tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58662980583876806892012-01-08T12:09:39.095-05:00An irreverent trip down the often rocky road of relationshipsAlison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.comBlogger271100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-88176844970942100132011-10-13T19:01:00.001-04:002011-12-28T19:04:28.173-05:00

The kind folks over at Thought Catalog thought my self-deprecation was amusing enough to post on their site! Gosh! Without further ado... 8 Things You Forgot About Being Single

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-17711855461576058602010-10-12T11:54:00.004-04:002011-03-16T09:22:53.336-04:00

Guys are weird. Sure women exhibit some strange behaviors from time to time – mainly involving beauty tools that resemble medieval torture devices or our propensity to over-analyze everything – but guys, too, have their own freakishly odd yet charming gender-specific quirks if you observe them closely. You know, like primates at the zoo. Here are a few of my favorites: Inside-out

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-15651417490947468182010-10-11T11:45:00.000-04:002011-01-27T15:41:53.789-05:00

There are lots of things I notice first about a man: his eyes, his hair, his overall demeanor.His hands.I know it sounds odd, but I can get an immediate sense about a person just from looking at their hands. Young, old, male, female: doesn’t matter. Strange? Perhaps. But whether you’re kind, hard-working, anxious or romantic, for reasons I’ll never understand, I can tell.When it comes to men,

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-32780927849073883152010-07-27T15:15:00.001-04:002011-02-16T10:54:32.376-05:00

Oh, how I long for the days when men were men: three-piece suits, a firm handshake, that look of gentlemanly awe as a beautiful woman enters the room. Not ordering fat free salad dressing. Call me crazy (and I know you will, Brotha Fred, thanks), but I want to be with a man who is a man. Leave the calorie counting, coordinated socks and manicures to us. I’m all for some gender-bending

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-79031315946971710452010-05-12T10:54:00.007-04:002010-07-26T11:00:03.047-04:00

Noel Biderman says he's not encouraging anyone to have an affair - he's just giving them a place to do it. Since its launch in Canada in 2002 (stateside in '07), nearly six million people have signed up to cheat on their spouses through his controversial married dating service, AshleyMadison.com. Biderman, a happily married (allegedly faithful) man and father of two children, says America's view

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-52776778908436790362010-05-04T14:34:00.006-04:002010-07-13T14:37:41.783-04:00

Guys, I'll admit it. We women are a fickle breed. Play too hard to get, and we think you're rude, insensitive, or flat out disinterested. Too persistent, and you're as creepy as a mustachioed man in an ice cream truck. I do not envy you. If you already have a girlfriend and are in that ooey-gooey "I totally want to marry you" stage, what follows does not apply to you. You're pretty much home

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-42159678272603698572010-03-22T14:28:00.002-04:002010-07-13T14:38:10.770-04:00

In honor of the new book “Undateable: 311 Things Guys Do That Guarantee They Won’t Be Dating or Having Sex,” I decided to poll various members of the male species to see what they consider female deal-breaker behavior. After reading their responses, and getting a few “Save me!” glances lately from men on the street, I’m thinking this may be long overdue. Don’t worry – “Sex and the City”

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-55819561011419085492010-03-05T14:26:00.005-05:002010-07-13T14:27:53.363-04:00

I've been in a lot of relationships. Some short-term, some long-term and some simply way too long, one of the benefits of dating is not just learning the ins and outs of being in a relationship - but also how to get out of one gracefully. I'd like to tell you that there's a secret formula for calling it quits, like taking the square root of the number of relationships you've been in, divided by

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-72971373924206373422010-02-19T14:46:00.000-05:002010-07-13T14:47:40.386-04:00

You lean in closer, mouths hovering for one anticipatory moment as you gaze up through strands of hair sweeping across your face, close your eyes and hold a single silent breath until your lips meet his... slowing, stopping, butterflies. He gently takes your head in his hands, pulling you toward him as you breathe in, knees surrendered, body and arms resigned as if your entire weight is suspended

