Breaking Up Is Hard to Do With Dignity

Six months ago, I wouldn’t have said I thought my life was awesome. I was definitely thinking it, but I would never have said it. That would have made me sound like an asshole. I had a sweet job, I was living in a ridiculous apartment, and I was sharing it with the boyfriend of four years I thought I was going to marry. Then ... stuff got less awesome. Six months shy of my thirtieth birthday, our relationship ended abruptly, I had to move out of his (ahem, his parents’) apartment, and I still had my sweet job, but he worked there too, making it slightly less sweet on a day-to-day basis. I was sad and I was jarred. It felt like that party in college when I was dancing with a guy and the girlfriend I didn’t know existed threw a beer can at my head. Not only did it hurt, but I looked really, really stupid. READ MORE

Am I Cheating on My Boyfriend With My Personal Trainer?

Before you judge me, let me be clear: I tried to make it work at home. I showed my boyfriend the pictures from high school where I hid my chunk beneath slimming black leggings and an oversized t-shirt of whatever musical was big on Broadway that month. I told him, “This is what happens to my body when it doesn’t get a workout! And I’m lazy. So unless you want to get to know the old lady with braces at the Mamma Mia! merch table, you’ve got to help me exercise!” We went running a few times, we even tried to train for the New York Marathon together, but it always ended with me tearful, flushed, and begging for him to slow down, while he patiently explained, “Sweets, there are lots of things you’re better at than me. Can’t you just admit that I’m a better athlete?” No. I couldn’t. Because he’s not. I’m the best at everything, and in cases where I don’t appear to be, I’m probably just playing down my excellence so I don’t make anyone feel bad. READ MORE