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Posted in:
October 23, 2007 12:00 AM by Colleen Oakley | COMMENTS
After three weeks of bliss — which included nine dates, several of Mark's morning smoothies, one epic Scrabble battle, plus daily texts, e-mails, and phone calls — Mark disappeared.
I wondered what I did wrong. Should I have been more cheerful or less available? Was I not cultured enough for a man fluent in three languages? Was my blow-job technique subpar?
To find out, I drunk-dialed him. (He didn't answer.)
Next came full days spent Googling. I was looking for a photo of his ex, with whom I was sure he'd reunited. I knew her first name was Jennifer and that she was an actress, so I tried "actress jennifer new york." Then I tried his full name and her first, etc. Nothing.
A friend set me up with Michael, who took me for sushi. When he asked, "Do you date much?" I launched into a detailed account of me and Mark, and sought Michael's opinion on what went wrong. Later, as we said good night, he nearly tripped as he backed away from me. That's when it hit me. I was that stone-cold Glenn Close crazy person who can't get over a guy.
Finally, I wrote Mark an e-mail. "I wish you had the decency to let me know you didn't want to see me anymore instead of leaving me wondering." It took three days to write. I forwarded it to friends. I read it over the phone to another ex. "Yep," he said. "That would make me feel like shit."
I clicked "Send." I dwelled, I fantasized, I waited. Finally, I stopped waiting.
A drink in the face? I get it. Angry text messages? Girl, I understand. Slashed tires? Seems a bit extreme, but who am I to judge? I'm crazy.
Photo by Johann Helgason
Posted in:
October 18, 2007 12:00 AM by Julia Scirrotto | COMMENTS
Not long ago, I initiated an in-person split with a long-term boyfriend — a nebulous "I don't feel the way I need to to make this work" situation that ended in a storm of nerves, tears, and unsatisfactory explanations. Even worse, when it was over, I knew I had to do it three more times — on Facebook, Friendster, and MySpace.
I'd seen friends engage in uncoupling 2.0. Some did it quickly, like tearing off a Band-Aid. But to me, it seemed juvenile to rush to the keyboard and update my relationship status while the mascara was still running down my cheeks. I decided to let a grace period pass before I dealt my new ex three more punches to the gut (and announced to the world that I was available).
Then, nine days post-breakup, I got an out-of-the-blue text from one of his closest confidants. "It's okay to update your Friendster and Facebook pages," he wrote. "In fact, I think it would help." It was his way of saying I was keeping hope alive where there was none. I took the advice and, in rapid succession, changed all three profiles to "Single."
Facebook captured the moment best. After issuing the warning "Your relationship will be canceled," it branded my page with the little icon of a sawed-in-half red heart. A breakup completed.
Photo by Justin Horrocks
Posted in:
October 9, 2007 12:00 AM by Unknown | COMMENTS
50% of people have used a dating website.
50% of men and 32% of women have dated a friend's ex.
10% of men say they know in the first two minutes if there will be a second date.
46% of women ages 21 to 29 buy something new to wear on a first date. (That drops to 37% once they hit 30.)
60% of women want a guy to bring flowers.
36% of dating men have feigned disinterest to get the upper hand.
41% of women have pretended to be sick to end a date early.
30% of respondents cop to hooking up with someone who was married.
Twice as many men as women have dated for money.
47% of Democrat women and 20% of Republican women say it's OK to get busy on the first date.
(Source: Beta Research Survey of 800 singles.)
Posted in:
October 5, 2007 12:00 AM by Abby Ellin | COMMENTS
A savvy friend told me that in order to find love, I had to approach it like a job search. "You have to put in at least 15 hours a week," she said. I promptly joined Nerve, Match, and JDate, and a few weeks in I was spending 25 hours a week on my quest. My friend asked if I'd met anyone nice, and I realized I hadn't met anyone at all. Nor, for that matter, had I even left the house. Instead, I stayed home and nurtured my commitment phobia: If a guy was less than 6' and didn't love Tom Waits as much as I did, a taller, more soulful specimen was just a click away - yet another person I'd never actually have to meet. So I'm taking an e-dating hiatus. Maybe one day I'll give it another shot. But for now, it's back to the real world. Because, basically, you can't make out with an iMac.
Photo by Izabela Habur
Posted in:
October 3, 2007 12:00 AM by Unknown | COMMENTS
Is one of the three A's: an alcoholic, an addict, or an actor.
Leaves the table to trade some yen just as your sauteed tilapia arrives.
Incessantly one-ups: "Oh, you did Machu Picchu? Well, I just carried my backpack and my sherpa up Everest."
Exhibits road rage. Or rage of any kind.
Wears bigger earrings than you.
Wears sunglasses indoors.
Has ever worn jean shorts
Announces his intent to save himself for marriage.
Mispronounces "pinot noir." (Didn't he see Sideways?)
Sweats like Nixon. laughs like Bush, swears like Cheney, or evades like Gonzalez.
Grabs like Clinton.
Is a vegan.
Asks shady, euphemism-laden questions, like whether you're "420-friendly" or if you "like to play."
Studies every line of a receipt as if it were T.S. Eliot.
Smacks your butt and asks the room loudly, "Can you believe that ass?!"
Thinks Imus was right.
Keeps a photo of his "Beamer" in his wallet.
Calls it a "Beamer."
Has anything by Kenny G, Barbra Streisand, or Rammstein in his iTunes.
Names any part of his anatomy.
Tells you that you look thinner with your clothes on. Or off.
Pauses during sex to check his BlackBerry.
Does two shots of tequila at the start of the evening.
Can't stop talking about his wife.
Posted in:
September 29, 2007 12:00 AM by Anna Jane Grossman | COMMENTS
A few years ago, when a blind date said to me, "Tell me about your great-grandparents," I looked at him quizzically. He shrugged. "I Googled you."
Here's what he likely learned:
1) My great-grandpa was 97 when he broke things off with his 91-year-old third wife-she'd stopped putting out, he said-making him, according to the Guinness Book of World Records, the oldest man ever to get divorced.
2) I cowrote a book called It's Not Me, It's You!, a detailed guide to ending relationships.
3) I wrote an article about cybersex for a popular website that required me to test a dildo that was operated by a stranger via the Internet.
4) I once went on 30 dates in 30 days for a magazine.
5) I've had creepy flirtations with David Copperfield and John Malkovich, both of whom I've written about for newspapers.
Another guy said he would ask me out if he weren't so wary of becoming fodder for my next breakup book. Someone I'd been flirting with on Friendster bombarded me with questions about cyberdildos. Enough, I thought. Love me, not my online profile!
A solution arrived in the form of a young carpenter named Josh. When we sat down for lunch, I laid all my e-baggage on the table, and he was unfazed. A year after Josh moved into my place, I asked him if he had Googled me before we met.
"Sure, but I didn't delve too deep," he said. "I was just embarrassed that you had so many more hits than I did."
Photo by Sami Suni
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