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Getting a pedicure at a salon never gets old, but toward the end of summer it does get expensive.
Now, with little over a month to go before you start pulling out boots, is a good time to invest in the tools for an at-home pedicure. You can shell out a few extra bucks today, and then go through the routine as often as you like (while comfortably watching Mad Men at home instead of flipping through a tired US Weekly).
Fresh's Brown Sugar Body Polish is the key. You'll be tempted to rub it all over your body, but stick to your feet (for now). Once they've been rubbed and soaked, gently use this Diamencel Diamond Foot buffer.
More From ELLEThen, slather your toes with Bliss' Foot Patrol and stick them into the bright blue socks that come in the package. Put your feet up for at least ten minutes, then take off the socks and sweep the lotion off your nails with a cotton swab soaked with nail polish remover.
Sweep a coat of Sally Hansen's Hard as Nails over each nail, and then layer on Chanel's Gold Lamé (like a permanent summer on your toes). And then, most importantly, don't move!

Cass Bird/Art + CommerceAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowIn her dressing room at Conan O'Brien's late-night show, the 6'8" women's-basketball wunderkind Brittney Griner is flipping through a rolling rack of men's shirts with one of her very large hands—they're bigger than LeBron James'—while also keeping her eyes on the iPhone she's palming in the other. What attracted the attention of Conan, and the rest of the country, is Griner's absolute dominance as a college player and her selection as the WNBA's number one draft pick this spring—in her first pro game, for the Phoenix Mercury, she dunked twice, setting a league record—not to mention the suggestion by Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban that Griner should try out for his team.
More From ELLEHer outfit for her imminent television appearance was settled on a while ago: a blue-and-white seersucker suit with one of her signature bow ties. But backstage at Conan, she's addressing another wardrobe concern: what to wear to the ESPYs, ESPN's annual awards show. The event is three days away, and she needs something to wear with the gorgeous black suit that her stylist, Kellen Richards—who's also Ellen DeGeneres' fashion adviser—had custom made for her. "With Ellen, we choose women's clothes and add menswear touches," says Richards' assistant, when asked to compare dressing the two women. "With Brittney, it's all men's. And it's edgier." (The last time she wore a dress, Griner tells me, was at her mother's request, for her high school graduation. Never again.)
Griner quickly gravitates to a burgundy sleeveless T-shirt by Robert Geller and a black Saint Laurent sweatshirt top with cutoff sleeves and a narrow silver chain sewn across the yoke. Her agent, Lindsay Kagawa Colas, pulls out a Lanvin sleeveless tee with mesh sides as a racier alternative. "Would you like this with no shirt underneath, with nipples out?" she asks matter-of-factly.
"That would be sexy," Griner replies, grinning, "but I don't think I'm ready for that."
She retreats into the tiny bathroom to change from her low-slung jeans and Nike T-shirt—the company has signed her to model its menswear, the first time a woman has had that gig—into her suit for Conan. Once the stylist has fussed over her, including rolling her pants cuffs to just the right height, lest they hike up if she crosses her legs—"I never cross my legs," Griner assures her—Kagawa Colas calls her over for a quick makeup session. "See, it looks like nothing," she says as she puts the slightest smudge of foundation and undereye concealer on Griner's smooth, flawless skin.
At the WNBA's rookie orientation, Griner says she declined to participate in a session about makeup application and how to dress. "I don't need that shit," she says without rancor, adding that the only lecture she appreciated was one on 401(k)s. (Yes, new WNBA players are taught how to apply makeup while NBA rookies learn to beware of gold-digger groupies who might prick tiny holes in condoms.) Now, peering at herself in the makeup mirror, Griner approves of her agent's handiwork. "Looks like nothing," she agrees.
Brittney Griner is now the first man to play in the WNBA…. Brittney Griner threw down two dunks last night. One for each of her testicles…. Brittney Griner suspended for first three games next season after testing positive for a penis. This is a tiny sample of the ugly invective regularly hurled at Griner on Twitter and other social-media forums. She seems pretty unfazed by the haters, however—even motivated by them. "Reading what people say makes me want to be me even more," she told ESPN magazine's Kate Fagan.
In a world in which the female body is always up for critique, Griner stands as very tall testament to how much we've changed in our attitudes toward difference, but also to the distance we have yet to travel. Hers is the story of how a 22-year-old physical anomaly with the energy of the goofy skater kid she is during her off-hours—leaving the arena, Griner worked her long torso through an open car window and sat on the door's edge, hollering to a teammate behind us—is challenging norms of both sexuality and gender. "Gender is who you go to bed as," says one specialist in gender identity issues. "Sexuality is who you go to bed with."
The latter subject is in some ways more straightforward, easier for sports reporters and cultural observers to address—and celebrate. In April, during a video interview on SportsIllustrated.com, Griner offhandedly acknowledged that she's a lesbian. The low-key disclosure came in a spring and early summer marked by watershed moments in gay rights, including the Supreme Court's striking down of a federal ban on gay marriage and NBA backup center Jason Collins becoming the first male pro-athlete to out himself while still an active player.
