5 Men Who Can’t Handle Me

January 12, 2012

I’m not your typical girl.  Never have been.  Not only am I okay with this, I’m proud of it.  It’s what makes me who I am, and those who love me are particularly taken with that aspect of me.

I wouldn’t say I’m a tomboy, but I’m also not a total girly girl.  Let’s put it this way, hanging out with any all-female group of more than 4 or 5 women for an extended period (like, say…an hour) sort of makes me break out in hives.  I find the viral videos “Shit Girls Say” somewhat humorous, but usually watch them with a blank look on my face because I personally don’t relate.  Interestingly, though, if ever I were to need back-up in a frightening confrontation, I would most likely want my sassiest female friends with me, as opposed to any of the guys I’m friends with – and that includes the vast majority of all the guys I’ve ever dated.  This is because I tend to become friends with girls who have a mindset similar to mine – i.e. girls who are comfortable with their sexiness, exude intelligence and confidence – and, due to their strong opinions, can verbally shut someone down instantaneously.

When it comes to men, said mindset sometimes works to my advantage and makes me feel like I have magical powers.  And sometimes, it bites me in the ass. Read the rest of this entry »


When Bad Dates Happen to Nice-ish People

April 15, 2011

The other day, a girlfriend of mine was regaling me with the details of a horrific date she’d been on.  It was so horrifying that it was funny, as is typical of a bad date – as long as you don’t take yourself too seriously, which we most certainly don’t.  We always suspect that karma is sending us presents for some of the mischief we get into.

“Definitely my worst date EVER,” my friend said, decisively.

“Well,” I giggled, as I involuntarily spewed part of my martini out through my nose.  “At least you got a great anecdote out of it!”

My girlfriends and I love to discuss, in painstaking detail, all drama that has ensued as a result of our dating disasters.  Sometimes on a date, I’ve actually felt myself waiting impatiently for the end to come, just so that I could speed-dial whoever and recount the gory details.  I’ve traditionally been greeted by disturbed gasps, followed closely by hysterical laughter.

While my friend and I discussed her disappointing rendez-vous, I started thinking back to some of my all-time greatest dating stories, and realized that some of the worst are also the most riveting – and by “riveting”, I mean “a disturbing and entertaining blend of horrifying and hilarious”. Read the rest of this entry »

Poor, Aggrieved Dictators

February 23, 2011

Such long-suffering saints, they’d have you believe.

As protests sweep the Middle East, I, like most people, have experienced a range of emotions.  I haven’t followed closely enough to be an authority on political affairs in that part of the world, but I have paid enough attention to be incredulous and completely incensed that so much of what is happening has been allowed to transpire.  As a Western society, we often speak of how we never want to see another Holocaust happen – and yet all over the globe, similarly evil acts are performed each day.  I won’t get into the myriad reasons to be outraged about this because there are plenty of people more knowledgeable than myself who can comment more eloquently.  I’d simply like to share some of the thoughts that have been swimming through my head as these events – at once horrifying and inspiring – unfold.

On Thursday February 10th, right after Hosni Mubarak deigned to deliver his I-ain’t-goin’-nowhere-bitches speech (and not long before he snuck out of Cairo and had his VP deliver a 30-second He’s-outta-here-bitches announcement),  I felt let-down and sorry for the tired, distraught protesters in and outside of Tahrir square – and then the absurd hilarity sunk in. 

Millions of people had heckled him for over 2 weeks, and this man was so adamantly trying to hold onto the presidency, like a stubborn cat clinging with its claws for dear life to the new plush couch you’re trying to extricate it from.  He was repeatedly told by these same people, in no uncertain terms, to get the hell out.  He chose instead to patronize the protesters and dig in his heels.  It was hard to tell whether he was being obstinate or delusional, but either way, it was starting to seem really, really pathetic.

I had no idea that not two weeks later, Muammar Gaddafi would make Mubarak look downright lucid. Read the rest of this entry »