Comments (3)

By Musings on Life and Love, January 16, 2012 2:57 pm

Looking for advice on your love life? Need help crafting an online dating profile? Or maybe you just enjoy talking about dating and relationships?

If so, then we’ve created a new site just for you!

Lets face it. Love is complicated. We believe that questions on dating and relationships are just too complex for any one person to have all the answers. So, instead of offering feedback from one single self-professed expert, we’re creating a community where people can help each. Our goal is to offer advice seekers as many perspectives as possible and let them decide for themselves what works.

Of course, we also realize that not all advice is created equal. So, we allow people to rate each other on the quality of their advice. Those who are most helpful can build up a reputation, which they can then use to promote their own site or services.

In this way, advice seekers get help from a community of real people, and advice givers are recognized for their efforts. Think of it as crowdsourcing relationship advice, but with the added benefit of being able to rate the crowd!

If this sounds like a community you’d like to join, check out our brand new site, LemonVibe!

PS: We created the site from scratch based on the features that people seemed to want the most. Please bear with us if there are some bugs we still have to fix, or if some features aren’t fully functional yet. We will get everything up and running as soon as possible, and we hope this won’t deter you from participating. See you on “the other side!”

Comments (3)

By Dennis Hong, January 9, 2012 6:00 am

Do you remember learning about self-esteem in grade school? When they teach you to stand up for yourself in an assertive way? To speak up when someone doesn’t give you the respect that you deserve?

As it turns out, that’s only half the lesson. Because they certainly don’t teach you how to respond when someone gives you respect that you don’t deserve….

I went to happy hour with a friend one time. It was still early, so there was only one other customer sitting at the bar as we walked up. The bartender was deeply immersed in conversation with this guy, and as we waited for her to serve us, I couldn’t help but overhear their entire conversation.

Apparently, the bartender had gotten sick a few weeks ago and was worried that she had an ear infection. But, she didn’t have any medical insurance, so she didn’t know what to do. As the other guy nodded along sympathetically, I thought this was sort of a strange thing for a bartender to be telling a customer.

Maybe she knows him? Maybe they’re friends, and he’s just here to chill with her?

Finally, the bartender noticed me and sidled over. I ordered a round of drinks and handed her my credit card, telling her to keep the tab open. She glanced at it and then, somewhat unexpectedly, said this:

“Oh hey! Can I ask you a question?”

I furrowed my brows at her sudden eagerness.

“Umm… sure?”

“Okay, so I got sick a few weeks ago….”

And she carved a screeching u-turn right back into the story that she had just told the other customer. As I sat there, listening to her kvetch about her ear, I began to wonder if this bartender just had a case of oversharitis.

Continue reading 'It’s Okay, I’m A Doctor — It Says So Right Here On My…'»

Comments (10)

By Jon Shellhammer, December 25, 2011 6:00 am

It’s another Sunday in the National Football League. With just over a minute left in the game, the home team is down by three points. The ball is on the 20-yard line. 60 feet from the goal line. 60 feet from victory and glory. At this point, most coaches wouldn’t call for the quarterback to take off running with the football. Quarterbacks, after all, are hired to throw the football, not scramble around with it. Then again, most quarterbacks don’t have the ability to weave through an entire defense and cross the goal line almost untouched to score the winning touchdown.

But that’s exactly what this quarterback does.

So how does this quarterback celebrate his game-winning scamper? We might assume that he, like many NFL players, would do some ridiculous dance, thump his chest, or yell obscenities at the defenders he just ran around.

But most NFL players aren’t this quarterback. This quarterback, after being mobbed by his teammates, points two fingers to the sky and drops to one knee to say a prayer. In a league filled with egotism and celebrations of selfish pride, this man credits all of his abilities to God.

Tim Tebow of the Denver Broncos is often criticized and rarely praised. Is it because of his unorthodox throwing motion? Because he runs too much and throws too little? No, it is none of those things.

Tim Tebow is criticized because he is a born-again Christian and not afraid to talk about it. People are quick to say that Christianity doesn’t belong in the NFL. People are quick to say that his faith flows out of his football, and the two should be separated. People say God doesn’t care about sports, and to believe that He does is ludicrous.

