I’m researching my past life as a wannabe ride or die bitch and found this AWESOME photo of a DC3/TLC doppleganger girl group I used to pronounce as “bleak.” Go ahead, laugh it up.
Hot queer girls, vaguely insane hopeless romantics, and straight-up sore losers.
Talking to Strangers in Park Slope…never a dull moment.
(Source: nervemedia)
Rejection: The Most Real Fact of Life There Is
FACT: Everyone is terrified of rejection.
FACT: Death excluded, rejection is the only part of life we can count on actually happening.
FACT: I just wrote “countdown” instead of ” count on” because I need to go to Beyonce rehab. If you don’t know what I’m referring to, please click here and experience ecstasy.
The moral of the story is that rejection within the context of dating and romance can be soul-crushing, mind-numbing, and pee-your-pants terror inducing, but, like taxes and Everybody Loves Raymond, it’s just one of those things you’re gonna need to learn to deal with. So why not read a step-by-step instruction manual?
Alright, fine, my 1200 word how-to guide isn’t quite manual-status, but it will offer you some useful tips of how to cope with both sides of the rejection process.
Spoiler alert: No matter which side you’re on, the best cure for the rejection blues is loving yourself and knowing the awesomeness you deserve.
Unconvinced? Read!
"He moved in with me three days after we met and then we got engaged about a week after that. We haven't spent a single day apart."
Read on to hear a freestyle rap about a hook-up that came to a screeching halt due to a fistfight. Preview: “Went from ‘Oh oh’ to ‘Oh no.’”
Talking to strangers in New York City.
OBSESSED WITH BEYONCE AND JAY-Z IN AN UNHEALTHY WAY.
(Source: vulgar-luxury)
The Karmic Implications of Settling and Futzing
Every once and awhile I manage to steer the conversation away from my own romantic failures, and find it in myself to write about problems I have yet to experience. Like settling.
The idea of settling in the context of romance freaks me out because I don’t like what it’s doing to my karma. Let’s say I settle for someone now, but we end up breaking up for other reasons. Let’s say after that, I meet someone and I fall in love with them, but then I find out that person I am in love with is “just settling” for me. Let’s say I have a nervous breakdown and never find love again. Settling=Bad Karma.
A less dramatic reason I’m not a fan of settling is the the fact I’m not yet a haggard 40-something, tossing all my magic pennies in the fountain of youth wishing for a baby. Oh nuts, I said less dramatic, didn’t I?
Ok, how about this: I’m still young. I’ve got the time to futz about, so futz about I shall. While I’m not advocating to throw away every guy that doesn’t fit your neurotic mold for Mr. Right—because that too would be bad, bad, BAD karma—I do think we can all afford to be a little bit more picky. I’ve dated guys with some bright red flags, and although I may have stuck around for a little too long, I still feel proud that I didn’t settle just because I had doubts about if I could do better. Instead I went off to futz about with some other potential Knight in Shining Armor. Or whatever.
The thing about futzing though, is that everyone has their own personal style. For some people futzing might mean staying in a relationship that’s only a B, but making the most of the A parts (like companionship, or sex, or security, or getting free drinks). We have so many choices, and so many ways to mess every single one of them up, all we can do is hope for the best. Besides, if being young doesn’t mean screwing everything up and starting all over again, what does it mean?
And since that’s a rhetoric question, that’s where I’m gonna leave it.
Read my article.
Sex advice from cougars: “Playing hard to get is sexy; being hard to get is sexier.”
I Heart Amy
Things I Love/Loved/Will Always Love About Amy Winehouse
In no particular order….
-Her incredible soul power.
-Her excellent signature hairstyle/old skool look.
-Her music brought the Motown sound/soul music to a new generation of fans and for that I am grateful.
-The unique rawness of her voice, an authentic sound I fear we won’t be hearing much of from future artists as the popularity of Auto-Tune grows.
-She is the only artist who could not only heavily sample “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” without irritating me, but also make me love her use of the song nearly as much as the original.
-The look of complete shock and awe on her face when she won Best Record of the Year for “Rehab.”
-She offers one of the best and truest depictions of loneliness I’ve ever heard.
-She gave me some advice I won’t ever stop trying to attain: “I should just be my own best friend, not fuck myself in the head with stupid men.”
-Her ability to use the word “fuckery” without complete ease, as if it’s a conjugation of “fuck” we all use on the regular.
-Girlfriend was just a normal, suburban Jewish girl who loved herself some classic r&b and soul—we’re basically soul mates. I too would rather stay at home with Ray and Mr. Hathaway, Amy.
