What is he thinking?!

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Dear Tuffy Luv,

So, I have a cozy, late-night nookie friend.

We’re not overly compatible in the sobering light of day, and we’re both unusually insecure, so the unspoken rule seems to be every couple of weeks or more. Emails are sporadic and sweet, for reasons that any of you who’ve ever binged on ice cream before or heard the chorus of the Elliott Smith song “Ballad of Big Nothing” will know.

I disappeared this summer, so falling back into a routine feels like navigating the bumpy straits of first acquaintance all over again. We’ve only seen each other three times this fall, but a few weeks ago, maybe moved by birthday drinks or the card that I sent him, he sent me an email telling me to barge in whenever I felt like it. Read More »

A friend sent me this post last week and asked me what I thought about it. Being a very sarcastic (and witty, if I do say so myself) person, I got scared. And embarassed. An angry. “Yeah, cuz this loser knows what he’s talking about.”

Woops; that was just more unfeminine sarcasm.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the strong opinions the author held and wondered if they were his alone, or if all the men I have ever liked (and not dated) felt the same. Do guys find women who are sarcastic unattractive? Is sarcasm the unibrow of a woman’s personality (hence the photo)? I asked a guy: Read More »

I did the most daring thing today. I purchased my very first bikini since I was 6. For many of you, this sounds like nothing worth merit; but for me it means a lot.

I’ve always been The Fat Kid who was constantly teased because my thighs were bigger than everyone else’s.

Even after puberty blessed me with hips and boobs to help evenly distribute my weight (thank you, puberty!), my big girl classification never left. In fact, it still dangles over my head as a constant reminder that I’ll never be small. I still never feel 100% comfortable in anything I wear and – despite having several flings and one serious boyfriend – the thought of talking to a guy makes my throat close up and my heart beat like crazy.

Instead of obssesing over my weight, I recently decided to learn to live with my curves and stop cursing them (even though I would like to change some things about my body for health reasons). While putting away clothes at my job at a retail giant I came across a gorgeous solid indigo bikini with with crystal accents. I couldn’t put it down. I just had. to. have. it.

So, I did. Read More »

Three nights ago, as I’m spooning in bed with my ex-boyfriend/current fling (the lines are a little blurred), he, out of the blue, drops a line that no ex-girlfriend ever wants to hear spoken about herself: he called me crazy.

I was speechless. Everything had being going rather well all night: I looked super-hot, we were flirting like mad and we had just engaged in a no-fuss, delicious two-hour romp on his blow-up mattress, resulting in the big “O” for both parties.

And then he had to go and ruin our post-coital snuggle session with the dreaded “C” word.

Now, let me set the record straight. This is definitely not the first time a male in my life has called me crazy. Everyone from my dad and brother to my high school gym teacher has felt the need to express their opinion about my level of sanity.

I can’t deny that maybe, they were right to drop the C-bomb. Let’s just say that high school was rough for me. I was involved in a serious relationship, which led me to act like a serious fool. I yelled really loud, pushed really hard and generally caused extreme amounts of unnecessary stress for everyone involved in my life. But hey, I was sixteen, riding high off the fumes of sweet adolescent hormones, and I didn’t think – I just DID.

Of course, douchebag ex-boyfriend heard all the juicy details of my teenage drama during our first year of dating. I mean, if I had to endure all the pain and horror – it was only fair that I pass it onto him, right? (Note: I realize now this was a huge mistake and that some skeletons really are better kept in the closet – forever.) So, after I got upset about a girl attempting to kiss him in front of me after a little too much jungle juice, he decided it was time to break out the one insult he knew would cut straight to the heart. Read More »

Single White Female was a creepy film for a reason. If you haven’t been fortunate enough to see such a classic, then you perhaps you wouldn’t be able to see the signs of IDENTITY THEFT when a “friend” suddenly becomes a mime.

It’s natural for friends to take on certain personality traits from spending so much time together. Similar phrases are shared, personal style melds and becomes less personal, and dislikes are much more likable if your BFF sings its praises and persuades you unwittingly while doing so. Those things are natural.

So when I complained about having my personality hijacked by a close friend, a much more forgiving friend advised that, “Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.”

Well, I think that’s bullsh*t.

Imitation is scary and frankly, quite annoying. Buying the same bag, not a big deal. Asking where I purchased my shoes (which, yes, are AMAZING) totally understandable–I was just lucky enough to find them first. Saying “word” just like me every time I mean to say “yes”, understandable (yes is overrated). Getting my same hair cut (bangs included) after saying you’d never be able to pull it off, IS ANNOYING. Plagiarizing entire paragraphs of my stories, my jokes and my soul, is just straight vexatious. Read More »

I spent a good portion of my life being single. Maybe it was the few extra pounds (like 100) I carried around as a child or the big bangs I sported until my freshman year of college (and they were NOT trendy then), but I blossomed a bit later than others when it came to the dating game.

I don’t want to admit this – especially on a website read by quite a few ladies nationwide – but I did spend a good deal of time curled up in my bed in front of romantic comedies crying about the fact that I had never found love. Or staring down other couples wondering why they found each other and I remained alone. I may or may not have even perused the local pet store for the perfect cats to accompany me on my lonely journey through life.

I questioned what was wrong with me. Read More »