Continue reading 'Does Christianity Have A Place In Professional Football?'»

Comments (57)

By Rick Allan, December 12, 2011 6:00 am

Every now and then, I’ll take a girl home who might not be my #1 pick of the night, but maybe she’s really enthusiastic or just knows how to play the game. Inevitably, we’ll have the “I’m not looking for anything serious right now” conversation, and things will go smoothly for at least a few weeks (and by “smoothly,” I mean our interaction is strictly limited to me calling her when I’m drunk and horny).

Things go smoothly, that is, until she starts breaking the rules.

Rules? What rules, you ask?

Good question! Why, the rules of booty calling, of course.

Now, it’s not a big deal if she breaks one or two of the rules, as the damage can be managed appropriately, and hurt feelings can still be minimized. Occasionally, however, a woman will seemingly make it her goal to break every single one.

Linda was one of these women. I met her while out on a typical Friday night. She was cute. Nothing special, but the more I drank, the better she looked. She played the game just enough to keep me interested until we went home together.

The next morning, we ran through the motions: “I like you, you like me”… “I’m not looking for anything serious”… “neither am I”… and so on. I made it clear that this was going to be pretty casual for me. And she seemed to be in perfect agreement.

But it didn’t take long for her to start messing it all up, as I received the following text a few days later:

“Are you on facebook ”

Oh, look, the first rule….

Continue reading 'The Ricktastic Guide To Proper Booty Call Etiquette'»

Comments (13)

By Dennis Hong, November 29, 2011 6:00 am

For the past few months now, I’ve been contributing guest columns on Dear Wendy. By no means do I consider myself a relationship expert, but I do believe I’ve been through enough personal drama that I can offer some pretty good insights. Plus, helping people gives me a warm, gooey feeling that’s way more slimming than hot fudge.

Of course, my dry sense of humor tends to seep through in my responses, and I often end up somewhat mocking these letter writers. But really, I do try to be helpful. One thing I respect about Wendy is her ability to tease out the important details in a letter and respond accordingly. Sometimes, she’ll rail on a letter writer, but only because she realizes that they need a kick in the ass. It’s clear that she’s here to help, though. And help she does, even when she’s doling out the tough love.

And this is where the problem arises. You see, tough love is tougher to dole out than most people think….

In the most recent letter that I answered, the letter writer described a nasty fight that she and her boyfriend got into at a bar, in front of all his friends—a fight that resulted in her “throwing a couple knees towards his manhood.”

Yikes! Definitely inappropriate behavior, right?

She went on to clarify that she and her boyfriend had made up, but all his friends now thought she was crazy. She asked how she could possibly fix things with his friends.

I explained how childish both she and her boyfriend had acted, and that they might want to consider taking anger management classes together. I also expressed my shock at her kneeing her boyfriend in the balls. I knew she had a tough road ahead of her, but I offered what tips I could hock up to help her come to an eventual understanding with his friends. As a joke, I even suggested that she let his buddy punch her in the ovary as restitution.

I thought I was pretty harsh, but I also believed that I answered her questions fairly.

Boy, was I mistaken.

Continue reading 'When Ordinary People Turn Into Trolls'»

Comments (18)

By Dennis Hong, November 7, 2011 6:00 am

"It's over, man. Let her go."

I don’t do running.

That is to say, I don’t do running when running is the only thing being done. Running in flag football, floor hockey, or settling of drunken bets? That, I can do.

But… just running? Like, the ancient Greek death sentence known as a marathon? Crap, no. I’m decent at sports that require quick bursts of speed, but pretty much fail at anything that requires endurance. Marathons and I go together like marriages and Kim Kardashian.

Every so often, though, I do decide to improve my endurance. So, I start hitting the treadmill at the gym. And every single time, my utter lack of endurance starts taunting me at around the ten-minute mark. Fortunately, I’ve learned to take that seething frustration and wad it up into a tiny burst of determination to keep me going.

