WTF?!
Just when I thought I’d heard of every fear a woman could have, here’s a new one: women who are afraid to eat in front of their guys. I couldn’t believe this was a real thing, but The Daily Mail reported on women who have this exact concern. These women are terrified to eat in front of their husbands and boyfriends, for fear of being perceived as “greedy” or “not feminine” or “unappealing.” That’s what 32-year-old Abi Steel says about eating in front of her husband:
I’ve made a very calculated decision to limit the times we sit and eat together. It’s just so unappealing. I want my husband always to find me attractive, and munching away in front of him is the last thing he needs to see.
[...] Eating cereal is a particular problem,’ she says. ‘The noise is simply unbearable. Corn on the cob is even worse – messily eating with your fingers makes you so unappealing. It’s a relief not to have to eat with Tristan and also that he is happy to dine while I sit and chat to him.
And here’s the worst part — her husband, Tristan, agrees!
In a relationship, what’s the worst thing someone could do to you? Lying has to be up there, right? Take that times a million. Twenty-three-year-old Tucker Blandford, from Connecticut, took lying to the extreme when he faked his own death to get out of getting married to his fiance, 23-year-old Alex Lanchester. Yes, you read that correctly – he faked his own death. To get out of marriage. Extreme, no?
How did he pull this off? Not very well. He and Alex are in a long distance relationship (she’s from the UK, he’s from the US), so he simply pretended to be his dad calling Alex to inform her that he had died. What he didn’t count on was Alex calling his mom. Once his mom heard the fake news, she let Alex know that Tucker was perfectly fine.
Here’s how it went down, according to Alex, via Oddity Central:
I picked up my phone and there was a man saying he was Tucker’s dad. He told me Tucker had been deeply depressed and wanted to die, so had thrown himself in front of a car. The man explained that they had been trying to send Tucker off to a psychiatric unit for help. But it was too late. I couldn’t breathe. It was absolutely devastating.
And once she found out the truth?
He has shattered my trust and I’m not sure I’ll ever be in a relationship again. All I ever did was love him. I’m so sick of being messed around and I’m glad to be rid of him. Looking back, maybe I was naive. But I really loved him and never thought he would go to such extreme measures to dump me. I’ve cried until I felt numb but now I’m just really angry.
I don’t think anyone would or could, blame her. What this man did was absolutely insane.
And when most bitches remember that fact, they do this:
Granted, I also do that when I get a triple word score on Words With Friends. I’m like, “Ohhhhh, Karen gon be mad when she logs into Facebook today. Heeeeeeeey!” Anyway, the point is you’re dancing like that because you’re stoked that you don’t have to go through that exciting yet stressful time of losing your virginity ever again. Like finding that perfect Sarah McLachlan CD to play for mood music or find you’ve lost it for good, DVR’ing her SPCA animal cruelty infomercial, so you can play Angel during the sexy times later on that evening. That’s some super stressful stuff, folks, right? Well, Hong Kong is like, “You know what else is stressful? Your man finding out you don’t have a vacuum-sealed fresh vagina, so he whips out some spray paint and writes the letter “S,” which stands for Slutty McSlut Slut, on your forehead.” So to avoid that nightmare of a situation, Hong Kong came up with the HymenShop.com, which is exactly what you think it is. That’s right, #TeamBlaria, some women are basically purchasing McDonald’s ketchup packets and sticking it up their chochas, as Missy Elliott calls them, to fool their mates into thinking they’re getting a virgin. THANKS, HONG KONG! This is like the dumbest shit I’ve heard in weeks, which means that I, of course, am going to do a full investigation and breakdown of this bullshit. Let’s go!
Portland resident Caleb Grotberg was accused of using his dreadlocks to try to choke his girlfriend to death at 2 a.m. this past Monday night. So, let that seep in.
So, um, some brilliant, brilliant individual has culled the “nicest” guys of Okcupid into a Tumblr. That’s the danger of technology…you put it into writing.
This is how I remember being single: some days were awful like when your roommates used up all the hot water, so that when you’re mid-shower, the water turned ice cold:
While other days were amazing like during rush hour when a MTA subway conductor saw you running towards the closing doors, so he opened them for you and right before you step inside, you let him know how grateful you were:
This is me hiding from you highly creepy but actually kind of creative sexual harassers.
Construction worker to me while eating an ice cream cone on Varick Street, Manhattan, 2004…
“Hey Sugar, lick this!”
Guy in car at a stoplight to me as I stand on the sidewalk, waiting in line to vote in the 2008 primaries, Brooklyn…
“Hillary Clinton is a lezbo and told me she thinks you’re beautiful!”
Four dudes in pick-up truck to 15 year-old, mortified me while trail-riding my horse along the road in rural NC…
“Yeah Baby, ride it! Neighhhh! Giddy-up! Slap it!”
