I’ve spent most of my blogging existence documenting my quest to fall ridiculously, inconveniently, and agonizingly in love. So does this mean you’re settling if you simply just love someone? First, we have to consider what being “in love” even means, but I assume it’s different for everyone. Even Google didn’t have a succinct answer. Common descriptors however, included words like: yearning, uncontrollable, infatuation, and obsessive. For me, being “in love” in the past fel
Do not fall in love with a woman’s smile, and then get mad when people smile at her. Do not fall in love with a woman’s laugh, and then get mad when someone else makes her giggle. Do not fall in love with a woman’s humor, and then get mad when she tells a really, really good joke. Do not fall in love with a woman’s wittiness, and then get mad when she outwits you. Do not fall in love with a woman’s beauty, and then get mad when someone else admires it. Do not fall in love wit
I don’t know much, but I do know about a woman’s love.
Obsessive, even. But what I know even better (unfortunately), is a woman’s hurt. It’s knowing that something is off, but not being able to pinpoint it. Feeling him slowly pull away and knowing it’s just a matter of days, but him saying nothing is wrong. Questioning anything. Noticing everything. Then, fighting with your instinct
When I was younger, a co-worker I looked up to advised that I never ask the universe for a man to love me as much as I loved him. Reason being, a woman’s love is just so selfless. So vast. And so unwavering, that even if a woman loved a man just a “little bit”, it would be equivalent to a man loving a woman “a lot”. Ultimately, a woman’s 5 would be a man’s 8 on the love scale. At the time, I knew it made sense and secretly, I agreed. But I wanted to be “fair”. I was and still
Some of you may have watched this Red Table Talk episode featuring the women of the Curry family, but my bet is more of you have seen articles, memes and tweets in response to it. Specifically, the backlash Ayesha Curry’s received from it. I highly suggest watching the interview before reading further, but below is an excerpt from it: “There are all these women throwing themselves [at him],” she said. “The past 10 years, I don’t have any of that. I have zero male attention. I
In “The First Week After A Break Up” here, I wrote about the mundane routine one naturally falls into post-heartache. But as we all know, heartache is just one of the stages we experience. Below are a few other stages we’ve all been through. Bonus points if you’ve been through all of them. The Hobby Phase.Yoga. Plants. Dance. Piano. Gym. Rumble. Soul Cycle. Orange Theory. Barry’s Bootcamp (can you tell I live in SF?). Name a new hobby, because you’re about to dive head first
The other day Jey asked me, “You ever have those moments where you’re reminded of why you’re with someone?” before praising his wife. Thankfully, I do. I remember having a really tough week at my previous job. Granted, I hated the place and my boss treated me like shit, so every week was a tough week. But it was an exceptionally tough week. I was reaching my boiling point, and was on the brink of quitting without having a new job lined up. My patience was non-existent, and I
Once or twice a year, me and my gay meet up to partake in what I’ve newly dubbed as the 5×5: 1 drink each at 5 different bars. Last Friday, over mezcal at Iron Horse in SF, I noticed a man and woman leaning against the balcony behind us. From bits of their conversation, body chemistry and gestures, I inferred that they weren’t on their first date but they also weren’t quite a “couple” yet. They were in that in-between transition phase where you’re trying to figure things out.
While perusing Instagram the other day, I came across a photo of a man I knew with his new girlfriend and my heart stopped for a split second. It had been years since I experienced that twinge of anxiety in the pit of my stomach, yet it felt just as vividly excruciating as I remember. Why did I even feel like this? I never dated this man, I barely knew him. We didn’t exchange kisses, or funny faces we made for only each other, or inside jokes, or memories. Yet, I felt that fe
Starting at a very young age, I practiced the mantra “Chicks before dicks” and always chose my friends before my boyfriends. Was there any other option? They were there for me before, during and after every beautiful disaster. I followed this even when it wasn’t always reciprocated. In time, I learned that this was the norm, this was life and I accepted it. The other day I got notice that my best friend’s birthday dinner was rescheduled to a night I had already made plans wit
I never thought I was good at giving advice. I started this blog years ago to simply share stories. My stories, your stories, her stories, and his. Along the way, I was able to help people. Help people laugh and cry, but most of all, help people know they were not alone in both their tragedies and triumphs. Although I had “relations” with men during the nearly 8 years I’ve had this blog, I was single for most of. And during those single years, I created some of my best work.
