Have you met my husband? Eh-hem….Have you met my SECOND husband? Well, neither have I. But I have learned some valuable lessons through dating, heartbreak, and singledom that have made me wiser, stronger, and more prepared for the moment when I finally “exhale.” I am in no rush to meet him (in my convincing-myself voice).  I have been cheated on, lied to, heart broken, served papers…you get the idea. I have also had years of butterflies and excitement and visions of weddings and babies. Hell, I have actually had a wedding. And 3 babies!  But I have yet to meet the one. Each romantic experience from adolescence through adulthood, be it painful or joyous, has led me closer to this notion of romantic wisdom. I have spent most of my life chasing “unconditional love” and the warm, secure and fuzzy feeling that I imagine comes with it.  I have worked…

I’m strongly convinced that one of the ugliest habits that women as a majority posess is the constant need for competition. If you’re a woman and you’re nothing like that, congratulations and please teach us your ways, but we can both agree that every rule has its exception, which doesn’t mean that my statement isn’t true.

One way to open this topic is to adress the trendy “joke” that has been going around quite a while, which is the famous “me vs your ex girlfriend” post. I have a very advanced humor and I wouldn’t say I get offended easily, even if I do find the post somewhat offending, I mostly choose to ignore it. However, as a feminist, I do dislike that joke. It contradicts with everything that women should be standing up for. It contradicts with equality, respect, love … To sum it up: it contradicts with feminism.

I want you to care

I want you to feel something when I talk you

I want to mean something

I want to mean enough

So that when I talk

It fazes you

It makes you feel hurt, angry, happy or excited.

Please feel something

All I’m getting is cold vibe

Please

Please

Let me effect you

The way you destroy me

I’ve just watched Spider-Man at Westfield London and oh my god is it a great return to the big screen for Spidey.

I really liked how this movie focuses on his high school life and how he struggles to balance his teenage life with going around helping people in the neighbour hood. One thing that stood out to me is the range of situations Spider-Man found himself in. They were all “petty” crimes but it’s not like every night you’ll see machine gun wielding baddies in the streets – which is a pretty common depiction in a lot of Super hero movies. It’s really fun, he helps an old lady with directions, stops a bicycle thief and even prevents a man from breaking into his own car! That was hilarious. It just shows how his intentions are good but at the end of the day, he’s still very inexperienced.

His…

While it’s all very noble or something to attempt to commingle the sexes in a platonic manner for this generation’s sick need to disprove the thesis statement of When Harry Met Sally, it gets to a point of parody when “men” have so many female friends that it starts to look vaguely like a harem of vestal hens just hoping to pounce on the rooster at the center of it all when his guard is down. But it’s not their fault for feeling this way. It’s only natural to start to catch feelings for someone you share an emotional and intellectual connection with.

Ergo, the “man” who, for whatever psychologically fucked up reason, decides to frame his universe solely with women as though to make one giant cluster of a super female to probably sub in for his mother or some such cliche, is really only doing them all…

To be a mother is no easy feat. The days are long, the nights are short. Your clothes are probably covered in excretions from a tiny human. You don’t eat much, but the little ones never miss a meal, or a snack. Your clothes are typically dirty while theirs are clean. To be a mother means that you’ve probably lost yourself somewhere along the way.

It means sacrificing one thing after another to ensure that your children are more than taken care of. Then there’s times were all your hard work can’t keep them happy, because you wouldn’t let them play in the dogs water bowl or eat another ice cream cone. You know just the little things that really piss kids off.

There are days were your kids sprout little horns as if they are the spawn of Satan. Then at night when you tuck them in and read…