Semi-Secret Affairs, Smanging, and the 88 Percent
How compatible — percentage-wise — do you need to be with someone to make it work? 75%? 50%? (And by “make it work” I mean “work toward a long-term commitment that might eventually involve children.”) I know compatibilities can shift and go forward together, too, but I’m curious to know what you think of this math. Or is this a too-chilly way of looking at love?
An Open Letter of Resignation From Sideboob
Thank you for the opportunities for professional and personal growth you’ve provided me with over the years. Who knew that such humble beginnings—roughly 10-30 percent lateral visibility of a single breast, and sometimes two—could become one of the most important news stories there is? You made me feel like I wasn’t just sideboob, like I was really something special.
A Waiter Convinced Me to Not Get a Tattoo
When I was 17 I knew exactly the tattoo I was going to get when I turned 18. It was the best tattoo: delicate yet totally punk rock.
Ask a Clean Person: Toilets, Ovens, and the Importance of Rubber Gloves
How do I wash dishes? How do I clean an oven?
How I Keep My Bleached Blonde Hair Healthy
The thing about bleached blonde hair is that it is fucking ugly as shit. Sorry!! Bleach contains some of the worst chemicals on the planet, I’m pretty sure, and as the name implies it is a powerful stripping agent that, like, petrifies the color out of your strands of hair, or something. I don’t really know how it works. I just know it is dangerous and powerful and you probably shouldn’t inhale it or get it on your actual skin, but that doesn’t stop me from periodically rubbing it all over my scalp for beauty purposes.
How to Feel Competent by Dumping a Lot of Stuff in a Bowl
Do you, too, feel lazy, stupid, talentless, unproductive, boring, and generally like a failed grown-up? I mean, this is totally normal, right? Feeling grossly inadequate is a typical part of the human condition, as I understand it. Nonetheless, it’s nice to take an occasional break from self-loathing, and you can’t drink all day long, but there is one other thing I know how to do that makes me feel briefly like the most competent woman on earth: make muesli.
Why You Can’t Be The Prettiest Girl in the World
A few items from the list of records Guinness says you’ll never see, organized by category.
Quiz: Are You Being Insane About Choosing Your Bridesmaids’ Dresses?
True or false: At least one morning this week, you opened your laptop to see more than one dress you didn’t even recognize staring back at you with longing “Please! Don’t you remember? You told me you loved me. You said we could work it out. I thought you were going to take a chance on me! I know I’m different, I take a little getting used to and maybe I’m not exactly as long as you were hoping for, but look at my price. Just look at it. Why won’t you look at it!?”
Make Your Own Stationery: Pop-Up Cards
Though they can be a bit time consuming, pop up cards aren’t all that difficult, and the same principles apply to all manner of cards. Though the ones I’ve made are all colorful and cheerful, you could also make something a bit more subdued by subbing in white paper (a white-and-red “I <3 U” card would be really cute). Interested? Dust off your X-acto knife, crack open a fresh glue stick, and let’s get started.
The Devil’s Coach Horse, or A Weekend in Bordeaux
One day, back in the late 1980s, some friends of mine in London decided to do me a favor and fix me up with an almost famous British author who was coming to “write” in Paris for a while. They thought it was time I dated someone with more to offer than the dinner check or Chlamydia.
Quirks: Is Their Ignorance Our Bliss?
You know how sometimes people in your life do something habitually that’s so strange/cute, your first instinct would be to tell them, and express how endearing it is, but then you catch yourself because you realize if you told them, they might become self-conscious and stop doing it, or even if they didn’t stop doing it, the action would forever be tainted by the acknowledgement?
Hiding My Secret (White) Boyfriend From My (Bangladeshi) Parents
My parents have different expectations of what my life should be like. Dating doesn’t exist to them. Eventually, they expect me to marry a Bangladeshi Muslim guy of their (and to an extent, my) choosing. I don’t have the heart to tell them that that’s never going to happen. And so, because it’s easier, and because I’m terrified of what the outcome would be, I’ve kept my relationship a secret.
How the Internet Changed Solo Travel
The huge perk to traveling alone is obviously that you’re able to plan your trip based on your whims alone. Want to go to the weird doll museum you read about in a guide book that’s half an hour out of town? No need to spend an hour convincing your boyfriend that it’s worthwhile. Want to skip that Cathedral, even though you KNOW how fundamental it was to the development of gothic architecture? No need to endure dirty looks from your mom. When you’re hungry you eat, when you want to walk for another hour or two without stopping for a snack, you walk.
The Best Time I Quit Drinking
I’d started to black out most nights I drank, but the monstrous shame and daily, low-level hangovers would fade from my memory the minute I felt again that I needed a splash of something to see my mother, go on a internet date, even, on one inglorious occasion, to get my ass to yoga (I do not recommend this).
A Blue Rush: Discussing “Bluets”
The book continues to exert and accumulate influence as readers discover, re-discover, share, and publicly mull over their impressions of this unique investigation into a steadfastly broken heart.
Honesty, Asexuality, and the Un-Recloseting
We recently have been having Serious Talks about our relationship. She told me that she felt under-loved, so I stepped it up with the lovey notes, treats, cuddles, planning dates. She told me that she felt like I didn’t know what I wanted from my life and was changing it to suit her, so I laid it out in an email and asked her to respond either way with how she felt. It’s been a week and she hasn’t gotten back to me.