But then, I traveled to Taiwan last month, and I found out that I have a Dutch great-great-grandmother, from whom I inherited a genetic disease called thalassemia minor. Even though it’s not deadly, the condition causes my red blood cells to produce abnormally low levels of hemoglobin, the protein that transports oxygen. What this means is that my blood cells can’t provide my body with adequate oxygen, especially during heavy exercise.

Now, I could be melodramatic and say that my world came crashing down when I found this out. But that’s not what happened. My world didn’t collapse. It was more like my world cloudied up and started drizzling (but in a permanent state of gloominess, like Seattle). There wasn’t even any one moment when I felt the big epiphany.

I actually found out that I had thalassemia almost two years ago. However, my doctor was so nonchalant when he diagnosed me that I promptly forgot all about it. I didn’t even make the connection when my dad gave me the news. And it wasn’t until I was at the doctor’s office a few weeks ago that I caught the word “thalassemia” on my medical record and remembered my previous diagnosis.

Continue reading 'Losing My Motivation'»

Comments (2)

By Wendy Atterberry, October 31, 2011 11:24 pm

My first visit to New York was in the fall of 2004, a month before the presidential election. I came to visit my then-boyfriend who was here for a few weeks doing a rotation for med school. Exactly three years later—almost to the day—I moved here—this time, to live with Drew, the man I’d been cross-country dating for the last year and a half. We moved to Brooklyn in June of last year and by fall, I felt at home, finally, nestled on our little tree-lined block, ten minutes from Prospect Park. I spent many a late summer and fall afternoon riding my bike along the park loop, just as I had in Central Park before that and the lake front in Chicago before that.

I do my best thinking on a bike, and last fall the topic I pondered the most was motherhood and when I wanted to have a baby (Drew had already made it clear he was ready whenever I was, and the sooner the better). You can’t live in Brooklyn and not think about parenthood. I once heard someone describe this borough as having an aggressive presence of babies and that’s exactly right. To put it in perspective, I started a new moms’ group in my neighborhood a few weeks ago, anticipating an isolating winter ahead if I didn’t make friends with other women having babies, and in less than a week I’d connected with 15 other new mothers (or mothers-to-be) within five blocks of me. In fact, in the last two weeks, five of us have given birth (all to boys!). That’s a lot, right? I mean, for a relatively small urban neighborhood?

Anyway, my point is: you can’t escape babies in Brooklyn—at least, not in my part of Brooklyn, and so, on my bike rides last fall as I passed countless women carrying their infants in Ergos and Byorns and Moby wraps, I thought a lot about when I’d want to have my own little mini me (or mini Drew). I went back and forth and back and forth, afraid—petrified, really—of making a definitive decision. What if it turned out I couldn’t get pregnant? What if I could? What if it took a really long time? What if it happened right away? Every scenario seemed really fucking scary, and as much as I wanted to put off the decision-making indefinitely—and all the decisions that would inevitably stem from this one—I was 34 and knew the clock was ticking.

Continue reading 'Thoughts From A Two-Week-Old Mother'»

Comments (6)

By Jennifer Hamilton, October 24, 2011 6:00 am

Photo by Instant Vantage via flickr.com

My husband and I have a German friend, Gunther—late 30s, good-looking, smart, funny, and a genuinely nice guy.

Of course, he’s single.

A few weeks ago, we were hanging out together, pondering his romance woes over a few glasses of wine. But it wasn’t the preposterous fact that he was still unattached that lingered in my mind. It was an observation he made based on his visit to San Diego a few years ago.

“I think it must be difficult to make friends with a woman in the United States,” Gunther said.

Immediately, I became skeptical. What exactly did he mean by this?

Gunther explained: “My friends were out of town for a few days, so I went–alone–to a bar for a drink. There, I struck up a conversation with a woman. We talked for a while, and at the end of the night, I walked her home. She wasn’t my type, but I enjoyed her company, so I asked her to meet me the following evening at the bar.”

I thought I saw where this was going. So, I asked, “Did you buy her drinks?”

