless. I thought, nestled in my own corner of Manhattan: The city is still alive and so is my life, it’s just that one chapter has come to a close. There is still so much more ahead. 

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have mixed feelings. There are moments, like when I see a mutual friend or when I walk past something I first saw with Mr. P that I miss him. There are times when I still get the urge to text him or to email him, and a few times, I’ve given into that longing, only to be further disappointed by the response. The thing about breaking up with someone who wasn’t giving you the love and commitment that you deserve, is that once the relationship has been solidified as over, that disconnect only seems more evident. His name is still sensitive to my ears and the memory of his touch still endearing, but the level of settling I’d have to surrender to go back to his bed is far too high for me to rationalize it. My heart may feel one thing, but my head places it in its place when it’s pulling too roughly.

Being single isn’t easy — but we all know I know that. If I didn’t, this blog would have never existed. Some of my dearest friends are radiating with the newly-engaged splendor, others are going through a divorce at the ripe age of 23 and even more are doing just what I’m doing: discovering men while discovering themselves. I used to want to skip the dating part and skip the trial and error that it brings. I used to hope that I could just wake up, walk out of my building and be greeted by the man who would be the end of my heartbreak — but now, I long for adventure. I wish to figure myself out more. I wish to try new things and meet new people. I’m thankful that the idea of getting married makes me uneasy because I know I’m not ready. I find peace in being by myself and I try my best to make the most of my solo life before it becomes a duet performance.

Walking back from the subway, sporting M’s new perfume Chance by Chanel, I caught a whiff of my youth. It smelled a little like sunshine, a bit by stale red wine and a lot like curiosity. I smiled at the stranger I passed and I held the door open for the teenager who scurried up the stairs with rosy, blushing cheeks. Once he was out of sight, I turned up my iPod and danced, all by myself, waiting for the elevator to come . No one saw and it didnt’ matter because the words of Lupe Fiasco were enough for me:

The show goes on. After heartbreak, after change, after failure, after disappointment, after the end of something you really cared about. No matter the trouble, no matter how you think it will turn out, no matter what you face, no matter who you love, no matter who you hurt.

The show just keeps going on. And luckily, so do I — as do you.