My 36th birthday column, almost outdated already

Big changes in my personal life, all for the better. Let's just say, I will hopefully actually turn into a book author and a dream realizer by the time I get to 37, in a year and a week. Clearly, realizing dreams and being true to myself is antithetical to dating. Finally learned that lesson, go me! Not to worry, I'll still be writing my column, just will try as best I can not to write about my very thankfully non-existent personal life, and I think everyone will be better off. Birthdays are big times for change, and I'm grateful to be at a place when I'm genuinely open to change, unlike I was this year, where I just spouted utter bullshit to myself and believed it and kept running back to the safety of poor decision making because it was easier than facing the mess that is my life. Now that I have all this time to myself to figure out "what I want to do with my life" it's made me realize how awful I treat myself, and I want to do better. I'd rather be self-actualized than vulnerable any fucking day, but I am still getting "heart" tattooed on my arm in just 16 days! Not burying my heart, just helping it not be idiotic. I'll save the balancing act for the BOSU ball, where it belongs.

Hope you'll check this out - I quote Mindy Kaling! Check out her book, especially the chapters on boys and men, Jewish guys, Matt and Ben, and, of course, cupcakes.



I’m having trouble creating a sexual mission statement, as Friedman advises, because so much of my lust winds up being tied in to what someone else thinks of me, what they want. I don’t consider that entirely negative, but part of my next steps are figuring out ways to combine those two things — what I want and what whoever I wind up dating wants — in a way that’s mutually pleasurable. I know when I err on the side of only pleasing someone else, I do both of us a disservice, because there’s few things less sexy than someone who’s completely needy and subservient (not in the kinky sense, in the everyday sense). I get off on being useful, both sexually and otherwise, but only in the right context, when that aspect of my personality is appreciated for what it is, rather than assumed as a given or overlooked or taken for granted. It’s a sort of maddening part of my makeup because wanting to be wanted and needed isn’t exactly the easiest sentiment to convey. It puts me right back in that sweet spot of vulnerability that always makes me feel like I’m teetering on an emotional precipice. I believe that, like my trainer’s advice when using a BOSU ball, part of becoming a mature adult is learning how to handle that balancing act and not panicking when I tip too far over to one side.

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Listening to a lot of Adele, love her stuff: