The day you get a drawer is a monumental day in a relationship.
If you’re lucky enough to have a drawer at his place, then congratulations! For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s likely because you’ve never gotten one (sorry girl). Getting a drawer is when the guy you’re dating clears out all his crap from one (or more) of his drawers, to make way for your lovely stuff. It’s likely come to the point in the relationship where you’re spending nights at his place and staying over all the time, that a ‘travel bag’ and trips back and forth between his place and yours just doesn’t cut it anymore.
Most girls who get a drawer see it as a stepping stone. ‘To the next step,’ we think as we blush at the idea of marking our territory in his place. As we should. Getting a drawer symbolizes his comfort with you around. It shows you that he’s happy to have you around so much so that he’s willing to give up some of his personal space for you. He wants you to feel more at home in a ‘mi casa, su casa’ kind of way. So you guys have The Talk and before you know it, an empty drawer (or two) awaits.
The typical drawer space to get is about two drawers, which I’ve learned in past relationships. The first is the ‘thought that counts’ kind of drawer and the second is the ‘I get that you have a lot of stuff and I’m willing to accommodate said stuff’ kind of drawer.
So what do you put in the drawer you’ve just won in the lottery of love? Well pretty lady, that depends on what your go-to items are during the week. Here are my tips to have a good variety of stuff on call in case something comes up while you’re chilling at the apple-of-your-eye’s place and don’t have a chance to run home:
Comfy clothes: Because we can’t be in a matching lace bra and thong set all the time…OK, well we can, but it’s great to have a pair of sweats and a hoody around just in-case you want to bundle up (in something other than his arms), or in case it’s your turn on call for a Starbucks run.
A LBD and classic pumps: You get over to your guys place and he decides it’s time for a date night? Perfect. No worrying about being under dressed, the little black dress and a pair of classic pumps gives you lots of moving space for various last minute happenings that may emerge.
Skinny jeans, a blouse and a cardigan: Think about packing for a weekend-getaway, blondettes. You never know how the weather is going to be, or what you’re going to do, so you cover the basics and mix and match accordingly. Treat his drawers like your Louis Vuitton travel bag and you’ll be all set.
Lingerie/hot little numbers: It’s always good to have a few ‘pick me up’s’ on hand. It keeps the boy on his toes and if you’re feeling extra flirty (amongst other things) you’ll have these hot little numbers ready for their close up.
The other guys: Perfume, deodorant, a few tampons. Not as glamorous, but still essentials to have on call for all the obvious of reasons.
The drawer allows you to say goodbye to walk of shames (I swear they aren’t shameful, we’ve been together for 13 months!) to wearing the same pair of underwear two days in a row (really?) to being under dressed when a last minute invite comes your way and most importantly, to the uncertainty you had regarding the man in your life’s feelings towards you.
You may not have a ring, and you may not be living under the same roof (officially) just yet, but getting a drawer of your very own is a huge step. So pat yourself on your back, get packing and on behalf of college girls everywhere, congratulations you little minx you!
It’s the perfect Saturday afternoon. I’m lying in my all-white bed, watching Marilyn Monroe in Gentleman Prefer Blondes, in a pair of over-sized, comfy sweat pants. The funny thing is, I don’t know where they came from. All I know is that they are gray, Nike, and they are a men’s large. I look at the tag for clues, hoping to find someones last name written on them so I can Sherlock Holmes my way out of this mystery, but no such luck. One thing’s for sure and that’s that they came from a guys place, likely given to me in the early a.m. hours to avoid the obviously evident walk of shame.
Whose sweatpants are you currently wearing? What is the history behind the pairs of sweats in your closet? Every pair has got a story and I got to tell you, I’m starting to think we are all a part of the Six Degrees of Separation, the sweatpants edition. Please note: The word ‘sweatpants’ can be interchanged with the word ‘hoody’ at any time.