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Andreas Kuehn/Getty ImagesAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowYou're famished. Nothing has touched your lips since your out-the-door breakfast bar (except maybe gloss), and then there it is, inches from your mouth, happiness in your hand: a classic Chipwich, its two warm chocolate chip cookies meeting the vanilla ice cream middle that's slowly melting down your fingers. This may sound like a Liz Lemon dream sequence, but food legitimately affects your mood—more than you probably realize. Take the chocolate in your 'wich: It contains happy-making serotonin and anandamide, and once it hits your gut, your body thanks you with a surge of opioids—the cocktail of all three reaches your brain and, voilà, bliss! "Different foods signal pleasure both through the substances they contain and the chemicals they cause the gut to release," says Gianrico Farrugia, director of the Enteric Neuroscience Program at the Mayo Clinic. This prompts the question: Should we be eating to balance our moods, not just our scales?
More From ELLEThe brain-gut connection has necessitated a new field of science, neurogastroenterology, whose experts reverentially refer to the gut (comprised of the esophagus, intestines, and stomach) as the "second brain." Unglamorous as it may sound, the gut is a physical and emotional powerhouse: It's estimated to contain more than 200 million neurons, more than the spinal cord has, and can do its work (i.e., digestion) independent of the brain.
Indeed, many of the mood-related messages between these two brains go from the bottom up. Researchers now look at the digestive system as an indicator of what may be going on in the brain: Tissue lesions from Alzheimer's and Parkinson's diseases have been found in the stomach wall, matching those in the brain—a discovery that could aid in early diagnoses. Studies also indicate that people stricken with intestinal diseases, including irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), benefit from low doses of antidepressants, drugs once thought to work only in the brain. Since the gut contains about 95 percent of the body's supply of serotonin, some neurogastroenterologists now believe that antidepressants actually work primarily in the digestive system, as opposed to the brain, by blocking the reuptake of serotonin and making it more available to bind with important receptors.
Depression sufferers who are unresponsive to antidepressants sometimes turn to vagus nerve stimulation—which essentially delivers a mega-dose of the rush you'd get from that Chipwich. Electrodes are im­planted under the skin near the neck to send electrical impulses through the nerves, "mimicking the good feelings that the gut usually sends to the brain," says Michael Gershon, professor of anatomy and cell biology at Columbia University and author of The Second Brain (HarperCollins).
In fact, Emeran Mayer, director of the Center for Neurobiology of Stress at UCLA, believes that one day psychiatry may improve mental well-being by treating both brains. He's currently running a brain-imaging study to examine the effect of probiotic supplements, hypothesizing that they will impact mood positively (possibly by improving the digestive system's function). "When we ingest something, it doesn't just sit in our stomachs. It most certainly has an affect on our overall being," Mayer says. Of course, anyone who has ever savored the perfect Chipwich knows that already.

Getty ImagesAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowSandra Bullock had an Oscar-winning performance in The Blind Side—and she's had winning hairstyles through the years as well. From her Speed-style short bob to her current long locks, vote for your favorites below.
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Girls who are boys
Who like boys to be girls
Who do boys like their girls
Who do girls like their boys
—Kate Lanphear
The boys in Soulland's spring 2010 show were adorably indiscernible from the girls
Click here to see the complete collection
Photo: Courtesy of Copenhagen Fashion Week
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Jerritt ClarkPhoto: Jerritt Clark
Advertisement - Continue Reading Below"When I was growing up, the place I felt least alone was when I was reading," decided to foray into writing children's books, even moving on to be a best-selling author. Her latest work, My Mom Is a Foreigner, But Not to Me, is a charming, rhyming ode to diversity inspired by her own experience as a child of a foreign parent.
More From ELLE Moore, wearing a white draped Alexander Wang dress, arrived at the 21 Club to mingle with New York City moms at a gathering hosted by TheMoms.com. Over lunch, Moore shed any guise of a Hollywood star and instead gave off the aura of an old friend, talking candidly about trying to convince her daughter to read Little Women, the problems surrounding teen kids and social media, and the Scottish quirks she grew up with—such as the constant presence of tartan prints and bagpipe music. After excitedly showing off her latest accessory (a "new, beautiful Balenciaga baaaag!"), Moore chatted with us about her new project and what inspires her acting.
