I once had a roommate in college who shunned the usual terms of endearment – the babys, the sweeties, even the pumpkins – and instead affectionately dubbed her boyfriend “Pooper.”  He, (because really, how does one top that?), also called her Pooper.  Did I mention they said it in baby voices?  They did.

Ew?

Yeah, yeah, a rose by any other name and all that.  I get it.  But really ... POOPER??

Continue reading "Terms of Endearment" »

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Personally, I would prefer that the men I date think of me as a nice-smelling robot – incapable of peeing, farting, burping, menstruating, sweating, or, yeah, #2.  And honestly, I’d be quite content to think the same of them.

It’s not that I’m against bodily functions, per se.  I suppose they have their purposes - toxin excretion, gas discharge, uterine housecleaning, womb regeneration, that sort of thing.  I just don’t think they have a place in the tenuous and judgmental world of dating.

That said, there comes a time in every relationship when the reality of being a living, breathing, and yes, excreting animal becomes difficult to avoid – particularly since most NYC apartments lack extra bathrooms and soundproof walls.  But how long until you can relax your, uh, “standards” in front of your significant other?  Or should you ever?

Continue reading "Bodily Dysfunction" »

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Continue reading "Matchmaker's Mark" »

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I’ve been on all sorts of dates – some cheap (Queens!), some definitively not (St Barths!).  But as any veteran dater knows, it’s not the total outlay on your black Amex that makes a date extraordinary.  A bargain outing can seem extravagant, while the most expensive can be downright trashy (like the guy who showed me the bill for our super-pricey dinner because it was a “weird” number – $666.  Classy!).

So you can’t (or don’t want to) compete with some private equity guy’s tickets to the Met and helicopters to the Hamptons?   No worries!  Amir Blumenfeld, Ethan Trex and Neel Shah, the three twenty-something rouge authors of Faking It: How to Seem Like a Better Person without Actually Improving Yourself, have brainstormed solutions for just you, you cheapskate.

Continue reading "ShoeString Theory: How to Fake It 'Till You Make It" »

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From the trailer of NBC’s new reality dating show, Age of Love:

“These 40-year-old women have experience, confidence and sophistication. But what if they had to compete with a group of 20-year-olds to win the heart of one of the world’s most eligible bachelors? Will he pick a kitten or a cougar?”

Nothing like a little high-concept reality TV to start off the summer!

Continue reading "The Age of Sex" »

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Expert, n.: a person who has a comprehensive or authoritative knowledge of or skill in a particular area. Or, someone who says they do.

Much to my amusement, I’ve been the “expert” on a variety of subjects (including Paris Hilton, presidential politics, American Idol and the Wii) about which I possess little expertise—much less “comprehensive or authoritative” knowledge. I’ve never even seen the Wii, dammit! 

I’ve also been called a relationship expert. This, on the other hand, I am.

Continue reading "Defend Yourself, Julia!" »

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At the beginning, I found it romantic—the wine, the candles, the very tiny artichokes in our salads. But after a while, the meals started to blur together. And then, I realized I had not only gained 15 pounds (a solid 15 pounds), but the very idea of ordering $28 salmon made me long for a sandwich from my deli and a night alone with my TV.

I had overdosed on dinner dates. I’m still detoxing, in fact. And I’m not the only one.

Continue reading "Let Them Eat Shoes! The Case Against Dinner Whoring" »

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To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time, by Robert Herrick

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
Tomorrow will be dying.

I'm not usually one for quoting 400-year-old poetry, but I have to give it to Herrick – he knew whereof he spoke.  Except for that whole "virgin" part (and, well, the use of "ye"), seizing the romantic day is about as modern a sentiment as anything – particularly in Manhattan on the cusp of summer.

Continue reading "Gather Ye Rosebuds, Bitches!" »

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