When I realized that I couldn’t solve my mystery, I got out of bed, walked towards my overly full walk-in closet, and went to grab my favorite pair of thin gray sweats – a pair that I can proudly say are my own. To my surprise, they weren’t there. Knowing I couldn’t blame the cleaning lady for stealing them, I started to wonder where they were last seen. Then it hit me. I’d given them to a boy to avoid his walk of shame (also to make his time here a little more cozy then the fitted, how-did-you-button-those-up-in-the-first-place kind of jeans). When I went to grab another pair, I realized the same boy had those too. I sent him a Blackberry message that read as follows: “The sweatpant police called to inquire about a couple pairs of missing sweatpants.” He laughed in typical LOL fashion, and I continued, “There’s a reward if you find them and return them to the rightful owner.” You can imagine the rest of the conversation, but needless to say, rest assured, the sweats will be returned. I had however been alerted by him that he’s been wearing ‘em around for a number of weeks. I’m not surprised. Who could blame him? That is the thing with over-sized gray sweats, anything goes.
I always wore this one pair of sweats of my exes. They were gray, Roots and over-sized perfection. He admitted to me that he got them from a one night stand, and that the girl took them from her brother to give to my ex. I once wore them out to breakfast with him and we ran into the girl. I’m sure she took note. I know I did, and I laugh because I know a guy who is walking around town in one of my former flames sweatpants, and he has no idea.
Now lets discuss choices: I’ve chatted with some girlfriends and we realized that between all of us, we have never been given a pair of NICE pants to wear home. They are always old school not so trendy sweats, something like Champion, Reebok, Nike, Roots or no-name. Do men keep their old ratty sweats around so they can pass them off to a girl without looking like a dick, but without having to see her again to get them back? I’m onto you boys. I don’t want your class of ’99 sweats, I want the goods.
A Saturday activity for the ladies:
- Look through your closet and scope out the blasts from the pasts of clothing. Do you have a pair of men’s boxers, over-sized American Apparel sweat shirts, etc? Why are you keeping them? Do you still walk around the house in his sweatpants, shamelessly? Wear his sweatshirt because you’re just certain it smells like him still (even though its been three months and you’ve worn it almost nightly as if it’s a nighttime uniform?
- Make a list of people who have your clothing, and then from there make a family tree style page of the history of where they originated.
- Spring cleaning anyone? Out with the old and in with the new, bitches. Move forward and rid yourself of the band t-shirt from the guy you hooked up with two years ago. I’m sure there’s a donation drop off close by. Make someone else’s day as you move forward with yours.
I need to finish this off by saying the guy who currently has a couple pairs of my sweats (as discussed above) once had a great idea. He was noticing a pattern of taxing my sweats and offered me money so I can pick up a bunch of sweats for him to have in stock. We thought a Costco five pack. Not such a bad idea when I come to think of it. You can never have too many pairs of the gray sweatpant.
Lying in bed with him ? check. My head is nuzzled up on his chest and overlapping in a good way on his neck? Check. I’m super into him? Check. He’s super into me? Check.
Yes, I do tend to cuddle on occasion. I’m not a hardcore cuddler, and if there was a Facebook cuddle group I doubt I’d be interested in joining, but there are a few men who have broken me in, cuddle wise. In those moments I like it. I lose myself for a minute in the comfort that is someone else. Someone who I actually care about (and am willing to see his face that close up), and with someone who cares about me in a whole we are-emotionally-attached-to-each-other-kind-of-way. I know…heavy. I feel calm and cool, until I realize that my hand is awkwardly resting sandwich styles between our bodies. I begin to notice it as the pins and needles initially strike. Now what, I begin to wonder? I suddenly feel awkward about it and spend a moment plotting where I can move it to in a sexy and dignified, so-unobvious kind of way. But there never is one because there is no damn place for that random arm to go. It just sits there limp between us as we lie facing one another. So after thinking about it for some time (some is an understatement), I mention it to my softie of a partner. I almost feel like I have to mention it to break the awkwardness because he so must know it’s as awkward as I do. Certainly he is thinking about my arm. My arm that is now asleep. My arm that I so desperately want to/need to move for my own sanity, yet I don’t want to kill ‘the moment’.
Have you and your arm been stuck in this dreaded position? Or are you perhaps a more lovey-dovey kind of folk and you don’t even notice the random arm caught between the two of you as you gaze into his eyes, which are so extremely close up (almost too extremely close up) to your face? I’m not going to lie…sometimes I get wrapped up in that moment that it’s almost worth keeping my mouth shut about the arm mixed up in a concoction of being half asleep and half in pain, in order to stay in that exact moment. Awww. I know, I know. Let’s not dwell on this.
