Jesus Is Ruining My Love Life
We should all be ready and willing to settle, because nobody is going to be perfect. But we’re also entitled to a few deal-breakers. On the subject of good, available men, single women in their thirties don’t need to be reminded that the pickings are slim. Many of us have accepted that if we want to have a child with a partner — while our clocks are ticking like the bells of Westminster Abbey — we may have to compromise instead of waiting around for the elusive Mr. Perfect. But just how much settling is too much?
Red Lips Can Rule the World
For me, mascara is like underwear. I pretty much don’t leave home without it.
In fact, I can’t think of the last time I stepped out in public without applying some form of makeup. I have no deep-rooted fear of being ostracized by society, or of Equinox revoking my membership, were I to dare bare my face sans maquillage.
Where are the Meat and Potato Men?
The term “manly” instinctively conjures up certain corporeal images in my head: sweaty, peppery armpits; fistfuls of dark, untamed chest hair; large, hairy limbs.
I think rugged. I think strong. I think potent.
Her Tuna Chapter
When I told my friends where I was going to live temporarily, they all had the same reaction: “Where’s that?’’ Even many of my Italian pals have never heard of Isola di San Pietro, or St. Peter’s Island. “It’s an island off of an island,’’ I informed them, feeling quite smug for knowing this tiny, precious chunk of mountainous land off the southwest coast of Sardinia. Here life is lived slowly and quietly, and everything is centered around a plentiful species of fish: the tuna.
Finding Myself Under a Veil
On the occasion of World Hijab Day, I am reminded of the day I donned a veil for eight full hours, which made me realize that freedom from judgment is an underestimated luxury.
Getting the Hell out of Pakistan
What’s happening in Afghanistan this week really hits home. Every time I see the headline “Deadliest Day in Quran Protests,” all that dormant fear re-surfaces and I can barely swallow…
At 34, Am I a Hard Sell?
I recently went to a professional matchmaker in New York City who set me up with a man who’d had a facelift and stared approvingly at himself in the mirror behind the bar the entire evening. When he wasn’t self-admiring or sniffling or licking his lips wildly, he was in the loo. Maybe he just had a bad cold and was poorly self-medicated.
Where are the “Normal” Men?
Sometimes I have a reoccurring conversation with myself. This usually takes place after a particularly disturbing date, when I’m left suspended in disbelief.
It goes something like this: Am I being too picky? I then pause, reflect briefly, and always arrive at the same conclusion: Nope.
Friends or “Menemies”?
When I was younger, my Dad used to tell me: “Boys don’t want to be your friend.” He then left the rest to my imagination.
At the time, I didn’t agree. I thought: I can crack a good joke, I know how to shoot a hoop, and I’m a cheerful person (but not in an annoying way). What kind of boy wouldn’t want to be around that kind of girl?
In Italian, there is a phrase commonly used to describe a man who likes to show off his assets: Un uomo che si pavoneggia.
This roughly translates to a man who likes to strut around like a peacock.
Should We Dumb Ourselves Down?
I was responding to the ol’ “what do you do for a living?” question the other night at some soiree when I stopped myself mid-sentence. It wasn’t the crab puff lodged in my throat that made me come to a grinding halt. It was my dependable little friend, intuition.
Is Being Single Selfish?
“Why would you want to get married? When you finally find a husband, they are A-1 pains in the Khyber*… with the exception of your father, of course.”
Why I Like Older Men
A 60-year-old Russian poet recently made me weak in the knees. This is something that doesn’t happen very often.What is it about older men that I find so alluring?
I’m Not Afraid of Death
I’m very small and sans cheekbones so I resemble a girl-child even though I am a 35-year-old woman with a demanding, grown-up job that makes me wonder what happened to the days when I was virtually issue-less and looked forward to things like menarche or my first Victoria’s Secret brassiere.