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By Lady Bee, October 3, 2011 6:00 am

I broke up with a serious boyfriend last year. Our relationship was really complicated. Our breakup wasn’t.

When we ended it, we were both of the same opinion that it was over. With initial reluctance, I acknowledged to myself that I was getting less than I wanted or deserved from the relationship. With the honesty that was typical of his character, he agreed. He knew he wasn’t in a position to be what I needed. The breakup was an evolution, and the final decision was mutual and not acrimonious in the slightest.

There were some fundamental cracks that simply couldn’t be papered over. It happens. And it was an unfortunate ending to what had been a mostly good relationship.

When we had “the talk” that ended things, I just wanted to let out some of the feelings that had been brewing for a while. He, on the other hand, was concerned about hurting me and worried that he would lose me from his life altogether. The only thing he couldn’t bear to let go of was my friendship and my presence in his life. He didn’t want that bit to change. He wanted me to stay as big a part in his life as I had been.

He needn’t have bothered with his first concern. I wasn’t shocked or hurt. However, at the time, I wasn’t entirely sure about the second concern. It was naïve to think that things wouldn’t change.

Yet, I replied, “Don’t worry, we’ll still be friends. You’re not going to lose me.” And I meant what I said.

I didn’t want to cut him out of my life completely. And though I wasn’t eager to keep up the same level of closeness we had in our relationship, I was sure we were going to be involved in each other’s lives. At the time, this exact thing wasn’t in doubt in my mind.

On the other hand, I had no intention of investing as much time and effort into our friendship as I had into our relationship. First, I took a breather from him to let the break-up actually take. Then, it was simply a case of putting more effort into other friendships, work, family and every other aspect of my life. I made a conscious choice not to place him in the forefront of my life as one of my more important priorities. He wasn’t my job, one of my best friends, my mother, or my favourite hobby, and his friendship now ranked accordingly.

Continue reading 'My Ex-Boyfriend Isn’t My Friend Anymore'»

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By Dennis Hong, December 6, 2010 6:00 am

Image by minifig via Flickr

I have no problem with the Friend Zone. The Friend Box. Friendship Island. The Vortex of Platonic Optimism….

Whatever you want to call it, I think opposite-sex friends are splendid. They can be an arsenal of insight when we need help understanding, well, the opposite sex.

What’s not so splendid is the opposite-sex friend who desperately wants to be more than friends. Especially when the opposite-sex friend who desperately wants to be more than friends is….

Me.

Oh, how I hate Me when Me gets Myself into that rut.

Years ago, I had a classmate, “Holly.” She had just moved to Southern California, and I was one of the first friends she made here. I think she gravitated towards me because I was already familiar with the city. That, and I also threw parties. Lots of them. If friends were crack, then my apartment was her pipe, and she’d show up at my place whenever her social life needed a fix.

One night, a group of us set aside our rampant partying and went out clubbing instead. Late in the evening, Holly and I found ourselves separated from everyone else. In a fit of drunkenness, we somehow started making out.

Over the next few days, I realized that I wanted to be more than just friends with Holly. So, I did what any rational non-eunuch would do: I asked her out.

Unfortunately, she confessed that while she enjoyed our impromptu kissing session, she wasn’t interested in dating me. Pretty brutal rejection, right?

Still….

Continue reading 'Wasting Away In The Friend Zone'»

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By Meg Pierce, November 29, 2010 6:00 am

Image by BoringPittsburg via Flickr

I jokingly instruct the guys I date that if I ever ask the dreaded question, “do I look fat in this dress?” they should lie, lie, lie.

“Always tell a girl she looks fantastic,” I say to them.

Yet, even the littlest white lies make me uncomfortable. To me, the problem is that a few harmless snowflakes can easily turn into a blizzard of deceit.

My friend “Sarah” met her current boyfriend “Chad” online. She dated him for a year before discovering that he was an entire decade older than what he’d indicated on his profile. Imagine how she felt to discover that, instead of celebrating his 30^th birthday with him, she’d actually bought that sweatshirt for his 40^th birthday.

For his part, Chad was actually relieved to have the truth out in the open. Tweaking every story he told had gotten confusing and stressful. The longer he stretched the truth, the harder it was to come clean, and the more he had to lose. Lying to a girl he’d just met online was a very different story than lying to his girlfriend of a year.

How could Sarah ever trust him again after not only the initial lie, but the chain of fibs that followed to cover up the initial one? Well, age was just a number, she figured after much deliberation. And a mere number was trivial compared to all they had been through and all they had shared. So, she chose to forgive him. Continue reading 'Caught In A Blizzard Of Little White Lies'»

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By Jennifer Hamilton, November 15, 2010 6:00 am

Image by Josep Ma. Rosell via Flickr

I had an interesting encounter with a married friend the other night. My husband, our two-year-old son and I went to dinner at “Jack,” “Jill” and “little Johnny’s” house. They’re friends of ours, and we were looking forward to catching up with them after not seeing them for several months.