What can readers expect from 'My Mother Is a Foreigner, But Not to Me?'It's about the experience of growing up with a mother from another country. My mom came here from Scotland when she was 10 in 1950, and then I was born 10 years later. So, I grew up with someone who has a very strong identification to another culture. I think so much of our country's history is about assimilation. We come here and become Americans and it's a melting pot, but nobody really talks about that idea that we don't all just assimilate. All the things about my mother that were so familiar to me were very foreign to the world outside. This is something that I thought would be resonant for a lot of people I know.What is different about this book from your 'Freckleface Strawberry' series?Oddly enough, Meilo So, my illustrator, is from Hong Kong but she's living in the Shetland Islands in Scotland right now, where she's now the "foreign" mother of a Scottish daughter. It's this weird synchronistic kind of thing!How does this story fit in with the current generation and social climate?I feel like it speaks to every generation. I think this is one of the characteristics of being an American: We are all from somewhere else. I think that's why immigration reform is so important right now so I don't understand, suddenly, why people can't come or only certain people can come. I think this is something that speaks to us as a nation.Is that diversity why you decided to live in NYC?As an actor, there are places you can live and when I graduated from school it was either New York or L.A., and I liked the East Coast. That's why I ended up in New York.Why did you decide to write children's books?There's a documentary on Maurice Sendak that I saw and people are always asking why he wrote children's books and he says, "It comes out how it comes out!" I don't think anybody has an intention [to write a children's book], things just sort of end up that way. It sort of happened. I wasn't really planning it. Obviously, I'm an actress, not a writer [laughs], so this thing just developed.How did having a split culture growing up come out in your acting?Everything contributes. As an actor, all you have is what you know and what you see in other people. The more you know and the more you've experienced, the more you're able to communicate to other people. The fact that I had access to a whole different culture growing up, and moved around so much, has helped me understand more as an actor. In particular, I feel that human drama is the most compelling stuff. I'm not someone who is driven by big external stories. I like big emotional stories. Jerritt ClarkPhoto: Jerritt Clark

StocksyA few summers ago, I hesitantly asked my on-again-off-again boyfriend to accompany me to a family wedding. After a long rough patch, things finally felt great between us, and he happily agreed to attend. Although he'd met my family before, this would be the first time he was spending extended time with them and really meeting the whole #squad.
We drove down to a vineyard a couple hours away, checked into the hotel, and had some hot in-suite sex before getting ready for the wedding. I was feeling really great about our relationship—and the whole trip—so, after a few 100 pre-dinner cocktails, we snuck down to the vines to fool around. After some heavy making out, I gave him a quick (but super effective) BJ. We quickly fixed each other up, I reapplied my lip gloss, and we slid back into our seats just as dinner was being served.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowFor context, we were seated at a table with my parents, my siblings, and my grandfather. Just as the first course came out, my boyfriend began to shift uncomfortably while discreetly "readjusting" himself. Shortly after, he started to aggressively wipe his mouth and guzzle water. When it got to the point where he couldn't hide his discomfort any longer, I realized that my lip gloss was one of the Kylie Jenner-level extreme plumping variety. (Buyers beware: It's called Sexy Mother Pucker XL.)
My family began to make jokes about what was going on (after all, we'd been smooching all night), but, of course, had no idea how far the Mother Pucker had traveled. My boyfriend and I managed to steal away from the table to the photo booth, where he put it all together before excusing himself to go "wash his dick off" in the bathroom. Yeah.
Needless to say, the weekend took a slight turn in mood after that—no matter how many times I insisted that we'd laugh about it later. We never made it to "later" so I hope he sees this and LOLS? Or cries? I'm currently doing both.

Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowKyle Anderson, Senior Accessories Editor, in Gucci shoes
Photo: Kelly Stuart
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GettyA few weeks ago, at a lovely soirée in celebration of both a couple's new home and soon-to-be-born son, a 30-year-old woman had a few glasses of white wine, a coupla cubes of cheddar, and, to the sound of a live band playing Bon Iver's "Skinny Love," found herself crawling around the floor with a friend's baby. And though this woman thought she and her Prince George-lookalike were alone in their pursuit of the cheesiest Goldfish and shiniest objects in all the land, it seemed they had quietly amassed an audience. "Look at that," whispered a single, high school friend of the woman's husband, his eyes trained on the way the woman expertly restrained the tot from crawling into a roaring fire. "You guys are totally next." The woman's husband, the kind, yummy, soul that he is, politely nodded and smiled at the suggestion, but the woman, who had miraculously rotated her head 180-degrees like a full-blown dragon, not-so-quietly seethed.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowThat dragon lady, dear readers, was me.
Yes, I am married. Yes, as the result of having three nephews, a niece, and a second niece on her way, I am able to properly interact with the wordless blobs also known as babies. And, yes, as I indicated in this week's roundtable on the choice to have children, I intend to be a mother. (My husband's 6'4", you think I'm gonna let those genes go to waste? In the words of Dr. Andre Nowzick, "child, please.") But jokes aside, I don't find this a laughing matter: Why, in 2015, a year in which women are dominating comedy and gearing up for a run at the oval (and men are publicly joining the gender equality movement), is it still cool to ask about—or intimate your opinion on—a woman's intentions to get pregnant?
More From ELLEWhy, even with all of our cultural strides toward a more even-keeled social order, did Mr. Baby Shamer look surprised (judgmental even) when I recoiled at the assumption that, just because I'm a married woman, I'm desperate to get knocked up? And what would have happened if, instead of me, single-as-a-string-cheese Sabrina had been the one playing nice with the cherubic attendee? Would MBS have sharply sucked in some air and been all, "bad break on that one, sweet cheeks"?
