In retrospect, I’ve tried to look for signs of the revelation that was to come. Was he romantically attracted to me? Definitely. Was he sexually attracted to me? I thought so. When he said he wanted to wait to have sex, should I have been more suspicious? I still don’t know.
Maria Bello: "My feelings about attachment and partnership have always been that they are fluid and evolving"
And I have never understood the distinction of “primary” partner. Does that imply we have secondary and tertiary partners, too? Can my primary partner be my sister or child or best friend, or does it have to be someone I am having sex with? I have two friends who are sisters who have lived together for 15 years and raised a daughter. Are they not partners because they don’t have sex? And many married couples I know haven’t had sex for years. Are they any less partners?
Maria Bello for all the marbles! "I would like to consider myself a 'whatever,'" she writes at the end of this Modern Love [...]
This week's Modern Love column is called "The View From the Victim Room."
Everyone is gentle. The price of admission is abuse. In this court, your ex is referred to as the Respondent. I was there because my ex beat me. If anyone had asked me before my beating if I would defend myself when attacked, I would have said yes, of course I would.
Not an easy read, but it's beautifully written, and pieces like this are crucial: raw, startling, sensate reminders that these statistics translate not just to isolated incidents but to years and lifetimes spent negotiating the grip of trauma.
Infertility treatment can be full of humorous moments. For instance, there’s the moment the two of you suddenly realize you have no container in which to put a sperm sample you must rush over to the lab.
There’s sticking a thermometer in your mouth each day to gauge if one of your ovaries has sent out something at the correct time. Then there are the times you’re sure you are ovulating and rush home to have the sex neither of you remotely feels like having, only to realize you’ve read the little ovulation stick incorrectly.
This week's Modern Love column, by Deborah Derrickson Kossmann, was particularly good.
Related: Did [...]
Let’s start with some statistics.
Cost of the average American wedding in 2012 = $27,000 (not including Honeymoon).
Cost of the average New York wedding = $65,000.
Median U.S. income = $45,000.
Dollars generated by the wedding industry every year = $30 billion.
That includes dresses, elaborate engagement photos, groomsmen gifts, monogrammed handkerchiefs, signature cocktails, bachelorette parties. The soul/love/capital crushing process has been dubbed the “wedding industrial complex,” a cold term that connotes just how effectively capitalism has insinuated itself in an institution supposedly characterized by love and other priceless emotions.
The wedding industrial complex is not without its detractors: Jezebel has entire category devoted to deriding it [...]
"As the first bride to ever walk down the aisle wearing Google Glass, the fairytale romance of Collier and Buthman continues to warm our digital hearts."
Shall we salute the Tweethearts? [HuffPo]
[O]ne night this summer when my husband was out of town, a male friend stopped by for a drink. After our second drink, I kissed him. He started to kiss me back, and then stopped.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said. “I should leave.” After a few ambivalent minutes, he made his way to the door. He knows and likes my husband, and was afraid, he said, that if things went any further he wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.
The strange thing, though, is that my husband would not have objected.
All text taken from Daily Mail captions.
Part 1: The Knicks Game
Cara studied her facial expression Stay alert.
Open-mouthed. Sporty: she wore a black leather jacket and expressed her allegiance to her team. Michelle seemed to be trying to tell Cara something Stay alert. Open-mouthed
Michelle seemed amazed by something else Michelle really struggled to even keep her head up Basketball fan. Michelle decided to recline during the game
Getting close or desperate for attention? Chill out. Are you ok? Stay alert.
Cara and Michelle seemed to be struggling to maintain eye contact with each other As Cara blew [...]
My name is Alan. And I was catfished.
Room, in unison: Hi, Alan.
It’s taken me a long time to admit that. Every aspect of the situation is paralyzingly embarrassing, as you can imagine—even the term we now use to describe it. (Thanks, Nev!) But it happened, it happened to me, and it cut like a burn.
When it began, I was living in a hole of self-pity, depression, and a sharp, perpetual loneliness. I was under the belief that finding a romantic partner would ease some, if not all, of these woes. I was also under the impression that absurd amounts of alcohol would smooth my days and calm [...]
YEARS ago — panicked, on the cusp of 30, between jobs and wondering where life would take me — I consulted a psychic. I remember staring at the sea of green carpet in her home as she addressed the usual concerns.
She told me to marry Mark, the man I was living with, that I would have a son and a daughter, and that my future with them would not be in New York City, contrary to what I had long assumed.
Finally, I asked the question I really wanted answered: “When will I die?”