Amongst some sets, there is a new dating faux-pas to be on the lookout for: astrological snooping. Is this you? Have you done this? Do you have an opinion about this thing that, until very recently, didn’t really seem like a thing?
The most beautifully awkward show in the world right now is Date Night Live, a Lifetime series in which (mostly) single people across the country endure the bliss, uncertainty, disappointment and confusion of a blind date, played out in real time.
Would a first date be improved if you took your clothes off before all the bullshit small talk? My mind and body are telling me “No, not really,” but MTV is telling me, “Yeah, it would, so watch our GODDAMN SHOW.”
Earlier this week a man named Justin took a gal named Lisette out for a date in Washington, DC and the couple fell happily in love! Just kidding; Justin ended up scheduling six dates for the same night and all the women ran into one another, ultimately ditched Justin, and became friends.
Welcome to Dear Jane, Jezebel’s new advice column.
Your desire to spy on other people’s dates without looking creepy is nothing to be ashamed about. Blame natural human curiosity and loneliness.
Recently, a coworker was regaling the staff describing a recent terrible sex dream she had about well-known television personality. The sex in the dream was bad, but still not nearly as awful as we all imagined it would be in real life, probably gentle and sensitive to the point of obsequiousness. “The tender man is…
On Monday night, two women 3,000 miles apart, one deeply familiar with the franchise, the other much less so, watched Episode 2 of Rachel’s season of The Bachelorette separately. This is their story.
This week The Sun reported that Taylor Swift is dating a British rando named Joe Alwyn. Apparently it’s “the real deal.” Sure!
Millions of people exist in New York City only to be ignored in plain sight, to live in our peripheral. Master of None’s sixth episode in its second season captures the spirit of these secondary characters through a masterful set of vignettes about the lives of a doorman, a deaf cashier and an immigrant cab driver.…
I am a hot woman. I don’t have a name because I never needed one because I’m so hot. (Like a lot of hot women, I don’t even have a social security number. Just a card that says “HOT” followed by a series of 10s.) Earlier today, I read (or had someone read to me, because remember, I am hot) the New York Post article…
On Tuesday, the Washington Post dug up a tasty little detail about Vice President Mike Pence’s devout relationship with his wife, Mother (his wife-mother): he will not dine alone with a woman who is not her, and he won’t attend events serving alcohol without her either. It seems like an ultra-safe way to conduct a…
Tinder began as a cute little mobile app that evolved to become a reliably irritating mobile hookup service. Soon though, much like its ancestors OKCupid, Match and even AOL (a/s/l), there will also be a desktop version to service your chronic loneliness.
In 1998, one day after her divorce form Kenneth Branagh became final, Emma Thompson received a call in her trailer on the set of Primary Colors. She answered and heard the terrifying words, “Hi, it’s Donald Trump here.”
As any woman unfortunately knows, with more technology comes more ways to be harassed. In India, the rapid cell phone boom has led to an unintended consequence: Men are routinely dialing random numbers as a way to meet women.
Hey, this is a nice little place. Have you ordered? You sounded pretty upset on the phone. Is everything alright? Ah. So what I’m hearing is that you think I’m cheating on you, is that accurate? What are your sources? My Twitter? I tweeted it? Let me see about that.
The first season I watched of The Bachelor was Brad Womack’s second season, which, given that that was the 15th iteration of the show, made me a relatively late adopter. On Monday night, the 21st season wrapped up, with Nick Viall revealing to the world whether he had picked a woman to marry (which we know is not…
Close your eyes. Picture the least sexy thing you can. It’s a sunburnt puckered asshole, isn’t it? Now zoom out. Further. Gaping pores. A turkey’s wattle. A nest of pissed-upon hay. There it is: Trump’s head.
Every time Jennifer Lopez gets asked about dating younger men, it feels just like the last time she got asked about dating younger men.
Here’s a story that includes an old house in the middle of nowhere, a stranger lurking in the shadows (and not in the friendly Boo Radley way) and a popular hook-up app. It just might be the scariest modern dating story you ever hear...but is it real?