Has your man complained about his awkward arm, asking you to move off of him mid-cuddle, complaining of pins and needles? Let’s not take this request personally. In this day in age where hooking up is the norm, the cuddle session is few and far between that many ladies see the cuddle as something to take part in with a partner they feel strongly for, after their buzz fades. That means women are opening themselves up to the chance to read into way too many things, and those silent actions are killers. We totally misconstrue stories in our head always expecting the worst. Face it ladies, if he’s cuddling you and you are sober, he’s probably into you. So when he asks you to move off his arm, realize the random all-revved-up-with-no-place-to-go arm has made a come back, get off his arm almost immediately (because God knows he likely waited a long enough time to get up the courage to ruin the moment and ask you to change positions). It’s not you, it’s not him, it’s the trapped arm that still remains an unsolved mystery in the cuddle department of couples everywhere.
It’s the morning after a night out (and by morning, I mean afternoon). You wake up in a haze, as you place yourself. Instantly, a montage of images from last night creep into your pretty lil’ head. The same head that is aching, might I add. It’s the morning after. You went out last night and promised yourself you’d stick to a two drink maximum policy. But as the second one was coming to a sad and lonely end, you couldn’t resist. What’s one more drink?
Well let me tell you what it is: One more drink is waking up and needing to check your phone in panic, uncertain of who you sent a drunk text to/who you drunk dialed, etc. One more drink is having pictures on your camera (The Hangover style), when you don’t even remember bringing your camera out in the first place. One more drink is pulling a Frank the Tank – sure it tastes so good when it hits your lips – but it doesn’t feel as good when you awake. One more drink is needing to spend a day in bed to recuperate.
I love my bed – especially the day following a night out. I’ve spent many a morning afters in that bed, for hours on end, only leaving to do the basics: get food (to bring to my bed to eat, of course), and washroom visits. But it came with a cost. It has cost me many a days’ where I could have been living my life. I could ‘shoulda, coulda, woulda,’ all these days in a regretful, bitter tone, but I prefer to take the optimists’ way out. Yes, I’ve missed many opportunities to be active and get stuff accomplished on days past. I accept that, and I will move forward knowing that this is something I’d like to change, and am changing, starting today.
How can you possibly go out of your house – let alone get out of your bed – when you feel like absolute head-killing, room-spinning, raccoon-eyed, garbage? Let alone, you can’t seem to scrub that stamp off your hand. I’ll tell you how: They say our behavior directly affects our mood. Rinse off that Debbie Downer hangover in the shower, take some time to do your hair and put on a feel-good outfit, and head out of your house – even just to grab a bite to eat or a Non-Fat Grande Vanilla Latte (with a Venti ice water on the side) from your neighborhood Starbucks. It will get you out of your house, and just going through the motions will make you feel great. This coming from the girl who’s typing these words onto her screen in the corner of Starbucks, hiding between a trendy-looking, messy-hair-hiding fedora. At least I’m not in bed, right?
I’ve run into a few old friends, and have communicated with the outside world. It feels good. I urge you to try it. As you read these words on the screen you may entertain the idea, but the devil over your shoulders will likely chime in ‘Who are you kidding? It’s the morning after. You are not cut out for this.’ Well picture me (fedora and all,) as if I am your life coach. Here I sit, cheering for you to test out this theory. ‘Do it!’ I say, way too enthusiastically for a somber Friday. Running through the actions will make you feel fabulous, and best of all, you won’t look back at your college days in regret, because you’ll know you made the most of them.
Still not convinced? Let me know your hangover go-to tricks to make the morning after not seem like a chore.
“I feel it all, I feel it all,” Fiest chimes in as she sings her catchy tune of the same title. I sing along, finally able to belt it out in a way that you only can when you are reciting lyric’s that ring true to you. I find it so remarkable how much time we spend trying to figure things out and trying to make sense of everything to no avail. Then one day (seemingly out of nowhere) it comes to us in a sort of ‘aha!’ moment. Whether it’s looking back at the past and past experiences, whether it’s looking into the present and why things are the way they are, or whether it’s finally understanding your projections for the future, it is a moment of clarity where you just know. Alas.
