Domestic Violence Awareness Month is dedicated to shedding light on domestic violence as a human rights issue, as well as on the various forms it can take and how to seek help when in such a relationship.
It’s a peculiar feeling to look ahead and see so many unlived days yet simultaneously believe there isn’t enough time to greet those days wholly.
Dating is hard enough by itself and having a chronic illness adds an additional level of complications. So yes, I’d like you to accept my normal “crazy girl” stuff, but I also need you to understand, accept, and deal with the chronic illness I face everyday. That’s a super awesome elevator speech for dating if I’ve ever heard one (…by the way: sarcasm is required when you are told you have a joint crippling disease at 18).
I’ve been on a lot of dates, mainly for the free food and drinks, and I have learned that your special someone is going to love you for you, chronic disease or not. The shiny fish I will eventually find in this overwhelming ocean of options will get over the days he has to carry me to the bathroom or let me cry on his shoulder. But for your laughs and my therapeutic writing experiment, here are some of my favorite quotes from guys I’ve dated in reaction to finding out about my chronic illness.
Recently, I was out to dinner with a friend when the woman at the table next to us next to told the waiter (very loudly) that her daughter wouldn’t be interested in dessert simply because she had both bread and pasta and “prom season was coming up and she would thank me later.”
This time of the year, there is a special emphasis on celebrating your significant other. Whether it be through flowers, chocolate covered whatevers, or a sappy Instagram post, people are encouraged to tell those they love exactly that.
This time of the year can often make people who aren’t involved in romantic relationships feel like they’re missing out on something. How can it not, when a lot of the media that we digest is central to the idea of who is dating whom, which person got kicked off The Bachelor this week, and the best (worst), #RelationshipGoals? This inspires many to seek companionship by means of online dating apps, like Tinder and Bumble, to find “the one”(…that you can tolerate for at least a little bit before things get weird). Like all things, there’s an art to dating apps, and it’s one that I’ve never quite mastered myself. Thankfully I’ve got a couple friends who have cultivated meaningful relationships via the World Wide Web, and they’ve been kind enough to share their Dating Dos and Don’ts with us.
I was wearing nothing but socks, a thong, and a Spider-Man mask. My focus intensified directly on that back door. I saw it in my sight, but just barely… running, running, running, SMASH! The back door was locked. Panic arose—my raw skin frosted by the air-conditioned convenience store. I went to spin myself around, but my legs and the floor were in the midst of a harsh disagreement. I heard lots of yelling…but my thoughts were yelling louder.
“You don’t have the balls to streak.”
“There’s no way you’ll streak.”
“You? Streaking? Yeah right.”
New Year, new you, right? …Probably not. In my experience, resolutions only last until February, and (usually) that’s okay. But this year feels different. In 2016, I graduated college, broke up with a long-term boyfriend, interned at my dream job, started a new full-time position in New York, fell in love again, began a hellish commute, and have been sick more times than I can count. Needless to say, when December rolled around, I was a bit exhausted and ready to revamp my life in the new year. The first week of 2016 has taught me a few things, most of which come down to the idea that everything takes time. A friend of mine shared an article the other day about a man in Indonesia who claims to be 146 years old (though it has not yet been verified); he says his secret to longevity is, “just patience.”
A few weeks back, I wrote my post about getting a replacement IUD. Here I am, on the other side of the procedure and, boy, do I have a lot to share. Only, that is, if you want to hear it. If you’re particularly squeamish or simply don’t want to read about my reproductive organs, move along. If, however, you are considering the copper IUD or are simply curious about my experience, I present, without further ado:
The Crime Scene in My Pants, Part I of II