Guest Blogger – Y Chromosome: High and Dry

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

I’m tired internet friends.  I am at a very weird point in my life.  You see, for the first time in probably my entire life I am focused almost solely on my career.  It’s sort of scary.  And for those of you who know me, (so like none of you yet?) you know that is a little different than my normal swim through life.

I’ve been in a relationship pretty much from the time I was 15 until I was 20.  Not the same one.  Three of them.  Very involved and intense ones.  I had a short 6 month break or so in there in an incredible attempt at “finding myself.”  As if that’s a 6 month journey.  “Like, no problem, dude!”  (have to think Spicoli on that one..)  I am single now.  SWM!  Wakka wakka?  I have a crush on this girl which is nice.  She’s pretty cool.

I guess the problem I am having is that while I am all for the occasional one night stand or casual FWB thing, I am most certainly more inclined to be in a relationship.  Wait.

Stop. Continue reading


Guest Blogger – 27swf: The Sweet Spot

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

This week I turned 28. And though age 28 often flies under the radar, it’s actually quite a significant birthday: it’s the year that one completes her first decade as an adult.

I started pondering where I am, 10 years in, and where I was, 10 years ago: I’ve got a College and Master’s degree, I’ve had great job experiences, including the one I’m in now, a career I love, wonderful friends, legs that run marathons & hike mountains. I know what foods give me heartburn, how to straighten my hair and how many drinks it takes for me to transform from sweet girl to pool shark (1.5 exactly).

In general, I’m feeling pretty great about who I’ve become.

Except, yesterday, I started thinking about that episode on Friends I saw just about 10 years ago. Rachel and Ross had just broken up (for the fifth time, probably). Rachel realizes she wants to have babies…with a husband…by age 32…and starts counting backwards, only to realize that she’d need to marry someone tomorrow to fulfill her life’s plan (how ironic, given real-life Jennifer Aniston’s own romantic trajectory).

I thought about Rachel and how I’m finally reaching that age — the age at which, ten years in, the biological clock is (whether I want to believe it) starting to tick. Slowly, but nonetheless, moving forward…

I remind myself that I look young and feel even younger than I am. But the hard numbers don’t lie. There are risks to waiting for pregnancy, not to mention articles like this one  that encourage me to believe I’m becoming a less desirable mate, spouse, life partner, whatever with each passing day.

So what’s a girl to do? Cry (in your car, on the phone, in front of the TV). Online date? Or, my favorite, ask your friends to set you up, only to hear them laugh (because they’re married/in a relationship and don’t understand) or reply with the equally frustrating “I wish I was still single — go out! Have fun! This is the best time of you’re life!”

I feel like I’m in the sweet spot of being old enough to know how old I’m not (yes, age 30, I see you giving me the death stare from across the room). But, I’m also old enough to know that I’m young…and that more awaits me…at least I hope.

As I get older, my standards get higher because, well, it just takes a lot more to impress me. Call me an a**hole, but I’ve never been one to settle, and the more accomplished I become, the more unaccomplished people there are below me. At 18, I was happy to be with someone in college, at 21 I was happy to date someone who went to college, at 23, he needed to have a college degree, and a job. At 25, I wanted someone with a college degree, a job, and real career goals. Now, at 28? I’m looking for someone who has all the above…and more. A real salary would be nice too. I see myself getting more picky, all the while feeling like I’m becoming less attractive to the opposite sex.  Most people reading this will say that my cynicism and expectations are making me less attractive. Well, sorry. That’s just how I feel.

Call me crazy. But these days, I just find myself sort of depressed by the whole scenario —

While I may be in the sweet spot, lately, I’m feeling rather bitter…



Guest Blogger – 27swf: Doggy Style

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

For the first time in months, I’m seeing someone. He (let’s call him “D”) is attractive, he actually reads books (ones with more words than pictures) and he’s heterosexual (I live in LA…this is something we worry about). In fact, things are off to a great start. There’s just one problem — the bitch that’s coming between us:

His dog.

Look, I love dogs. Really, I do. Little white loofah-looking things that yip. Big slobbering messes that leave a trail of goo on the coffee table. Purebreed, mutt, I love ’em all. But when I’m three-quarters naked…I don’t really want man’s other best friend joining the party. It’s a little awkward when you and the man are getting to first base…and his puppy is already rounding second (yes, this happened 4 nights ago).

D loves his dog. He loves petting her, whispering sweet nothings into her little floppy ears, kissing her doggy beard.  At first, I thought it was adorable. Look how sensitive he is! Look how willing he is to love! Sure, it bothered me when on our second date, good old poochie had prime real estate on the couch (I bit my tongue as she hogged the sour patch kids). But I didn’t want to rock the boat. I was the new girl… she’d been around the block with him a few times already.

As I lay next to him (puppy between us), I was scared to speak up. It’s too soon to say something, I thought. We haven’t been dating that long. Maybe if I speak up, I’ll ruin what we have so far. He’s cool with the dog being here…so I guess I should just go with it.

Then I realized: I’m not making this mistake again.

In my last relationship, (when I was a youthful 25swf) I constantly worried about ruining the relationship. I let him slip-slide along, never reprimanding him for putting me second. I always acquiesced. I always said “whatever you want, baby.” When he ignored my phone calls, I figured he was doing something more important than talking to me. When he didn’t invite him along with his friends (who were bringing their girlfriends) I figured, he just needed some space. He loved me, but he loved himself much more. He was always number 1…and I silently believed that in order for our love to work, I had to be content with being number 2.

This time around, can’t I be a little more selfish?

So I did said something. I told D that his dog needs to go in her crate. And the crate needs to go in the living room. She’s a great dog, but sometimes, I just don’t feel like sharing the spotlight. And what do you know? He actually agreed.

At 25, I was content to be runner up in order to make the relationship work. At 27, I’m pretty sure that if either person is runner up, the relationship’s bound to lose.

Signing off,


Guest Blogger – 27swf Joins the Party

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

Howdy friends. 27swf here, guest blogger extraordinaire coming to you semi-live from sunny California.

I’m stoked to be on this blog, musing about the death of love, the future of women in film and my beverage of the week (currently obsessed with Yogi Ginger Aid — the tea bags have their own fortunes!)

Get ready for some fun times, folks. 27swf has a pseudonym and is therefore ready to bare it all.