-Although she clearly did not have control over her demons, that didn’t stop her from singing honestly about them. We all have pain, we all have problems, but we’re not all open about exactly what those issues are. At first I felt uncomfortable that Amy’s legacy was mainly being framed by her infamous lyrics “They tried to make me go to rehab, I said no, no, no” but on further reflection, I now feel vaguely proud of her. Addiction was not the only part of who Amy was, but it was a large enough part that she served it up to us straight and didn’t apologize, but she also tried her best to let it get in her way. She never stopped trying to showcase her talents, even when her addictions were getting the best of her. That’s admirable.
-This song. Always.
Masculinity in R&B: Otis Vs. Ne-Yo
One of the best feelings in the world is re-discovering music you never knew you lost. Today, for instance, I re-discovered an Otis Redding song I could have sworn I had on mp3, but in fact did not. Fascinating, right?
I found Otis’ “You Made A Man Out Of Me” on a mix CD I made almost five years ago. I guess a lot has changed in five years, because the first thing I thought upon hearing the song was not “wow, those signature horns sound great,” but “wow, I’m dying to unpack the gender roles and expectations in this song.” Yeah, college will do that to you.
In the song, Otis sings about his relationship with a woman who has “made a big ol’ man” out of him. The only clues we get regarding how Otis’ girlfriend achieved this feat are from lyrics like “you gave me everything, you taught me everything… you showed me what to do” which is really not much to go on. Despite my usual dirty mind, I actually don’t think that Otis is talking about sex in this song. I think he’s singing about maturity. I vaguely remember listening to this song as an 18 year old and thinking “geez, it’s really not my responsibility to turn a boy into a man. WTF, Otis,” but the distance I’ve had from it has changed my mind.
My new analysis of the song is that Otis is genuinely grateful for his transformation, and that whatever his girlfriend did was of her own volition rather than societal pressure. I suspect Otis’ gratefulness has to do with the time period in which the song was released, namely the early 1960s, an era recently popularized by Mad Men. We all know from witnessing Don Draper’s swagger that there really wasn’t anything sexier during those years than a real man’s man. Betty certainly didn’t make Don into a man, which is exactly why it’s understand that Otis would be appreciative of a woman who forced him to get his act together so he could join the ranks of Don-like manliness. I’m not trying to belittle Otis here, I just think it’s admirable that in his mind, in this song, being a man is of value to him—even if it’s a woman who made him that way.
The juxtaposition between Otis’ message and the message today’s solo male artists are singing about is what makes unpacking “You Made A Man Out Of Me” so relevant and interesting. Take Ne-Yo’s “Miss Independent” for example. Here is a man expressing his love for a woman based upon her ability to pay for her own car and house and still say things like “don’t worry I got it.” Like Otis, Ne-Yo isn’t threatened by this woman’s power, but rather than allowing that power to make him a better man, Ne-Yo seems content with just being impressed and aroused. It’s obvious that Ne-Yo thinks the woman in the song is breaking gender norms (in the sexiest way possible, of course), but never once is his masculinity questioned.
The difference between “Miss Independent” and “You Made A Man Out Of Me” can mainly be credited to the second wave of women’s liberation that took place in the fifty or so years between each song’s releases. For better or for worse, whether you realize it or not, feminism now has a profound affect on the roles men and women currently take on. Without feminism the woman in “Miss Independent” wouldn’t exist, but with feminism, Ne-Yo doesn’t feel the need to flex his masculinity in as overt a fashion as Otis did.
“Miss Independent” may lack gender normativity, but it’s actually the absence of overt masculinity that is most telling. In falling in love with a girl who makes her own money, Ne-Yo is showing exactly how secure he is in his manhood. A real 21st century man would never feel threatened by a woman’s professional and monetary success, no, he would go ahead and enjoy it with her. He would let her get the check, sure, but not without reminding her of how proud he is of her for paying for dinner all by herself.
Aw, now isn’t that just precious?
Ex Sex: Can You Handle It and Can I Handle Writing About It?
When I write something about sex and love, my intentions generally fall into one of two categories: mind-blowingly frank or useful and inspirational.
I wanted this article about having sex with your ex to be in the latter category, but instead I stumbled upon a whole new area of focus: accidental catharsis for $$$.
This piece is so real that I probably should have just ripped a page out of my diary and given that to my editor instead. It would have saved me time and the result would be just as heart-wrenchingly honest. On the other hand, it also would have been full of spelling errors and I wouldn’t have been able to impart any sort of wisdom at the end of the article, which I do. I hope.
My mother’s best friend (who was also a writer and whom I referred to as my Aunt) once told me that if a piece isn’t scary to write then it’s not worth writing. I think this piece is a great example of that mantra.
