After much heartbreak, confusion, hours of searching through self-help books, and crying with my friends, I have realized that finding a man is not at all hard to do.
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After much heartbreak, confusion, hours of searching through self-help books, and crying with my friends, I have realized that finding a man is not at all hard to do.
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if you are feeling dissatisfied and confused in your love life, wondering where all the men are, why other people get their happy endings and yours keeps eluding you, it would be a worthwhile activity to sit down and retell your love story.
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We’ve all heard it, and most of us believe it, but it’s simply not true. Just because something is exactly what you want does not mean it is a curse in disguise, going to slip through your fingers, or that you are deceiving yourself about what you are really encountering.
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He comes out of nowhere, gets what he wants from you, and then disappears again. It’s like when I want to make a dress. I get out the pattern and use it to make the dress. I know exactly what I’m going to get because it’s a pattern. Once I’ve made the dress, I put the pattern away until the next time I need it.
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Our breakup isn’t good or bad. It just is. And my making the breakup about me rather than just seeing it as yet another impermanent part of life is what is really causing me to suffer. I know I said a few posts ago that I didn’t take the breakup personally. And I really thought I didn’t. But obviously I did. Very personally.
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I think women should spend their twenties having fun, kissing boys, doing your thing, and that the thirties are for marriage. You should never get married until you have stayed in your own apartment—no parents, no roommates, you can come home, sit in your bra and panties in front of the fan.
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Mr. C and I broke up…again. It’s like the saga of Carrie and Mr. Big–without the rich, fabulous life in NYC part. And believe me, I will not be dragging out any relationship drama with anybody for 10 years–or anything close to that. One of my good girlfriends asked me how I found the courage [...]
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My mother is a Jewish white girl from Delaware and my father came to the U.S. from Hong Kong as an immigrant med student. In the south, in the 70’s, when my mother tried to sign a credit card slip as “Mrs. Chan,” it got her arrested for fraud. No one would believe she was married to a Chinese man, and when she was out for a stroll with her Asian-featured babies, strangers at the mall always asked where she got us. After 20+ years of marriage, theirs recently ended in divorce.
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I have three copies of Karyn L.anghorne Folan’s book Don’t Bring Home a White Boy (read my glowing review here) to give out to three lucky winners! I’ll be giving out copies of the book in three different ways, so you have three chances to win one!
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I’m a black, Muslim man dating a white, Jewish guy. Yes, I’m in an interracial relationship, but as a general principle I’m against them.
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