"Commitmentstein: A Monster Of Our Own Making."
Excerpt: "This form of commitment, not to an ideal or a relationship, instead focuses on commitment to a person. A commitment to on the daily accept their “most tiresome, irritating faults.” Gilbert explains, as she comes to grips with the idea of living with just one, flawed man for the rest of her life, “What I am talking about is learning to accommodate your life as generously as possible around a basically decent human being who can sometimes be an unmitigated pain in the ass” (Committed, 132). Because that is what you are doing—you’re welcoming a pain in the ass into your life. You’re telling them that you are committed to being their co-ass. That you like their ass-ish-ness. That you might even, in fact, find it endearing and lovable and value it, quirks and all. And really, once you learn not to expect the moon from someone, and instead take what they can give you, flaws and all, what more could you ask for from them? Nothing. And right about then, you can start to learn to be content. Content, and committed.""Miss Communication"
Excerpt: "I think men just look at those texts, grunt, file it away, and move on with life. Or devouring whatever cavebeast they just managed to maul and kill.
Personally, I think we women would get a lot further in keeping their attention if our clothing designers started using bacon as a fabric.
This frame of mind is pretty much the only thing that makes me keep my shit together when I myself send messages that never get responses or aren't returned. Though I am pretty sure at this point that it is standard male procedure to read messages, respond to them in their mind, and then go back to whatever it was they were previously doing, sure that the telepathic message will get through, no bad feelings meant, nothing makes me want to sit in front of my computer more, fuming, and then scream like a she-banshee and bash the stupid little "no messages" or "empty inbox" icon with the closest heavy object. (Most likely, a shoe or the Murano glass ashtray.) Here is a thought: Sometimes, even if it is not required, or you don't think it's so very important, a response is not only nice, but proper good manners.""Ghosts: Night Of The Undead Living Relationship"
Excerpt: "But that’s how past relationships work—you’ll never quite get rid of them. They will always be people you look at and think, “I spent a month/2 nights/6 months thinking you were the best thing on Earth, and I know what you look like naked.” It’s a hard act to juggle... Ghosts haunt. Not all of us have exorcists on call. And like Casper, not all ghosts are unfriendly. But ghosts do hinder you—other people don’t want to come and play in your little fright-fest. It's not fair to ask other people to put up with your undead companions."
Excerpt: "I listened to one of my roommates one night as she stood in the hallway outside my door, crying. “Love is a fairytale,” she said. “It doesn’t exist.” As I listened to her, I felt my heartbeat shudder a bit. Not because of the fact that she was obviously upset, but because of the fact that she didn’t believe. It pains me, deep down, when people profess that they don’t believe in Love. What, then, do you really have to live for? ‘What does that mean for me?’ I remember thinking. ‘That’s sad and all that she doesn’t have faith for herself, in herself, but what does it mean for me that there are other people out there who don’t believe in Love like I believe?’""Can You Hear Me Now? GOOD."
Excerpt: "It's not you-- it's us. It's us worrying why that guy never called after we gave him our number, or after a first date, or after he said he would, when really, it's clear. It's us worrying about how you used to call every day or text us for at least a half an hour every afternoon, and now that things are comfortable and you feel like you don't have worry about us running off with a new best friend/other sibling/new guy without you, you've stopped "just checking in." Well, here's the doozy: just when you are feeling comfortable enough to not have to talk to us everyday or every other day, we have gotten used to it. We've (wrongly) grown to depend on it. No one can keep that sort of instantaneous gratification up, and we are just starting to realize stamina's limitations. We're just feeling smug about the fact that we found someone who knows the importance of good communication, and then you go and pull the rug right out from under us, wrap your line of communication up in it, throw it off the wharf, and call it a day."
"Taking Back "Slut": Self-Marketing And Dating In The 21st Century"
Excerpt: "Dating, relationships, and especially sex are important to me. Those are the things I find fascinating, but also find most people don't talk enough about truthfully, candidly, and personally. Sex is how the human race continues-- relationships and dating are what gets us there. (Most of the time.) (Unless you really are a big slut.) (I love you.) I can't tell you how many times people have said to me, "the same thing is happening to me" or "I'm so glad you said that because I never would, but I feel the same way." Furthermore, I write a blog called "Sex and the College Girl." Would you really take me seriously as someone who knew what she was talking about if I looked the same way I do on any given day in my profile picture, or is that same infamous picture that makes my mother cringe what helps give me my credibility? Is my cleavage helping you trust in me? Is my cleavage giving me credibility?""All My Single Ladies"
Excerpt: "You, lady, on your own, as a single, solitary unit, are far stronger than any other man or couple. You are a lean, mean, self-sufficient machine. So who cares if the random dude you met at the bar never called you? It doesn't mean you're unlovable. You know what, I love you. I fucking love you for how strong you are, and how optimistic, and at the same time, how fragile you can be. I love you for your hopes and your dreams and for what you deserve. I, a perfect stranger to you, maybe, love you for the fact that you're going through the same exact thing I am right now, and that means that I am not alone, and in fact, you are not alone either.""Speak Softly, But Carry A Sharp Stiletto"
Excerpt: "It’s been said by Lauren Frances, author of Dating, Mating, and Man-Handling, (a book that I very much recommend,) that men will straight-out tell you their dirty little dating secret, usually within the first few times you meet them. It will be casually stated, like a joke or a self-depreciating fact, and if you’re not listening for it, you won’t catch it. It’s so true, too. Since I read her book, I’ve applied this to all the men I’ve been with... After they tell you what their Achilles’ heel is, constant vigilance will probably be required. I’m warning you now."The Games People Play"
Excerpt: "Every woman has her own version of The Game. Some follow the tried-and-true rules of things like the sex-on-the-third-date rule to make sure a guy is interested enough in her to go through three separate instances of public and monetary showmanship. Some enlist physical touch or making their hands (or any other body part, for that matter), available to see if the offer is taken. Others doll themselves up in heels, make-up and particularly pretty or provocative outfits to see if they can make men remember that they are, in fact, pretty damn fine women, and not just that girl who he always crashes on the sofa with wearing jeans and a hoodie. Still more women play the jealously card and go so far as to blatantly ogle other men or casually mention in passing to their beau another man who has recently admired them/complimented them/ asked them out. These are the games that women play, and we are not the only players. Men may either realize it or not, but they are almost always engaged in some sort of cleverly connived feminine subterfuge. (Scary, isn’t it?) If it’s done well, a man will never even know what hoops he’s being made to jump through—he’ll just know that he suddenly feels a strong urge to do something, the result of which is probably the means to the end of the game. Games and their outcomes tell girls a lot more about a particular guy than dating for a number of months or hours spent talking could.""He's Just Not That Into You, or "Don't Expect Me To Ever Call You Again After This Movie"."
Excerpt: "The sort of guy who takes a girl to see this movie on Valentine’s Day is also the sort of guy who, as Ben does in the movie, would tell his wife in the middle of Home Depot that he’d slept with another woman. I sat there, stunned, in the dark theater, and then actually murmured out-loud, “But there are power drills there. And power saws. And staple guns. Why would you tell her that somewhere she could easily hurt you with large, expensive machinery?” Not well thought-out. Unfortunately, the writers decided to take this scenario somewhere I would never expect it to go in real life if it involved a woman with any self-respect or sense of vindication, and instead Ben’s wife, Janine, takes a moment to mull this information over and responds with a bland, “We’ll work through this.” The writers seriously missed a chance for some good, realistic, full-blown action here."