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-80794564889501241402010-02-05T14:43:00.005-05:002011-02-24T15:58:14.881-05:00

I think I'm done with dating. No, really, check this out: 40 to 50 percent of all first marriages in America end in divorce. Compare that to anywhere from 2 to 10 to 20 percent for arranged marriages, and suddenly I'm thinking more matchmaker, less Maggiano's. In my opinion, a major cause for this commitment catastrophe is that people fail to realize that love is a choice. Not the kind of choice

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-14184358620091150792010-01-29T14:39:00.004-05:002010-07-13T14:40:41.966-04:00

In the immortal words of pop-culture writer, genius and personal savior Chuck Klosterman, relationships are essentially one big power struggle. Whoever likes the other person less is the one with all the power. "The problem is that the situation is almost tragically unbalanced. Inevitably, one of the people has been in love with the other since the day they met, while the other person is either

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-60169800023474103542010-01-27T14:22:00.005-05:002011-02-24T16:04:43.689-05:00

I’ve recently encountered a problem in my pre-marital bliss. One of the benefits of being single for an extended period of time means that I have finally acquired the self-worth necessary to actually adhere to my standards. (Yes, I suppose there are worse problems to have.) And it turns out they are quite… specific. To cut myself a little bit of slack, I prefer to call them “carefully cultivated

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-19157579233994266882010-01-15T14:17:00.010-05:002010-07-13T14:20:30.369-04:00

Despite my need for companionship, I’m generally a fan of doing things alone. Like shopping. (Get in. Get out. Get on with it.) Or flossing my teeth. So when a friend brought to my attention that I had yet to attend a movie by myself, I was excited to embark upon this single-person-rite-of-passage. I checked the online movie listings for a post-dinner showing and cruised up to the theater with

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-36059359436275196542010-01-13T14:11:00.019-05:002010-07-25T16:21:05.614-04:00

I'm going to run a half marathon this year. No, really – I have the shoes to prove it. A pair of one-hundred-and-forty-dollar glorified slippers that will be absorbing the shock of the road and the inevitable shock my otherwise lazy body will feel as it wonders why we're suddenly moving with such haste. Considering my tendency to bail on newfound exercise goals, I shelled out another $90 to run

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-3514609065253400752009-12-02T14:09:00.004-05:002010-07-13T14:11:29.164-04:00

I've always been fascinated by how technology - while helpful in many ways - often interferes with the development of meaningful relationships. One of my favorite classes in college was a philosophy course that focused on solely on this phenomenon. We spent a semester debating quality over convenience, appreciating the advancements of modern technology while simultaneously mourning our culture's

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-42138438380564115182009-11-18T14:04:00.013-05:002011-02-24T16:17:00.475-05:00

A few months ago, I attempted to be friends with my ex. A good amount of time had passed since the split - eight months to be exact - and it seemed I had finally reached the point where we could co-exist and enjoy each other's company without the threat of messy, leftover feelings or blatant bitterness. After talking to him on the phone one evening, he invited me over to check out his new house,

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-52309357741420881072009-11-11T13:59:00.010-05:002010-07-13T14:03:52.766-04:00

If you’ve been following my column, you know by now that I am a serial monogamist. But I am happy to announce, dear readers, that I have since reformed my parasitic ways: No longer do I glom on to the first person with a Y chromosome that comes my way. Dating has always been a foreign concept to me. I typically dive into relationships quickly and with little regard to compatibility. I am

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-45015483049024455392009-09-18T13:57:00.002-04:002010-07-13T13:58:38.206-04:00

Recently it dawned on me that there are entire industries devoted to unhappy women. Think about that for a moment. Millions of dollars directed toward the apparent epidemic of female unhappiness. Almost every comedian has a part in their act about women making men miserable. Women’s magazines scream from their headlines each month about how to "Be Happier, Today!" Television networks make big

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-56362671154918830472009-08-10T13:51:00.006-04:002010-07-13T13:54:07.786-04:00