Gunther couldn’t remember, but admitted that it was a distinct possibility.

He met the girl the next night, walked her home after a few hours, and again asked her to meet for drinks the next day. By the third night of seeing each other, after they got to her house and he started to leave, she became angry.

“What’s wrong with you!” (According to Gunther, this was not a question). She followed up her statement with some colorful language and a few choice accusations. Naturally, Gunther was offended. But that quickly turned to bewilderment.

“What was her problem?” he asked us.

My husband and I shared a look and giggled.

“Third date. Sex,” I explained.

Continue reading 'Desperately Seeking The Friend Zone'»

Comments (18)

By Jennifer Witt, October 17, 2011 6:00 am

From the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew I had to have him. I figured he had to have a girlfriend. But he asked me out, and I didn’t even think about my boyfriend back home, 700 miles away.

The reasons I cheated were many. Distance, lack of sexual satisfaction, pre-existing lack of trust, excitement, a fear of being alone, and an inability to end a relationship all contributed to my indiscretion. I also fell in love with the other guy. Not that it makes what I did any better.

For a while, it was perfect. In the Big City, I had a smart, successful, connected, sexy Dream Guy parading me around like a trophy. And back home, I had my boring but safe boyfriend (just in case it didn’t work out with Dream Guy).

My tryst lasted two intense months, with another weekend rendezvous three months later. Yet, we lived hundreds of miles apart, so the end was expected, natural, and painless. Or so it seemed.

Back home, I still fantasized about Dream Guy. I was also constantly wracked with guilt. Not a single day went by that I didn’t consider confessing. I never did, though, because I couldn’t face the pain it would have caused my boyfriend.

A year later, I moved back to the Big City, this time permanently. And I couldn’t wait to see Dream Guy again. My boyfriend wasn’t able to join me immediately, so I had several months to rekindle my romance with Dream Guy and break it off with my boyfriend. Dream Guy and I ended up working in the same office, and it didn’t take long for us to pick back up where we left off.

Except this time, he had a girlfriend. I was still tormented by guilt and started second-guessing myself. Was it really worth going through this again if we were not going to work out? One mistake I could rationalize, but two? Dream Guy began to get frustrated with my indecisiveness, and every time we’d start to get physical, I’d freak out and change my mind. I was asking him to put his relationship on the line by seeing me behind his girlfriend’s back, but I’d never go all the way or break it off with my boyfriend and commit to him.

Continue reading 'Once A Cheater, Never Again A Cheater'»

Comments (12)

By Catherine Gryp, October 10, 2011 6:00 am

There it was, at the bottom of the tan purse I never wear: a grocery list from another life.

Toothpaste

Frozen dinners

Diet Coke

Ice cream

Cheez-Its

Oatmeal cookies

I haven’t thought of buying Cheez-Its or oatmeal cookies since the day I moved out of your house. This list was pre-breakup.

A year ago, finding this list would have been devastating. Alongside this list would have come tears, regret and hurt. This slip of paper would have been a painful window into a world where I was part of a “we” who were planning to get married and live happily ever after.

Today, this list is simply a reminder of my past. I feel nostalgic, but not sad. Pensive, but not overwhelmed. And I throw the list away.

I’m (almost) over you.

I’ve created this timeline of my life. There’s pre you – the years until I was 18. There’s you – 18-25. And then there’s post-you, my life after canceling our wedding.

I’m realizing that post-you are some of the best times of my life. I like who I am post-you more than I’ve ever liked myself before.

I’m (almost) over you.

I don’t think of you as often as I used to. In fact, this is probably the least in my adult life I’ve thought about you. Since we started dating when I was 18, it was all you, you, you. I liked you. I loved you. I worried about you. I cared for you. I thought about you. With you, I had some of the most romantic moments of my life. You, you, you.

And then it all came crashing down. You hurt me. You lied to me. You caused me pain. I was angry with you. I couldn’t bring myself to forgive you. I missed you. I yearned for you. I wanted you back. But I didn’t want you back. I wanted my old life with you back. You, you, you.

Continue reading '(Almost) Over You'»