I sincerely hope not.
I don't want to get too ornery on the topic because, again, I do plan to have children some day (and the only thing the world dislikes more than a childless married woman is a fallopian flip flopper), but I refuse to accept that the incessant whisperings and Cheshire smiles that occur after you get married and/or turn down a cocktail are benefiting anyone. I can't imagine how irksome that routine will become if I happen to be one of the countless women who have difficulty conceiving—science says that 30-year-old women like me are at the precipice of a free fall into infertility—or how put-upon I will feel having to drink water out of a beer bottle for the first trimester just to ensure something terrible doesn't happen to my unborn spawn.
I have to admit it, though, when I was on the floor that day, chasing after a cutie in overalls, the idea of my child—the medium heighted, medium -verted, hopefully-more-like-her-dad progeny—started to take firmer shape in my mind. 'You could toooootally do this,' my wine-addled brain assured me. 'Look at how you Heismaned that child away from those lapping flames!' (**blatantly ignores discarded DVD case for 'Elegant Fireplace 2.'**) And when I do have that baby, be it by way of womb or altruistic stork, I'll make sure that he or she also has cute overalls, two attentive parents, and a lovely, non-gendered party to introduce our own wordless blob to the masses.
It will be a lovely affair with boatloads of white wine, a Bon Iver cover band, and cheese by the pound. Baby Shamers need not RSVP.

Getty ImagesAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowGone are Joey Potter's tomboy outfits and below-the-shoulder strands: Since her Dawson's Creek days, Katie Holmes has become a bona fide style icon, gracing the red carpet in designer sheaths—and trendsetting crop cuts. View her tress transformations for the long and short of it and vote on your favorite looks now!
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Which bob with bangs is your favorite?(trends)
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Which hair accessory do you prefer?(answers)
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Spotted at: Derek Lam
Hometown: Salt Lake City, Utah
More From ELLEAge: 22. "This will be my fifth Fashion Week since having my son. Prior to that, I did four."
Fashion Week Hair Saver: "Rather than spend a ridiculous amount of money on a mask or something, I'll just put olive oil in my hair at the end of Fashion Week. You can't do the treatment in between shows because it takes days for it to come out. It doesn't wash out of your hair—your hair just keeps absorbing it. After doing all the cities, I'll take a week off of work because you look like you haven't washed your hair for a month. But then after a few days, the olive oil will soak in."
Fresh-Faced Secret: "Luckily, I'm doing okay right now—I quit smoking and I feel like that really helped! But I use acne washes. I like the Neutrogena Wave. It exfoliates and gets rid of blemishes. And then I also use this product from the Japanese company Kosé that's called Addiction. I did some makeup things for them and they gave me this moisturizing face wash."
Favorite Food: "My husband had his birthday the other day and we went out to his favorite restaurant for dinner. I like every kind of food—it depends on what mood I'm in. I like American food like burgers to Japanese food like sushi to Italian pasta. There's really not much I won't put in my mouth."
Workout Secret: "The thing is, even though I like all these foods I don't get to eat them all the time because I need to eat healthy. I run every day, which is a nice therapy to get away from everything. In the winter I run in the gym, but I live in the East Village so in the summer I'll run in the East River Park. I love the smell of the water."
Favorite Part About Fashion Week: "Seeing makeup artists, models, hairdressers, and stylists that I only get to see every six months."
Least Favorite Part About Fashion Week: "The lack of sleep and the lack of seeing my family. I get to see all these other people I love, but I don't get to see my son and my husband as much."
—Emily Hebert
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HBODear E. Jean: I'm a political science undergraduate in my final year. To help pay for my education, I took part in various awkward arrangements with a string of sugar daddies. These men distracted me from accomplishing anything worthwhile. Worse, they made me feel inept. It was difficult, but I managed to end my easy-money addiction and rededicate myself to my studies.
he reason I'm writing? The political campaigns have fired my imagination like nothing else! I've been working as an intern for a senator and have now decided to make politics my career. But I'm terrified that somewhere along the line someone will find out what I spent my first two years of college doing. I have absolutely no justification for the shallow and disgusting things I did! So, my question: Am I wasting my time? Should I continue to forge a career in politics or switch now to avert a calamity later? —Possibly Paranoid
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowPossibly, My Innocent Parsnip: You want to enter politics? Here's the law: You may invade a country, hide billions in secret accounts in the Caymans, con, scam, sneak, steal, lie, and possess the brain of a pea, but, whatever you do, don't boff a sugar daddy.
Since, however, you have boffed a sugar daddy, the best advice I can give you is this: Publish an autobiography detailing your rolls in the halls of academe. If you write it well, tell the truth, and make a clean breast of it—the whole breast, and nothing but the breast—then you may have a slim chance (slimmer than Governor Chris Christie) of clearing your way into politics.