I should mention now that Jack and Jill have a one-bedroom apartment, so all six of us were essentially in one room the entire night. You’ll soon find out why this is important.

We were having a great time, and the wine was definitely being enjoyed (more so by the men than by the women and kids).

Out of the blue, Jack gave me a look. You know, The Look. I turned around, hoping that Jill was behind me, and The Look was directed at her. She wasn’t, and it was not. When I turned back, Jack was still giving me The Look.

I brushed it off. Really, we’re all married here, right?

Then, he gave me a hug. Or, in the same vein, perhaps I should say, The Hug. Was that his hand sliding down my back and hovering on that no-man’s-land area below the small of my back, just above my butt?

I discreetly moved away, trying to assure myself that I was just imagining things. Perhaps Jack’s hand had slipped. But then, how many times has a guy’s hand “accidentally” slipped when touching a woman? (Don’t answer that, guys.)

I sat on the couch, next to Jill, and started playing with the kids. This had to be a safe zone. But no. Soon, Jack was also on the couch, in between Jill and me. And I found that my feet and legs were ever-so-gently being caressed. My discomfort was now official. Continue reading 'Is Honesty Really The Best Policy?'»

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By Julie Hartley, November 8, 2010 6:00 am

I’ve come to expect all sorts of reactions when I tell people that I’m dating someone eighteen years older than me. The blood-curdling screams have been (thankfully) few in number, though I usually expect jaws to drop and eyebrows to shoot up into hairlines.

There are also those whose expressions remain suspiciously blank. When their trained smile spreads across their face at just the right moment, and there’s no unconscious flicker of facial features–not even so much as a forceful blink–I know that the rumor mill got to them before I did.

I expect people to find out about my relationship. But instead of just admitting that they know, people treat it like a dirty secret they’re not supposed to be privy to. Um, hello? It’s not a secret anymore. We’re even “Facebook official.”

Before I was dating a man significantly older than me, when I was just normal, seemingly-well-adjusted Julie, it always came as a shock to people when they realized my parents were divorced.

“Huh, that’s funny, I just always assumed your parents were still together,” they’d say.

But after becoming Julie, The Cradle Robbed, people’s assumptions changed. When I mention something about going to visit my dad, now an overwhelming number of people ask, “Oh? Do you have a good relationship with your dad?”

“Uh, yeah, I try to see him when I’m in town. Why?” Continue reading 'No, He’s Not My Daddy'»

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By Rebecca Sullins, October 11, 2010 6:00 am

"You need to grow a pair!"

I’m a bad girl.

I don’t mean that I’m promiscuous, a partier, or a bitch. I mean I’m bad at being a girl. All my life, societal norms have told me that I’m not a good female specimen. And I’m generally okay with the fact that I play pool, own a snake, am an engineer, like sports, and didn’t own a purse until I was 23.

But recently, a much more glaring phenomenon was brought to my attention.

I was at the bar, playing a pool match, and made a quick trip to the bathroom. A friend of mine walked in behind me, with all the telltale signs of a girl who’s about to have a breakdown. I decided it would probably be better for me to stay and see her through.

Like any good friend, I asked her what was going on. And the floodgate opened.

“I’m not good at anything. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“’Splain, Lucy.”

“I just lost my eighth pool match in a row… I drink too much… My boyfriend doesn’t appreciate me….” I’ll spare you the rest.

I sat her on the sink, looked into her eyes, mustered as much compassion as I could, and I told her to get the hell over it. If she didn’t like her boyfriend taking her for granted, why was she still with him? If she was losing at pool, she should either quit or practice more. If she didn’t like the hangovers, she should put down the pint. I told her that there was absolutely nothing in her life that warranted the kind of self-pity normally reserved for terminally ill patients. And even then, I’ve known terminally ill patients who had a less dismal outlook on life than she did at that moment. Continue reading 'True Friends Stab You In The Front'»

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By Danny Braciole, September 27, 2010 6:00 am

August 23, 2010

Rough day for me today.

I stayed at work a little later than I had planned, so I had to hustle to get to the hospital before visiting hours were over. My friend’s father had to have surgery to remove infections from both of his artificial knees. His son (my friend) lives in Georgia, so I went to visit Papa today as his “other” son, whom I’ve been for most of my life, anyway.

Like any normal person, I really dislike hospitals (does anybody “like” them?), so I was already pretty blue just walking out of my office towards the uptown train.

In case you aren’t from the northeast, it was a miserable rainy day in New York City today. My ten-minute walk to Grand Central took me right by an office I used to work at a few years back. Even in urban settings, geography can evoke some pretty heavy emotional weight. And this particular rainy neighborhood reminded me of a girl I used to work with. A girl who was very special to me. A girl whose heart I may or may not have broken somewhere along the way.