It’s as if we are all stubborn blondes, so set in our ways and ways of thinking, that we don’t even give ourselves a break. We are so concerned with analyzing and trying to figure things out so we can gain an understanding, but a true understanding always seems to come when we step away and let go.
A close friend of mine always says “It’s the three T’s in life: Things Take Time,” and I can use his wise saying in reference to various areas and issues. Despite this, I always grow frustrated when I go to him (reciting a monologue of whatever the ‘it’ topic or issue is on my mind) and then get that response. Things take time? That’s all you have to say, buddy? That’s so not what I want to hear. We live in a world of immediacy where we want everything to happen right now (or even a minute ago if that’s humanly possible). Telling me whatever it is will take time seems so cliche. The unfortunite part, however, is that it is true.
Raise your hand if you’ve ever been in a situation where you want clarity in that moment, and grow frustrated with the other person (as well as yourself) when you just can’t seem to reach it? Perhaps you stay on overly-extended phone calls, talking in circles because you just don’t get it. Now put that same hand down if, over time, you saw the situation for what it was? I always say, “Time breeds clarity,” and I strongly believe that. Once you step away from a situation, whatever that situation might be, you stop trying to figure things out to protect your emotions and yourself and you start letting the answers come to you in time.
Our twenty’s raise a lot of challenges, and though we may struggle with them in the moment, as time passes and everything clicks for us, a sense of relief comes. With this relief, comes an inner strength and comfort that makes it all worth it.
- Jenny Jen
Photo found on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eo-tp0JZvUA
Have you ever seen your man cry? Maybe he’s teared up while watching a film, maybe when you guys said your first I love yous, maybe even when he was opening up to you in one of those in-depth, emo conversations we all seem to have when in serious relationships. We were brought up associating masculinity with being tough, strong and resilient. But despite these societal expectations, I really believe that men who cry are more manly. They are taking off the normal day-to-day mask they wear and are showing us how it is.
When we cry in front of someone, we are sharing an intimate moment. We are letting our guard down and are tapping into vulnerable territory. I salute the men who have let tears stream down their scruffy, handsome faces in front of a lady. They say crying makes someone look weak, but I, in fact, think the contrary. It shows inner strength and confidence. This guy is so comfortable with himself, that he is OK letting his guard down in front of you. Damaging his macho/tough/manly reputation doesn’t phase him because he has such a strong sense of self that even tears won’t threaten his ego. If your man is shedding tears, he is shedding them because he feels an extreme trust and comfort with you. He is allowing you into a gray area within him that perhaps, no one else has seen before.
Seeing a guy I care about cry, in turns brings out the water works within me. I suddenly want to reach over and give all the love I have to give; my empathy at an all time high. As it’s happening I realize that me and the guy are sharing a special moment and that I have brought something out in him that he feel’s OK around me to let go and to just be. No faking it. No living a facade.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying the way to my heart is tears, nor am I saying that tears add macho-ness automatically, because like everything else – moderation is key. But I do think it’s sincere when – at the movies – during a heartbreaking scene, that I notice a loan tear stream down the guys face. I’ll never forget, a handful of years ago my brother, his girlfriend at the time and I went to see Pay it Forward. Near the end of the film, my brother and I had the most water-filled eyes and his girl didn’t even flinch. After my bro dropped her off at home, we spent the rest of the car ride gossiping about her lack of emotion being a point of concern.
Crocodile tears are frowned upon. I don’t want a guy to faux cry just to get his way, because that’s just sad in itself. But the men whose tears I’ve wiped off their honest, remarkable faces will always hold a special place in my heart. They are fearless, passionate men not afraid to embrace the sadness and happiness of emotions.
So what do you think ladies? Do you like a man who cries?
I sit in my room as I kick back and relax after a long day. My room is as girly-girl as it gets. It’s lit by a crystal chandelier (on a dimmer, of course), there are more than a dozen throw pillows on my bed (for decorative purposes only, of course) and the ever present, and typical, pretty little picture frames dress my room everywhere from the wall, to counter tops, to shelves.
