Fox published a story entitled "The Perfect Man Exists -- On Video," in which it suggests the DVDs -- or VHS tapes for just $9.98 -- might actually be the next "logical step for frustrated singles seeking love and coming up empty."
Once I quit going out with guys I knew I was never going to connect with, I realized that what I want is intimacy and comfort. I want appreciation. I want a fun challenge. That's where The Big Spoon Search came in.
Most of us, at some point in our lives, have heard a great piece of advice about love. Perhaps it's something from your mother or father, a grandparent, a mentor, a friend, something you've read -- a piece of advice that has stayed with you and has helped you find love.
First dates can be wonderful. At the very least, you usually get a good story out of them. A delicious brunch, a happy hour drink, or even a walk in the park can all lead to a lovely time. But unlike a casual lunch, some first dates should be completely averted.
Honestly, is it all that bad or are we just holding onto the notion of how bad it is as some sort of mangled, spit-soaked single girl security blanket? As in, it's not my fault I'm still single: insert links to various It Happened To Me stories here.
For just one night he lived in my world and I, in his.
Almost everybody I've come across who's over 50 and was going through their first divorce said adamantly, 'I will never get married again.' A few years later, I've been to the weddings of many of those people. After you've been through a divorce, it takes a lot of soul searching to make any post-divorce relationship a permanent one.
Hearing someone else's hotel sex can be frustrating, but your orgasm was so festive, I found myself cheering you on. And then you had that great cry after. Was it a real sob?
This city is my Enchanted Cottage. If I don't get another man, well, I tried, and in any case I still have Man-hattan.
When women are young, pert and perky, sexual attention is as omnipresent as alcopops. All we have to do is don a micro-mini, slick on a glossy smile and prepare to ride a tsunami of proposals. We're given a false sense of confidence, living life as though we have been cast as the leading lady in an Impulse ad.
Why aren't you engaged yet?Really? Like, am I supposed to be engaged already? Because last time I checked I was 25, broke, and drunk.
My generation's expectations of romance are way off. We've grown up watching the prince rescue the princess. Now we're watching The Notebook while scanning profiles online.
Remember the last time you were gossiping on the phone with a friend or the last time you were unusually judgmental? Your teens are paying attention and will be happy to point out how what you say and do aren't consistent. Be careful.
I posit today a bold hypothesis that we will explore in the aforementioned life stages of its main player, Amore peribatus. I will buffer arguments with my personal observations on the field, both amplified and hindered by the constraints and embellishments of my own memory.
These days jokes about my sexuality hardly bother me, but the ownership that many women feel they have over it most certainly does. Let's dish! (I'm thinking my new catchphrase will really help reinforce my masculinity.)
Love a wild one. Let her bewitch you, entrance you, bedazzle you, seduce you, mesmerize you, enchant you, and let her free you.