When I was 23, I dated a guy because he had a sweet DVD collection. Like, every cool DVD you could think of, he had it – and more. In the first week of us dating, he had a house party where all his cool friends showed up (one of them had a dreadlock), and he strummed his guitar in the courtyard. I got so drunk I had to puke. Continue Reading
Do you remember that scene in Good Will Hunting where Robin Williams’ character, the sweet, wise psychologist, recalls how he met the love of his life? It’s the typical Hollywood bullshit in many respects: guy sees girl who captures his attention, then he pursues her with relentless obsession, which borders on harassment. Continue Reading
When I’m with a guy, I tend to become addicted to his many smells. Because, of course, a man doesn’t produce just one smell. His hair produces one, his neck produces another, his armpits produce another still … and then there’s a whole symphony of smells that he directs, hopefully, towards the toilet. (Fortunately, I haven’t been with any men who pride themselves on the pungency of their farts, but I do believe they’re out there, somewhere, feasting on buckets of beans right now.) Continue Reading
I wouldn’t say I’ve “stolen” things from my boyfriends, as much as I have elected not to give certain items back. Which, yes, I know, is the same as stealing, by the letter of the law, but I doubt that the boys and girls in blue are going to nail my arse for holding onto a scratched copy of Leonard Cohen’s Songs of Love and Hate. Especially if I can explain to them why.
I was forbidden from watching Heartbreak High, which really was deranged of my parents, since there were far worse things I could have been into at 12, like speed, blowjobs or Home Improvement. Continue Reading