More From ELLEPresident Obama, in Dreams From My Father, described his high-school "junkie" and "pothead" days in such swashbuckling Hunter Thompson–esque terms that his opponents wished they had been stoners and written their own books.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm reminded of a young lady who wrote to me 15 or 16 years ago. She was worried her husband would leave her when she appeared on David Letterman to talk about her new book. "How will my husband deal with my sudden fame?" she asked.
"How exciting," I wrote back. "When's your book coming out?"
"Oh," she replied. "I haven't written it yet."
Winning the internship with the senator shows you have brains—good. Now let's find out if you possess the manic drive, impertinence, and acting ability to "forge a career in politics." Take this simple aptitude test: You have one semester to persuade your student government to pass a law banning all guns within a two-mile radius of campus. (Or a law permitting all guns—whichever principle you wish to see ground beneath the boots of the special interests.) The National Rifle Association, your state legislature, and your college administration will express themselves accordingly. If you get the law passed, then write to me about entering politics.
E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com
Related: Ask E. Jean: 25 Things Every Woman Should Know
Related: Ask E. Jean: Girls' Nights Out Are Bad for Your Love Life
Related: Ask E. Jean: How to Properly Suck Up

Steven KrauseAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowIn yet another example of Japan's ability to make almost everything smaller and better, the petite brush of Fiberwig's Tiny Sniper delivers the same tubing formula found in the best-selling mascara, letting you meticulously lengthen the smallest of lashes.

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Julianne Moore dusts off her comedy chops in her latest film, The English Teacher, in which she plays a character who is a late bloomer, a spinster, and a book worm (we doubt any casting director saw that combination coming). "My favorite scene is when [my character] Linda gets money from the ATM and pepper sprays [Michael Angarano's character]. I could not stop laughing. It's my absolute favorite thing," Moore told us. "It's really silly stuff—with the pepper spray, hitting him over the head with the fake tombstone—and it was really fun to do, [but] it's all rooted in real fear and real despair."When Linda shepherds a play production for her favorite student, her world is rocked by their unexpected romance. Moore's Linda dares a path that would make Jane Austen, the Brontës, and Bridget Jones proud.With The English Teacher hitting theaters today, we sat down with Moore—known as "Julie" to her co-star Angarano—to talk spinsterhood, saying "yes," and what profession she might have sought out in another life.It's difficult to envision you as a homely spinster. Were the costume designer and makeup artist overwhelmed by that task?I wanted [my character] Linda to be someone who wasn't particularly interested in how she looked. She wasn't really concerned with her physicality at all. So, I didn't wear makeup, we pulled my hair back, and I wore those glasses.Those glasses are amazing! Where did you find them?I chose them myself at Fabulous Fanny's in NYC. They sell vintage frames. I felt like [Linda] cycled through many, many pairs and had just stopped changing her frames at one point. They were kind of late '80s, which is where I sort of had her stop.How many screenplays do you read in a year—over 100?Yes. You read a lot, very quickly. It's interesting, because when I started out, everything was a hard copy. You used to have to go pick up your scripts, which was crazy. But now everything is digital, so I think you read more now, because people can send it to you in a flash and can have a look through it very quickly. Yeah, you read a lot to find the stuff you want to do. And that's not counting your friends' scripts and other odds and ends that people want you to look at.And how many get "yeses?"I give answers very quickly. I remember with [A Single Man], Tom Ford ran into me at a party. He and I had been friends. He said, "Oh, my god. I have something I want to send you. I want to send you my script." And I thought, "Oh, no. Here's my friend with a script. What am I going to do?" He sent it to me, and I read, and thought, "Jesus. This is great." I emailed him immediately and said, "Okay. I'll do it." I had to say that three times before he understood, because I think he thought it was going to be a longer process. But I loved the script immediately. And when that happens, I'm kind of just in.What made you say "yes" to 'The English Teacher?'I found [Linda] to be incredibly easy to relate to. She's not very different from me. I loved reading as a kid. I was pretty academic. So, I feel like in another life, I could have been Linda. I love her purity within the idea of story of what literature is, and about there being a beginning, middle, and an end. Her ideology is lovely and adorable, but it's great when she opens up about how messy and unpredictable life can be.There's a line in the film—"all great art comes from pain"— is that true?I don't think it's true at all. I think it's a fallacy. Art is an expression of who we are, what we believe, and what we dream about. It doesn't mean that those things are unhappy or that you have to come from an unhappy place to create them. And I actually think the more together and sane you are, the more you are able to imagine effectively. That's been the case for me anyway.Your skin is flawless—what SPF do you use?It depends. If I'm at the beach, I use a 50 on my body. On my face, I usually use a 15, and then reapply it, because otherwise it's too stingy.Is there a specific brand?L'Oréal. Courtesy of CinedigmPhoto: Courtesy of Cinedigm

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Michael Yarish / © AMC / Courtesy: Everett CollectionDear E. Jean: I had a brief affair with a musician this year and fell so deeply in love, I now have a huge problem. I work as a journalist, and I know I have no future with him and that I must stop. Yet I keep texting him to "Come over!"
