I've never really thought seriously about this question, but it became something that I wanted to answer after rewatching a scene from La Vie en Rose. Near the end of movie, Edith Piaf meets a journalist on the beach for an interview. She's asked a variety simple questions, one of which is: "what is your favorite memory as a woman?" Piaf responded with, "my first kiss."
Half way through August, as a last minute attempt to try and find love before the end of summer, I made a JSwipe account (the Jewish version of Tinder). I'd be lying if I said it was my first time on the app because I've had at least four or five previous unsuccessful goes at it, but I promised myself that this time would play out differently - it did.
A few nights ago I found myself lying in bed finishing up homework with my eyes barely open. That's when I got texts from two of my best friends saying that they'd just met each other's significant others. Naturally, I asked for their opinions on the encounter, but I couldn't help but wonder - was I not invited because I'm single?
I'm going to be honest, I can't remember the last time I was at the gym. I cancelled my membership after I realized that I was simply lying to myself - I'm never going to have the Candice Swanepoel booty. Instead I've opted for long walks with friends, because shit talking and walking just makes moving so much more fun.
I don't blame myself for my lack of motivation to go to the gym, and you shouldn't either.
There is nothing that makes my friends more valuable than being able to deliver gossip to me. I consider myself the Don Corleone of shit talking, and so I almost expect something juicy in the group chat at least once a day.
Fact: The best gossip raises my blood pressure and the greatest gossip is able to cure my deepest of mood swings.
It’s awful actually that people can get so much pleasure from hearing about something good or bad that happened to someone else. But at the same time nothing, and I mean nothing brings people together more than a common enemy.
But does finding pleasure from shit talking make you an asshole?
Image via The Examiner. In this picture you are witnessing the ladies getting ready for some juicy gossip.
The people who know me well, know that I’ve watched all six seasons of Sex and the City too many times. Throughout high school, as a way of compensating for my nonexistent love life and emotionally unstable personality, I lived vicariously through Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte. At times, I felt like I was part of the lives of the four gal pals, and I learned more about sex by watching the show than the bullshit that was taught to me in grade nine health class.
But one famous line that Charlotte York said has always stayed with me.
MAYBE OUR GIRLFRIENDS ARE OUR SOULMATES AND GUYS ARE JUST PEOPLE TO HAVE FUN WITH?
Could Charlotte be right?
Remember in Sex and the City when Carrie starts dating Aidan and doesn't understand why he doesn't want to sleep with her after a few dates? You probs don't because I'm the only one who's still obsessed with the show. Anyway, Carrie realizes that Aidan doesn't want to have sex with her right away because he's a romantic, and wants to wait for everything to be just right. But do these hopeless romantic men still exist outside of fictional TV shows?