The picture frame is a staple in girly-girl rooms across the nation. Us girls love filling our room and home with images of our besties, boyfriends and our family. Plus, there are some ridiculously cute/trendy/fun picture frames out there that are insanely hard to resist (“How cute would I look in that?” I wonder, as if it were a new Herve Leger dress, before carrying it to the register). But as the frames sit in my room, time goes on, break ups occur, friendships sometimes sour, and we are left with an image in a frame just begging to be changed. So when is it okay to switch the picture in the frame? At what point do you go ahead and finally make the change? Is there a final straw? Do you throw the old picture out as you replace it with the previous persons, well…. replacement?
There are three photographs in frames in my room that are begging to be changed. For the past few months, I’ve been pushing the change aside, but I’ve been fully aware that it must happen. Out with the old, in with the new. The thing is, the change is sort of bittersweet. It’s acknowledgement that a friendship has faded, and ultimately, it’s accepting that end. The thing with these oh-so-familiar phases of denial, followed by acceptance, is that they are always made easier with a replacement. I already know which photographs I’d like to get developed to fill the void of said pictures. New, strong bonds have been made and are at this point, ready to be displayed. I feel a bit guilty about the change, since it’s the internal knowingness that a few close friendships in my life have been replaced. Something that seems like such a menial task, is, in fact, very emotional.
I like having a a good track record; sort of a who’s who of my picture frames. As soon as I develop the new replacement photograph, I open up the frame and put the replacement at the very front, keeping the old photograph in the frame. I just stack the image behind, and continue to stack images behind the newest photograph I want displayed. I don’t change my frames often, but it’s amazing to see over the years, who you have replaced, and reviewing what went wrong with those relationships and how you’ve grown from them.
My decision to put a specific image in a picture frame in my room is a very selective one. I place images in my frames of people who mean a lot to me, the ones who I don’t see leaving any time soon. The frames contain people who I like to look up at on my wall, surround myself with, and who are positive people in my life. I refuse to put posed, cliche images in my frames. Instead, I choose images that reflect me as a person and the nature of my friendship/relationship to the person I’m with. Pictures are snapshots of who you are. Candid action shots, when the person taking the shot just so happens to catch you in the moment, are the pictures I use to fill my frames. Not only do they say a lot about me, my friends and my family members, but they speak volumes about the person who took the picture as well. Every picture has a story.
Do you put thought into the images you place in frames in your room? Have you gone to a new guy’s place and caught sight of the images he has placed around and then make an opinion of him based on those pictures? And what about when guys have no pictures in sight? Do you label him as shady?
I find it heartwarming going to a friend’s place, and seeing my smiling face gracing my own presence on their walls. There’s a fulfilling nature that comes with this realization that I’ve been selected, and my friendship promoted, in a home other than my Dad’s.
- Jenny Jen
Photo found on http://picsandquotes.com/page/2
Too much information is the reminiscent of a stage five clinger – both having the same effects.
Too much information (a.k.a. TMI) is when you over share information about yourself with others. TMI is when you tell people anything that has the chance of making them uncomfortable and just basic information they don’t need to know.
There are certain things that should be avoided on a first date for the sheer fact alone that they make other people feel awkward. Nobody’s perfect, we all have our own issues and quirks, but when someone doesn’t know you well enough to really appreciate said quirks, you need to limit what you divulge.
Now I know some of my more skeptical readers are thinking “Well shouldn’t you always present yourself exactly how you are and if the guy isn’t into you then it’s not meant to be?” My answer: f*** no. The thing is ladies is that being meant to be isn’t based on the fact that you flossed your teeth in the cab ride to meet your date, nor does it mean he wants to hear about your cramps that have been sneaking up on you all day.
I was recently watching an episode of Millionaire Matchmaker, where a bronzed, twentysomething was picked by both Millionaires for their ten minute one-on-one date. Within these ten minutes she shared the fact that she had an eating disorder (when asked about food) and the fact that it started when her mom passed away. Now I’m not putting down these events that I’m sure drastically shaped her life, but TMI. That is not first date (or third date) material. Both guys ended up admitting that sharing these topics resulted in her demise and they both chose other women.
Let me blonde it down for you. Put yourself in the dude’s loafers and think, if I’m on a date with me, what would scare me away? Ask yourself the following:
Would what you want to share:
- scare you away? If so, keep quiet cutie. He doesn’t need to know about that hair tugging fight you had back in high school when a girl accidentally stepped on your Uggs.