He told me that all the women he's ever been with have complained about his bad habit of smoking pot every evening (and mornings, too, I think). I believed he meant that they left him because (as I've read) most marijuana users live alone and are isolated. So I didn't want to give up on him! I wanted to show him I cared. I started dropping by for surprise visits. One night, there he was with his pot friends, clearly annoyed that I came, but I spent the night with him. Another time, I surprised him on a Monday morning. He opened the door, said he was sleeping, and turned his back on me.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowI left him alone for about a month, and then I went to see if he was okay. I just want to break his routine, his destructive way of life. Lately, all I do is phone him, text him "Hi, Sweetie!" etc., and drop off books. He lives near my grandmother, so I look up at his windows to see if his blinds are shut—and they always are! I imagine him sitting in there, smoking. I want to burst in, force myself on him, hit him, and scream at him to stop!—Sad Girl
More From ELLEMiss Sad , you charming half-wit: Oh, please. Some of the happiest, richest, cleverest people I know start the day by toking up. Leave the chap alone!
That said, I feel a surge of tenderness for you. Why? Because it's you who are "alone and isolated," darling; it's you who feel "destructive" and long to "force (your)self on him, hit him," not Mr. Zig Zag. Listen to Auntie Eeee: Stop pestering him. We've all been young and foolish when it comes to musicians; but he doesn't want you standing outside his apartment staring up at his blinds like a zombie menace. Your overheated addiction for this man has eaten your brains. The more you want to change him, the unhappier and crazier you'll feel.
E-mail your questions to e.jean@askejean.com
Related: Ask E. Jean: Weight-Loss Rules That Are Not Deeply Full of Crap
Related: Ask E. Jean: Am I Too Tall to Date in Heels?
Related: Ask E. Jean: How Can I Cope With the Stress of Climbing the Corporate Ladder?

Photo: Everett Everett CollectionAdvertisement - Continue Reading Below"We'd like to ask you a few questions," is the line Scarlett Johansson uses to set the stage for Spike Jonze's Her. Joaquin Phoenix falls in love with Johansson's character, an intelligent computer operating system, as she gets to know him better through a series of queries that grow more intimate: "Are you social or antisocial?" "How do you share your life with someone?"
There's a similar premise behind the latest dating app Willow, out this week. Rather than swipe through images of potential mates or read curated personality profiles, Willow begins the dating experience through faceless questions. Its tag line: "Branch Out."
More From ELLE"What I realized was missing from a dating app, or an app that is meant to be social, was an actual conversational aspect," said 23-year-old Willow founder Michael Bruch. "I wanted to create an app that got people talking."
Bruch came up with the concept while attending a guest lecture at NYU on empathy. "She was basically saying, 'Reach out to other people. Human beings are more empathetic than you think,'" Bruch said. At first he imagined the idea as a service help app (with questions like, "How do I change a tire?"), but then decided the idea would better serve the dating community.
To start a conversation, you swipe through questions other users have posed and message them replies. Common questions include: "What is the first thing you would do if you won the lottery?" And Bruch's favorite: "If your hair was a type of pasta, what kind of pasta would it be? (And don't say angel hair because that's a cop out)."
Photo: Willow Everett CollectionThe app is not intrinsically sexy: It's branded bright green and the questions posed are missing the allure of Scarlett Johansson's sultry banter, or really any element of tactile human-to-human detail. There's also an odd feeling that comes with putting random questions out into the ether without a target audience. Still, if you're able to spark up a captivating conversation—based not just on how interesting you find a given question but if your own answer is charming enough to elicit a reply (as Bruch says, "You need to be more thoughtful to keep the conversation going")—you are then able to share photos and unlock more information about the person on the other end of the line.
It's no surprise that singles, especially millennials, are increasingly looking to find partnership in the digital realm: As of 2013, one in 10 serious relationship began online, and five percent of marriages are the result of a digital hookup, according to a Pew Research Center study. While there is no shortage of dating apps, Bruch hopes to make the experience less superficial and more closely aligned with the ways we form partnerships offline.
"On a daily basis, you are willing to talk to a large variety of people, depending on what they have to say," said Bruch. "Social media should reflect that. Human interaction is more complicated than just a picture."
Spike Jonze would certainly agree.
Related: The 12 Guys You Meet on Tinder
Related: The Joy of Tinder
Related: Reinventing Myself One Online Dating Profile at a Time

Everett CollectionDear E. Jean: I met a man online; he lives in NYC and I live in L.A., but he said he's moving here in March. He's a professor, author, and film critic, and I checked him out: the syllabus for his class, his professional website with photo, and his friends on Facebook, including you, E. Jean. I want to tell you his name, but I don't want to put you in an awkward position. Though I doubt you "friend" jerks, right?