I have a dilemma. On one coast I have a man I care about who wants me to commit. On the other coast, is a newly independent me who doesn’t want to put her life on hold for someone with whom she can’t have a traditional relationship. Team West Coast’s feelings are much stronger and more publicized than Team East Coast’s. Team East Coast needs more time and shared experiences before her own

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-69699676395732480222009-07-27T13:45:00.016-04:002010-07-13T14:41:02.183-04:00

While I’ve always considered dating sites to be a cesspool of creepiness, I’ve also heard many a success story, so I set out to prove myself wrong. The goal: 24 hours of posting, profile-building and general perusing of some of the nation’s top dating sites to see just who, exactly, is out there looking for love. The result: After a fierce bout of IM-blocking, “wink” deferring and suppressing

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-44098537752731225592009-06-23T13:43:00.007-04:002010-07-13T14:43:03.613-04:00

“What do you want to do, Alison?” I lay there, face buried in the carpet, limbs dramatically flailed at my sides like a crime scene chalk outline. “I don’t knowwwww," I mumbled into the floor. But I did. I didn’t want to spend my final night in town with anyone else, but I had already spent the last three sweetly slumbering in his bed. Fearful that I would be overstaying my welcome, I had

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-22008438711857425862009-06-10T13:34:00.003-04:002010-07-13T13:42:29.966-04:00

Twenty-five percent of my phone bill is text messaging. That’s an extra $15 every month to essentially not talk to people on a device created for talking to people. My reliance on texting stems from my aversion to actual phone conversation, and has even led me to fruitlessly negotiate with my cell phone carrier for a plan with fewer minutes: “But ma’am, you already have our smallest plan. The 200

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-16740636829202459262009-06-02T13:34:00.002-04:002010-07-13T13:42:02.766-04:00

I recently had lunch with an acquaintance who has been married for just over a year. I didn’t know much about her marriage aside from the beautiful photos of her and her husband I’d seen on online. For years I’d caught glimpses on Facebook of their romance – blissful scenes of dating that lead to professional engagement shots and later albums of a picture-perfect wedding and honeymoon. On the

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-43393595005604809352009-05-26T13:32:00.004-04:002010-07-13T13:40:00.363-04:00

A couple weeks ago I did something I’ve never done before: I gave my number to a complete stranger. I’m fairly certain I’ve made it clear that I’m not interested in actually dating anyone at this time, but a “date” is not “dating,” and my waiter at dinner was just too good-looking to pass up the opportunity. It was another low-key Saturday night in the post-accident period of my life. After an

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-45527263539645118832009-05-11T13:31:00.001-04:002011-02-24T16:36:49.073-05:00

I hate TV. Other than my unhealthy obsession with LOST and unwavering devotion to travel writer/personal hero Anthony Bourdain, you’ll rarely catch me watching anything longer than it takes me to finish a bowl of creamy chicken Ramen. (Yes, I realize it might be time to let go of the dorm room staple and graduate to real food.) Due to recent events, however, I have been spending an

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-56204292769127108122009-04-27T13:25:00.005-04:002011-02-24T16:41:08.730-05:00

When I signed off from my previous post, firmly staking claim to the endless possibilities of singledom, I never expected to be writing the follow-up from my bed. But that is exactly where you’ll find me this Sunday, and where I have been for the past week. What literally landed me in this mess was the purchase of a skateboard – a 38-inch longboard, to be exact, with wide-set wheels and a

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5866298058387680689.post-63635714794975170592009-04-21T13:23:00.004-04:002011-02-24T16:47:51.282-05:00

I’m about to tell you something you might find a little shocking. Are you sitting down? OK, good. Here it comes: The editor of Carolina Bride is not married. She isn’t engaged. She doesn’t even have a boyfriend. So WHAT, you may ask, is she doing as the editor of a bridal magazine?! The truth is, even I had some reservations about taking the reins, but they quickly passed once I saw the

Alison Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01833268716565602636noreply@blogger.com0