- have you running to then share that information with your friends? You know those guys who tell you a cracked out story and you just know that this story will be one for the books? I’ve had my fair share of them, and my friends have gotten a kick out of these stories, but I don’t want to be the main character of one. If you think that it could be embarrassing, keep it to yourself. At this point all the guy owes you is showing up for the first date, the rest my friends, is up to you.
- make him not know how to respond? A silent nod and the look of empty/what-can-I-possibly-say-in-this-moment kind of eyes is not a reaction you want from the person sitting across from you. Because you know what happens? You then start to give it back. Welcome to a world of the slippery slope of awkwardness and I-won’t-be-seeing-this-one-again assuredness.
- make you uncomfortable and sympathetic? Have you ever hung out with someone because you felt bad for them? It’s not a good feeling and doesn’t put you or the other person in a better position. Let’s ease off on the sympathy. Wait until after the date and put on a Dave Matthews CD to sing along with if you want to feel those grey emotions, but the only track that should play on your initial dates are ones with catchy beats.
Women everywhere felt extreme embarrassment as we watched Wedding Crashers and saw Isla Fisher’s characters insanely clingy behavior. It was just too much, over-the-top and make the other characters (along with us viewers) cringe. Don’t be that girl. Keep it concise to keep it classy.
- Jenny Jen
I sit in a cafe during my lunch hour to write a blog post, and I see a twenty-something outside the window, iPhone in hand, pacing as she talks. Though I’d like to think I could read lips, I don’t think I’d want to right now. She has that tell-all look on her face and I just know what is going on in that call. I’ve had one of those calls before. And I’ve seen them happen many a time to others.
It’s an argument. It’s likely with a partner (former or current) and it doesn’t look like one of those healthy “Let’s wait until I get in from work, honey” kinda talks. Though she’s wearing her power suit, she may as well be bare. Everything is evident; the outfit but a mask to what’s really going on. I want to go over there and tell her to just hang up the phone, to go about her day and let her anger pass her by because, as we all know, it will. See that’s the thing when we’re worked up, when we have something on our minds, when our egos and hearts are bruised, when we feel like we don’t have all the answers we need and when we are playing detective. We don’t realize that once we allow the physiological feelings (rushed adrenaline, ever-so-pounding heart, shakes) to die down, that we wouldn’t say the things we do during those calls because we wouldn’t think the way we do.
We live in a world of immediacy, so when we are triggered by something we often act on impulse, giving into the physiological and not allowing room for the rational to kick in. Dare I challenge you to ‘breathe deeply’ when hit by the ever-toxic trigger? Dare I ask you to let a few minutes pass by as you (attempt) to busy yourself with something else, allowing your body and mind to not go into overdrive?
Don’t feed into yourself. Don’t be that girl. That girl that has to leave the office to have one of those phone calls. That girl that stresses out and creates more drama, when the problem would be way better off dealt with after some time has passed by (and some privacy is allotted).
I remember those girls. Hey, I even remember those guys. I’ve seen them leave dinner tables at functions. I’ve seen them leave their office desk. I’ve seen them step into the other room when we are in a friend’s apartment. I’ve even seen them in a hallway at the Wynn in Las Vegas (isn’t this supposed to be the happiest place in the world?) And what do I remember them for? For engaging in something that is likely some “talking in circles” since no one is effective at communicating when in that state.
So yes, I want the little relationship know-it-all in me to walk on over to little lady out there. I want to take her iPhone out of her perfectly-polished fingertips, and I want to hang up the phone for her and tell her to go to work. That life is short. That this call isn’t worth her time (or his). But instead, as I publish this post, and head out of here to go back to work, I’ll instead hand her my card, with a link to this post. Speaking of which, if you are the she I’m speaking of, let us know if this piece helped and if you so wish you had read it before-the-fact.
The difference between responding, instead of reacting, can save you from embarrassment, regret and wasted time. When we react, we insert verbal stabs into the other person’s psyche. How can there be room for love, when we let our physiology allow us to cause so much hate?
Photo found on http://needyourtime.tumblr.com/post/5110615406/o-problema-nunca-foi-a-distancia-e-estar-ao-seu