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowAnyway, for over a month we developed a lovely relationship with daily e-mails and phone calls, and we made plans to visit. He then mentioned that he was having financial problems and couldn't buy me a ticket to meet him (and I didn't offer to pay). He again alluded to money problems and disappointment because a work project was canceled, and said it was "hard on his soul." Almost two weeks ago, he e-mailed me and said that he'd call, and I never heard from him again. I e-mailed him to ask what was happening, and no response. I can't believe I fell for a jackass! —Confused in LaLa Land
More From ELLEConfused, my kumquat: Alas! Why didn't you buy a ticket and fly to see him? I don't know which of my Facebook friends he is—like everyone, I have many friends losing jobs, losing 401(k)s, and losing hope (and the rest of my friends are worrying that it's only a matter of time before they lose theirs), so I don't think he's a "jackass." The poor bloke just doesn't have the luxury right now to think about love. Send him a note next month and offer to come and see him. And in the meantime, to salve your savage breast, I recommend you immediately read The No Good Dirty Rotten Low Down Book of Love by the shrewd and witty Eileen Bertelli. You will instantly feel 50 times better!
Related: Ask E. Jean: What's the Best Course of Action After Being Fired?
Related: Ask E. Jean: Turning the Tables on His Bad Internet Habit
Related: Ask E. Jean: Do You Believe in Love At First Sight?

Getty ImagesI'm late on a deadline, waiting for several work-based communications, and my phone keeps vibrating. There's a Kik message from Graham, complaining about the temperature in his office. Steve has WhatsApped me a photo of his lunch with a frowny face—apparently, he's unhappy with his sandwich selection. And over on Tinder, Colin is telling me that his mom's birthday is on Sunday, so he's planning to go home for a visit.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowI haven't met any of these men, although, at one point—before the constant stream of messages about the minutiae of their day flooded my phone—I'd been actively looking forward to setting up dates with each of them. In most cases, we've only "known" each other for a week, ever since we swiped right on Tinder or exchanged an initial how are you e-mail on OkCupid. No one would know that if they read our pages of text exchanges—they'd assume we were in a relationship or friends from way back.
More From ELLERelated: Newest Tinder Trend: Marriage
But we're not. And while I know I have a choice to respond to these inane messages, I don't want to seem rude by preemptively shutting down the conversation. After all, their profiles sound promising. I like their photos. And some of the texts are genuinely funny or interesting: I had a fun back-and-forth exchange with Dermot about the best coffee shops in our respective neighborhoods; Steve's Golden Retriever looks nice. I also appreciate the validation, the feeling that some guy connects with me so deeply he simply can't help but send me 20 texts a day. But, from a practical point of view, the torrent of texts is distracting me from work—not to mention talking to my real friends.
Related: Why American Women Keep Falling for British Dudes
"I love meeting new people, and it's sometimes fun to have a random dude to text with during my down time, but seeing so many messages build up on my phone is stressful," says 24-year-old Tinder-user Ashley. However, "I try to respond quickly because I know how weird I feel when I write something and a guy I like doesn't respond for hours later." But it's not only the time suck that's a downside of exchanging too many texts before an in-person meeting. For me, I've found the more info I share with a guy in advance, the bigger my expectations become. And more often than not, those expectations only lead to letdown. I find the guy who is razor sharp over texts is bitter and angry over drinks; the one who seemed flirty in messages is pushy in person. And in turn, I become more sensitive from the outset: I notice if a guy seems acutely disappointed when we meet—as if he's more attracted to my avatar than me. And I hate the stilted conversations that occur when you already know everything about each other.
And worst of all is how, immediately after a less-than-ideal date, the texts stop completely. Don't get me wrong, I never liked them in the first place, but it's rough to go from 20-plus messages a day to nada. It makes the rejection, or at least the disappointment that once again, this wasn't quite the right match, hurt that much more.
I'm not the only woman who feels this way. Callie, 28, once texted with a man for two weeks leading up to their first in-person encounter. "We met on OkCupid, but he was traveling abroad and couldn't meet for a few weeks," she says. "We exchanged numbers and started texting a lot. I really looked forward to his texts and he actually helped me through a tricky work issue. But then when we met, we had nothing to say. Here was this guy right in front of me, and I wished I was back at home, texting with 'him'—his virtual self just seemed a lot easier to connect with," she says. After drinks and dinner, the two headed home in opposite directions—and Callie never heard from him again. Still, she hasn't erased the text exchange, and occasionally re-reads them. "It's so weird. He and I got along so well over text and it felt like an actual breakup when we stopped communicating, even though we only went on one date."
According to experts, that may be because a lot of guys prefer the texting to dating. Matthew Hussey, a relationship expert and author of Get the Guy: Learn Secrets of the Male Mind to Find the Man You Want and the Love You Deserve explains that, for guys, texting strangers serves a purpose that women, who tend to have a larger social network (both virtually and in person), don't require. "Texting gives men a non-committal form of validation whenever they want to feel connected," Hussey says. While an actual date can make a guy freak out about commitment and question whether he really wants a relationship, texting offers intimacy without the, 'Is this going to be a thing?' uncertainty. "Guys may want fleeting moments of connection rather than the prospect of a real thing."