I’m sure I was a pathetic sight. But, my unhappy destination, my melancholy memories, and my lack of an umbrella made me feel even worse than I looked. Continue reading 'The Losses I Keep'»

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By Meg Pierce, July 19, 2010 8:00 am

Photo by Wettly via Flickr

Tell me if this sounds familiar. You’re at a party and find yourself talking to a friend’s friend. He seems really cool and makes you laugh, but honestly, you don’t find him all that attractive. Later, he asks if you want to hang out sometime. You agree… hesitantly. Then you make an excuse to leave before he can ask for your number.

Been there, done that? Then, like me, you’ve suffered from a type of romantic tunnel vision, where you lose all interest in hanging out with someone you don’t immediately see as romantic potential.

The problem with this behavior is that we need friends of the opposite sex. They help us see life from another perspective. That guy asking to hang out may be looking for something more, but he could just as well end up becoming a friend.

I go to my guy friends for their unbiased (or sometimes totally biased) opinions on everything from dating to whether I’m too fat to wear a bikini. Unlike the girls who will undoubtedly answer, “no you look great, really,” the guys will give me their honest opinions and often offer a fresh point of view.

It’s hard to explain the differences between relationships with your girl friends and relationships with your guy friends without getting into stereotypes. But it is a unique relationship I’ve learned to value as I’ve gotten older.

The most obvious example? When I need to know all the stats on the new Padres’ pitcher or an update of the Charger’s season, I get my guy friends to give me the Cliff notes version.

But more than just for sports, guy friends can be like cultural translators. Thanks to my brother’s friends for example, I can totally speak “geek.” Continue reading 'In Defense Of The Friend Zone'»

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By Julie Hartley, July 8, 2010 8:00 am

Photo by Kristin McKee via Flickr

When my friend is going through a breakup, it becomes my personal mission to mend her figurative heart. The quantity of chocolate ice cream at the supermarket diminishes noticeably. The local Blockbuster’s angry-girl-loses-guy-but-then-meets-even-cuter-one genre experiences a huge spike in rentals. I have all the right tools to combat my friend’s newly acquired depression….

Except the verbal skills.

Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. My spoon is more of a copper alloy (you know, the kind that turns your skin green after you’ve worn it for too long).

A few years ago, after her relationship had come to a fiery end, my bosom buddy and I sat on her couch while she poured out her heart. I tried to keep my terror from showing on my face. What was I supposed to do? What could I say?

She paused and looked at me with those pleading, tear-filled eyes. I had to come up with something both insightful and comforting. And quickly. Hurry, hurry! What always made me feel better?

“Uh, I want ice cream.”

We asked our readers what’s the worst thing a friend can say to help someone get over a breakup. I’m ashamed to realize I’ve used almost all the clichés out there. Miss Bonnified doesn’t want to hear,  “I always hated him,” while Anna cringes at, “he wasn’t that great, anyway.” I used both of these lines on my friend that day.

Next, I tried to be gentle, telling her that “it wasn’t meant to be.” But those are words that Lauren H never likes to hear. I knew for a fact that she was “better off without him,” but that’s something reader Resullins despises.

FatalFlyingGuillotine sums up the general sentiment on clichés: Continue reading 'Breaking Up Is Hard… For Your Friends, Too!'»

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By Meg Pierce, June 28, 2010 8:00 am

Photo by Marley Musella

One of my pet peeves is the single person who hates being partnerless. Hollywood loves to play up the stereotype of the woman who is desperate for anyone to love her. Sadly, a lot of my friends fit right into this cliché. They hate going to special occasions without a date on their arm. Or they complain about being the only unattached person on the planet, which is how life appears from their perspective.

So, I’d like to offer a different perspective. While I look forward to meaningful relationships in my future, I enjoy dating. Yes, someday I hope to find “the one.” But, in the meantime, I relish the chance to get wild on the dance floor and represent “all the single ladies.”

Here are a few reasons I love being single:

1. Social Currency

How often does anyone ask if there are going to be any nice married couples at the party? I’ve yet to hear it. Instead, my very presence as one of the cute single women (or at least one with a great personality, hopefully) increases the potential fun of any social gathering. Parties have a different energy when people have the possibility of meeting the man or women of their dreams… or at least finding someone cute to talk to or make out with later on. Simply being available increases our value as social currency.

2. Ogling Season

The entire season of summer seems designed with the single person in mind. Surfers out of their wetsuits. Guys jogging without their shirts, and girls in bikinis. Cute neighbors by the pool. Basically, it’s ogling season, and when we’re single, we can look and appreciate without anyone getting jealous. Continue reading 'Seven Reasons I Love Being Single'»