I watched it happen. I watched as the cracks spread through her body like heroin flowing through your bloodstream. It started at the tips of her toes and fingers. The same ones that texted him, “I want doughnuts” and then did the walk of shame from his car to her front door the next morning. The cracks spread to her arms and thighs, the same ones that were tired from fighting herself and running in the wrong direction. I stood there and did nothing as they spread to her brain
Because the sex is good. Because we’re dumb AF. Because we don’t want to be alone. Because we hope that things will change. And finally … Because the heart wants what it wants. Logic over love (or our cloudy, twisted depiction of it) isn’t as logical as we make it to be. If it were that easy, we’d be making good decisions all around and this blog wouldn’t exist. When you’re emotions are involved, it’s not as easy as picking between a pair of Louboutins that you want and a new
I stared at my phone for almost 30 minutes before I finally sent the text. I took half an hour going back and forth with myself, adding and subtracting letters to what would finally end up being a measly 3 word sentence. The second I sent it, I could feel something punch me through my chest, reach down and tear out the little dignity I had left in the pit of my stomach. And let me tell you, there wasn’t much left. A minute or so later, I heard a ping and saw a familiar number
After impatiently waiting for all my favorites shows to come back into rotation, I gave in and started watching Power. It’s not great, but I can’t stop watching. Maybe it’s because I could look at J.R. Ramirez any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Whatever it is, I’m currently almost done with Season 2. The manfriend came over the other day just in time to catch me finishing an episode. In an attempt to summarize the show, I broke it down like this: It’s a show about drug
When your heart is broken, your first response is to mend it. This can be done in several ways. For some, it’s going out with your girlfriends. Putting on your favorite freak’um dress, drinking one too many drinks, and dancing the night away somewhere you know your fine ass will be seen and word of how fine you are will get back to the ex. For others, it’s unleashing their inner ho. Reactivating your Tinder account, swiping right, and actually responding to those you match wi
This year I want to go to Iceland, Cuba, Hawaii, Bali, and Thailand. I want Invisalign and lash extensions. I want to finally eat at French Laundry. I want to take a dance class. I want to start bikram again. I want to redecorate my room. I want to punch inconsiderate people who lack common sense in the face. But I need to save money. For my mom’s bachelorette party. For a new car. Shit, for life. I need to meal plan. I need to stop taking Uber to work. I need to give less fu
i try. i think really hard about it too. all these bridges, and i still can’t get over you.
i don’t even need to try. it’s right there in front of me. our future failures, the reasons we can’t be together. the reasons we aren’t together. i can’t talk to you about things. i can’t talk to you about anything. at least not without second guessing myself. first. without feeling judged. without wondering if i sound stupid. without holding back. i tell myself you are not for me. yo
Warriors fan or not, you know who Stephen Curry is. And if you’re an actual fan, then you are also familiar with his spunky daughter Riley and God fearing wife Ayesha. While Riley emerged a star last season due to her sassy post-interview cameos, more recently Ayesha has been taking social media by a storm for being … herself. This should be a good thing, but it’s actually had the reverse effect for some. While Ayesha is a woman many of us can look up to, her existence has ca
A while ago I read an article about the importance of calendaring. As an Office Manager, I am obviously about that life. “To do list by themselves are useless,” it said. As someone who has yet to cross off a single item on my summer bucket list I can attest to this (learning how to swim can wait another year right?). However, I’m old school and always will be. While my Google calendar looks like the last moments of a losing game of Tetris, I will always refer back to my Daily