Relationships
”Dudes Today: The Emotional Conquistador Is The New Sexual Conquistador
I think one of the biggest threats facing sexually-liberated women today is the Emotional Conquistador. It's become blatantly obvious to me in recent months that the power struggle between the sexes is still at play, but because the interactions in heterosexual relationships have shifted—with women taking a more aggressive approach to their sexual satisfaction, and becoming more adroit at compartmentalizing the physical from the emotional—we're now dealing with certain (insecure?) men who still have this innate need to take the upper hand. With the age-old option of sexual conquering removed from the equation, this male faction has been reduced to finding new ways to subjugate women, in order to feel better about themselves. So lately, guys have been trying to talk their way into receiving "feelings" instead of fellatio. Because, at the end of the day, they really want their egos stroked more than their dicks. After the jump, a cautionary tale. More »So It's Not A Jinx To Dedicate Your Book To Your Fictional Future Husband?
Nicola Kraus, one of the authors of the Nanny Diaries just put an end to 33 years of the misery of singledom by getting married to a man. Oh my god how did she do it??? I knew you'd ask! According to Vows:
Last year Ms. Kraus decided to dedicate their latest novel, "Dedication" to her husband. No, she wasn’t married. But she was hopeful. 'I was creating a place holder,” Ms. Kraus, 33, said. “He was out there. I just hadn’t crossed paths with him yet.' She began behaving as if she was already in love. 'You carry yourself differently when you’re not alone,' she explained. 'I would carry myself at a party or a supermarket or a gym as if I was loved.' Then a month later David Wheir kissed her, and she no longer needed to pretend."
Okay, so clearly something about this is bothersome, but what?
More »"I Could Be Writing To Tell You Your Feature Is Tasteless, Promotes Sexism, And Secures Its Readership By Offering Slanderous And Sensationalized Accounts…"
People often wonder what the fallout of a Crap Email is like. We don't often know! This guy contacted us once, thinking his ex-girlfriend had changed her name to Anna Holmes, even though her name was not Anna; when he finally figured out the deal he good-naturedly defended his doghouse-building skills and retreated back into his proverbial own. Truthfully, he seemed really nice, and I felt a little bad. The same cannot be said for "Christopher Davis," the Ayn Rand prostrating author of last week's "I Am, Right Now, Involved In Something More Important," which many of you felt to be the Douchiest Email Of All Time. Here is definitive proof it was not! A tale told in two parts: one note sent to his ex girlfriend after discovering his Crap Email on our site, one sent to us. (And yes, I bought Ayn Rand's journals last weekend and have been crafting a primer on why she is to be avoided. Although that will seem rather unnecessary in a moment.)
More »How The He's Just Not That Into You Guy Actually Helped Me Get Over My (Married) (Strip Club DJ) Ex-Boyfriend
Tormented? Driven witless? 99 problems but therapy bills ain't one? Welcome to "Save Your Life, Cheap!" in which we write about the dumb things that get America's uninsured through hard times. AA meetings, James Joyce, Ani di Franco, suicide hotlines…anything nonalcoholic can apply, the more embarrassing the better. Which brings me to: self-help. In our first installment, Sephora Spy's Loren Hunt reviews the $1 book that got her through the worst breakup ever.
So, it's probably safe to make the baseline assumption that self-help books are not the kind of thing that anyone reads because they think it's cool. For some reason, self-loathing became more inherently cool than trying to fix problems, which would explain the aura of lameness surrounding self-help books: the corny covers, the corny catchphrases, the corny jacket photos, and the corny titles, which are invariably presented in a corny (and really large, readable) font. There are no cool self-help books. Cool people do not write self-help books. Happy people write them. And they could give a fuck who thinks they're cool. And you know who else doesn't give a fuck who thinks they're cool? A 23-year-old stripper who just used up every last shred of self-regard finally "breaking up" with the three-timing strip club DJ she had been fucking for the past year. And that, friends, is how I came to appreciate It's Called A Breakup Because It's Broken, the second offering from Greg Berendt of He's Just Not That Into You fame.
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