Over this past week I've come to learn that I am very, very smart. Apparently women who drink red wine have more sex and – apparently – lots of sex is good for your brain and makes you smart.* Ergo: me + wine + sex = smart me.
I'm not generally good as such complex logicalising so I must be doing ok. However, I reckon I should enjoy this increased brain function for all its worth now because it's sure to wane after near three months sans sex. There's only so far wine and wanking can get you.
Ah. The life of the uncoupled thirty-something. Read more...
so got the usual litany of you're boring/stupid/meaningless and hope no one ever marries you/you'll never be happy etc etc etc, when, in fact, the convo could've been about whether you think it's better to settle or be single. simple.
gottlieb makes a valid argument for not overlooking partners with names you don't like or who dress funny (which balanced woman passes over someone because they have a funny name or an allergy??) but then says shit like:
Take the date I went on last night. The guy was substantially older. He had a long history of major depression and said, in reference to the movies he was writing, “I’m fascinated by comas” and “I have a strong interest in terrorists.” He’d never been married. He was rude to the waiter. But he very much wanted a family, and he was successful, handsome, and smart. As I looked at him from across the table, I thought, Yeah, I’ll see him again. Maybe I can settle for that.
all i can say to that is: huh? really really?? is THAT how it's supposed to be? gimme a romcom ANY fucking day. i'd rather have a sugarcoated ideal than a wes craven movie gone wrong...