Homeless-looking guy to me after watching me hug my father goodnight after meeting him for dinner, Charlotte, NC, 2005…
Breakups can turn even the most sane of the sanest of all us sanity-ridden sane folks into batsh*t crazy freaks. Just read The Crazy Girl chapter of Dating & Hookup Book.
I, on the other hand, pride myself on being straightforward, unambiguous and (eventually……) friends with (basically….) all of my Exes. And yet. When I “broke it off” with DirecTV nearly five months ago – clearly, respectfully and over the phone – I had no idea that I was in store for a begging, pleading, making-up fest, including almost-daily desperate emails, Paula Broadwell style.
Whether the marketing folks at DirecTV are freaks or geniuses, or both, the barrage of email I have received from them – playing on and playing up – break-up terms is mind-boggling, emotionally unsettling and hilarious.
Image by gitsul.
It’s speed dating for people who like to farm.
“Here’s how it works: Each of the ladies will be assigned to a specific row, with more instructions to follow after “we get you into the beds,” O’Leary said, prompting nervous snickers that erupted into laughter as the tension eased. The women were given a crash course in how to identify a weed versus a vegetable or fruit, and then instructed to pass that information along to the men, who rotated from each bed every three minutes.
“Please don’t pull out our crops. This is a working farm,” O’Leary said before sending them off.
With the dating in full swing, O’Leary moved between the neat rows of lettuce, strawberries, eggplant, zucchini and tomatoes. She said she likes the idea of helping gardeners and people with similar interests find each other. But seeing people weed her farm is also nice.
“I’m not a hookup coach, I’m a farmer,” O’Leary said, her sinewy hands and dirt-incrusted fingernails proving her point.
Phew! Relax guys, you’ll never have to worry about all the problems that come with real ladies again. Sure, virtual girlfriends don’t have lady parts like I do, but then again real sex can be so much ickier and difficult than it look on the internet. And give it time, they’ll fix that user experience. The age of virtual partners is here.
This YouTube video showcases an augmented reality system that, used in conjunction with virtual reality glasses, can project the Japanese cartoon pop-star Hatsune Miku into a user’s life in the role of girlfriend.
In the video, the user and video-uploader Alsionesvx takes Hatsune to the park, where she walks with him and waits for him docilely, her long, fake, blue pigtails blowing in the wind. Then, about two minutes into the video, we see Hatusune in what one assumes is Alsionesvx’s kitchen, where, to show her ability to respond, a disembodied arm touches her lightly on the head, fingers her tie and then…punches her twice in the head.
Around here, we try and be really respectful of the fact that way we develop and exist in relationships is changing at the rate of technology. We embrace change.
But, I seriously don’t know what to say about this. It seems bizarre. But, in a recent conversation with two successful, not weird dudes who play a lot of video games, both men jovially assented: “Yeah, man, I can totally lose 10 hours in Skyrim.”
So, maybe this is just like a walking, talking Sims? Except, embracing change, doesn’t mean blindness regarding the new challenges that arise when things well, change.
Technology that allows men to act out any range of desires from violence to romance on fairytale, submissive women, seems truly dissociative — even if they aren’t the loneliest, most pathetic dorks on the planet.
But then, romance and relationships are proving to be an increasing focus for young men. Women have survived, and we’ve been raised on the relationship fairytale, even though it’s unrealistic. Is it man’s turn now? To be fair, I used to beat up my Ken dolls, too. Only wait, I was nine.
I’m going to go ahead and hold the line on this one. Verdict: creepy.
This puppet is toooooo fuzzy!
Good news friends, are you in the market for a new neurosis? Here’s how to have the perfect vagina.
1. Revoke all traditional insecurities dating back to adolescence, breast size, braces, french kissing technique, bad breath, gag reflexes, virginity. Accept that these are out of date.
2. Watch porn with your insensitive or perhaps slightly misogynistic significant other. Allow him the opportunity to verbalize your thoughts exactly: “Yours doesn’t look like that.”
3. Let it occur to you that if only your vagina was prettier, then you could relax during sex.
4. Know that fake breasts are passe. Delight in your judgement of women who inflate their chest with silicone, saline, etc. See their boyfriend’s True Religion jeans. Avert your eyes from the tackiness. Thank god you’re not those people!
5. Own that the word vagina is an ugly, gross word, and the actual thing is just as icky.
6. Google “ideal vagina” and find out what that is. Measure yours. Debate inside yourself.
7. Wax it, then realize that perhaps a little bit of hair will hide your flaws.
8. Decide labiaplasty is a the best decision. Other people are doing it. It’s the fastest growing plastic surgery in the UK. Really, its something you’re doing for yourself, like a gift.
9. In order to get the whole story, watch this amazing / scary documentary from the BBC called “The Perfect Vagina.” Be charmed by the smart, compassionate British documentary filmmaker who calls your ladyparts “bits,” yet remain unswayed. Rationalize that your case is different.
10. Feel the relief that comes from knowing that your vagina will soon be a delicate, lovely flower.