Valentine’s Day attaches strings and materialism to an important emotion
Whether perpetually single or happily married, each of us has our own thoughts on Valentine’s Day.
Whether perpetually single or happily married, each of us has our own thoughts on Valentine’s Day.
It’s been years since I’ve dated. If you dropped me back into the dating scene, I wouldn’t turn cool, confident, and desirable; I would become feral, become the creepy guy at the club, or become a loner who waits around until one of my other single friends calls me up to hang out.
Falling in love has never been more complicated—we’re working in the difficult Netflix-and-chill era of dating, where vegetable-themed emojis are easier to interpret than facial expressions and ghosting is more ubiquitous than a Kardashian-Jenner at a Lakers’ game.
We consider it the oldest profession, but such a claim creates an illusion that what is happening now and has been happening since the dawn of men and women is okay.
Behind closed doors, it doesn’t matter what two people do. Regardless of who’s home or where you are—as long as it’s private—people deserve their privacy.
When people think of intimacy, often the corresponding image is a sexual one. However, this doesn’t account for the very real experiences of people who don’t experience sexual attraction, who are sex-repulsed, or who are simply choosing to remain abstinent.
Looking to put out something a little extra this Valentine’s Day? Sick of cooking the same old romantic dinner that you do every year?
I am very happily in the midst of a relationship—not to sound like a braggart, by any means.
Haven’t been listening to your significant other much? Meh, it happens. How are you supposed to be concentrating on their wants and needs when they’re super boring and they talk too much?
Nestled between other storefronts on Davie Street, the long-standing Little Sister’s Book and Art Emporium has a long and difficult history.