It’s that time of year. Time to feel the pressure to give the perfect gift to the person you love. I have dated some really thoughtful guys, all of whom have managed to at some point give me something really thoughtful. Some of those same guys have also given me a serious case of bad-present face.
I excel at heartbreak. It’s something I experience frequently, perhaps more so than the average person. It’s often times my own fault – sleeping with people I knew I shouldn’t, idealizing complete douchebags as being perfect for me, having a profile on OkCupid. This just skims the surface of the litany of mistakes I’ve made in the world of love and sex. Read More Awkwardette’s Ill-Advised Guide to Getting it On: Be Fucking Nice
My dating life has been rather busy lately thanks to a reactivated online dating profile. Because I have taken many of these coffee dates into boyfriend territory, I’ve developed a list of red flags that let me know if I’m on a date with a jerk. Trust me when I say that 9 times out of 10, ignoring these signs leads to personal misery.
What makes a good date? Surprise, good conversation, a little romance, and some degree of superior making out. A bad date? That’s usually a combination of poor decisions and even worse chemistry. That said, some of my best dates were one-off affairs while some of the worst led to long-term relationships. I’ll leave it to you to guess which ones led to love.
Yes, there is bad date food. Food that should be avoided if you are planning a date or ordering off of a menu. This is a list, compiled subjectively and with only me as a sample, of foods that should be avoided when dating.
I’m bringing back one of my favorite posts this week. Read the magic of dating yourself as a way of upping your self care and amplifying your attraction factor. Enjoy! Read More I’m Dating Myself Again . . . Literally
I used to be convinced that I didn’t know how to flirt. I felt like it was a skill that I was never going to learn, and maybe didn’t want to. Read More Fat Positive Flirting
“Oh, I don’t watch television,” he laughed, taking a sip of his Australian wine. He turned to the waitress, a short Mexican woman in her sixties.”What, exactly, is in this salad?” he asked her. As she listed off the ingredients he requested she repeat herself several times, sighing audibly at her thick accent. Read More Social Terrors: My Worst Date Ever