I recently wrote a post about Kourtney Kardashian and her unwillingness to marry the father of her child (and future child), Scott Disick. I asked readers for their thoughts about living with someone and/or having children with him/her, but not getting married. One reader, Heather, wrote the following comment about an unfortunate situation she has been dealing with:
Heather: I’ve been involved with someone for about 2 years who doesn’t believe in marriage or having kids. I seem to question what I’m doing often since the “whole package” was all I ever dreamed of. I got involved with him because he made me feel an unbelievable way that no one else ever had before. But I had hoped that by this point my happiness and views would be important to him too and maybe he would meet me halfway. Boy was I wrong! Even though I go above and beyond for him/us and was even willing to compromise my views for him, he won’t budge for me. I guess it really depends on the two people, their views and the situation.
Like a million other people, I have been in this situation, myself. I once dated a guy who told me that he Continue reading →
I’ve always been fairly traditional when it comes to relationships: You see each other, then you see each other exclusively as boyfriend and girlfriend, then you eventually become engaged, then you walk down the aisle and get married, and then you start popping out mini-me’s. I don’t hate on people who don’t do things in that exact order (heavy on the last two), but I, myself, would like my life to pan out that way.
All I keep hearing about is how Kourtney Kardashian refuses to marry Scott Disick. Personally, I don’t give a flying fudge what Kourtney Kardashian does, especially after the whole Kim Kardashian/Chris Humphries wedding debacle (another blog, another blog). But inquiring minds want to know: Why won’t she marry this guy who she is clearly in love with enough to live with and have not one but two children with?
I was once on a date with a guy that I had been talking to for a few weeks. We went to my favorite Italian restaurant. Seated in the backhand corner at a small table, we were eating fried calamari when it happened…The incident.
I was mid-story (which involved reeneacting a scene in which my finger was pointed up at his face) when he reached out about halfway over the table (where my finger was), grabbed onto it, and pulled it down.
My jaw dropped faster than my finger.
“Did you just pull my finger down?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Yeah. People thought you were yelling at me. They look over and see your finger in my face like that.” Continue reading →
When I was on Elvis Duran and the Morning Show the other day, a girl named Amy called in and said that making a picnic for a guy made me look “desperate.” I replied, “I prefer to think of myself as adorable and not desperate, but that’s me.” Elvis then said the title of this post – “There’s a thin line between adorable and desperate.”
I’d like to take a moment and consider this statement. Where is the cut off from doing something that a guy you’re seeing would consider “cute” and completely having him think you’re a totally desperate loser who is well-on your way to Stage 5 Clinger status?
TJ, Carolina Bermudez, Danielle Monaro, and Elvis came to my defense. Skeery Jones, however, told me that girls shouldn’t offer to pay for anything until Date #5…and what I did was a total “doormat” move. I could only imagine what he’d say about the rest of this blog! In addition to packing a lovely picnic for a guy because he only came to NY on the weekends and had no knowledge of the city besides an Irish pub that he went to with some of his friends, I have also done quite a few other things for the men in my life. Does that make me desperate? Because I think it makes me kind. But tomato, tomahto in this day in age, right?
It has taken me almost a decade of dating to finally realize that the guys I go out with completely ignore me the second they hear a bitchy tone in my voice. That is why I use my theater training to keep my voice steady whenever I am trying to get my point across. This usually fails me. Which is also why I tend to do most of my arguing through the ever-so-impersonal text messaging.
I don’t know if it’s from growing up in a huge, Italian family, loving and practicing acting, or the fact that I was once a teacher, but those who know me will contest to the fact that I tend to have a somewhat big mouth. Okay, okay, a very big mouth. I find it difficult being able to stay quiet when I know that what I have to say is of the utmost importance. And even more difficult when this very important thing is something that I’m upset about.
I tend to get a little emotional, and my voice…well, it projects, if you will, a tad bit more than usual. This is construed as my “bitch voice.” Similar to a bitch face, in which everyone knows not to come near me, a bitch voice makes the guy I’m dating want to hide from me. The second he hears it, he immediately senses that he should be fearful and, therefore, his defenses go up.
He immediately begins backing away from me (physically or emotionally or both) and tunes out whatever it is I’m yelling about. I start to sound like the teacher in Charlie Brown and, subsequently, all he hears is “Blah blah blah” and all he thinks is Wow, my girlfriend is a real bitch.Continue reading →
I was once watching an episode of Sex & the City and one of the main characters, Miranda, said something that practically made me get up and kiss the television. She said, “I hate those guys that you have a perfect second date with – and then they never call you again…I pretend they died.” What a fabulous statement!
The second I heard that, I screamed because I thought that I was the only person that ever did that! Just think about how many times that’s happened to you. You meet a guy at a party, bar, or club, you hit it off, he asks for your number, and you go out a few times. Before you know it, you’re secretly picking out your bridesmaids’ gowns, and he’s secretly going through his phonebook, looking for someone else to call.
I can honestly say that I have been on some of the worst dates in the history of the world. And, of course, I totally checked the history of the world before I made that claim to fame. Today, I’m going to share one of my more treasured memories with you. You may want to sit down for this one. Scratch that. Grab your laptop, find a friggin’ bed and lay down. Yeah, it’s that bad.
A few years ago, I met a really nice guy (ha!) named Paul that went to my college. He had seen a picture of me on Facebook and sent me a message. We exchanged phone numbers, and started talking and texting fairly regularly. One day, we decided to meet in the quad and, luckily, hit it off. I wasn’t overly impressed with his looks, but he was sweet to me, and smart, and tall. I decided that I had to stop being so shallow (remember that ironic comment later on), and that these qualities trumped being completely gorgeous. So when Paul asked me to get sushi with him that Friday night, I gladly accepted.