But if you're not into a textlationship, Hussey says the best thing to do is let a guy know ASAP: "Tell him you're going on a texting hiatus until he proves that he is indeed a real human being and not a figment of your imagination," he suggests. And while he's figuring out his own agenda, do yourself a favor and put your phone away. You'd be amazed by how much work you get done.

Crashing at a friend or family member's house this Memorial Day weekend? Yeah, you can write them a nice note to thank them (maybe on the new J.Crew x Paperless Post note cards?) but sometimes it's better to show up with something tangible in hand. (Or send it afterwards.) Below, team ELLE.com shares their favorite ways to thank the host with creative, unexpected gifts—as in, not giving them yet another scented Diptyque candle. ZzZZzz.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowPhoto: Ice cream, $60 for a selection of 6, at graeters.com
Natalie Matthews, Associate Editor
"I have some pints of fancy, artisanal ice cream from Graeter's delivered the day of my arrival. It's a favorite of Oprah and Sarah Jessica Parker, so I know it's chic, and naturally I include my favorite flavor, Black Raspberry Chocolate Chip, in there, so it's a win-win."
More From ELLEPhoto: Mr. and Mrs. Reversible Mug, $24, at jonathanadler.com
Ruthie Friedlander, Deputy Editor
"I'm a big coffee drinker, so I always bring a his and hers mug set. This one from Jonathan Adler is my personal favorite because it offers up a good dose of quirk."
Photo: McClure's Garlic Dill Pickles, $12.99, at murrayscheese.com; Assorted Cookie Tin, $12, at shopmilkbar.com
Kate Winick, Social Media Editor
"If it's a short stay, I bring a jar of artisanal pickles and a jar of bloody mary mix from Murray's Cheese, or a cookie tin from Momofuku Milk Bar, if that feels more appropriate. Then, if I'm staying more than two nights, I'll bring Champagne, too."
Photo: Kaas Glassworks
Justine Harman, Features Editor
"You can't order these online, but I love buying handmade decoupage plates at Kaas Glassworks in the West Village. The store is no bigger than a hall closet, but it's jam-packed with beautifully made dishes and trays featuring animals, vintage ad slogans, and maps. No matter where you are going, you can always find a piece that ties into your destination."
Photo: Carved Teak Footed Planter, $148, shopterrain.com
Victoria Hoff, Editorial Assistant
"A bottle of wine has been my standard in the past, but lately I've been into giving succulents—and not just because I'm personally a little obsessed. They're the perfect hostess gift: 1) Unlike flowers, they don't die; 2) Each and every plant is totally unique; 3) They go with most decor styles; and 4) You can really make it personalized by choosing a gorgeous—and chic—planter to present it in. (Terrain is great for a variety of different styles like this awesome, rustic wooden bowl.)"
Photo: Patron Silver, $37.99, at bevmo.com ; Barneys New York Studio Frame, $78, at barneys.com
Danielle Prescod, Fashion Editor
"I always bring people framed photos of us together so they can put them in the house. That way, they remember that we are friends and I'm in their home...permanently. If I am with old people, though, I bring Patrón, because I will want to drink it and they probably won't have it."
Photo: Luxury Bath Bar Collection, $60, at bloomingdales.com
Sally Holmes, Senior News Editor
"Usually I bring bagels and cream cheese from Amy's or another New York City bakery, because you just can't get bagels that good anywhere else. Or I bring fancy, pretty soaps, which make great gifts because they're something people like to get but never want to buy for themselves."
Related: The Most Stylish Holiday Gifts
Related: The Under $100 Gift Guide

Graeme MontgomeryFor a special section in our May issue, we asked the editors of Esquire to decode the mind and manners of the men in your life. In turn, in the pages of Esquire, you'll find a section in which we try to explain the finer points of the female condition to their readers. Here, Esquire's Ross McCammon tell us how to talk to men. For more from Esquire's guide to the land of men, pick of ELLE's May issue, available on newsstands nationwide on April 22.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowWe—you and us—have been made to think that we are from different planets, that we communicate in different ways. This is nonsense. We are from the same planet. And we speak exactly the same language.
That language might involve some bumbling. For us especially. And it is in the bumbling—a perfectly natural result of anxiety and glee—that things get dicey. The bumbling will consist of wit and ideas and amusing observations, and it will consist of some really unfortunate lapses in decorum and tact. We will accidentally insult your home state. We will imply that your particular hair color is not one of our top-two favorite hair colors. We will inexplicably refer to the restroom as the "little boy's room," even though we have never once called it that, ever—not even when we were a little boy. But we are not to be held accountable for these things. You must be more generous than that. Please. Bear with us.
More From ELLEAnd when we are not bumbling, when we seem in control—a little haughty maybe, a bit asshole-ish, a little cold—you must also bear with us. Think of the burden we carry into the conversation. Our fathers and grandfathers fought in wars. Some of them not by choice. These were men with heavy souls. These were men who believed they earned the right to be an asshole every now and then. These were the men who taught us how to comport ourselves. We weren't coddled by these men. They didn't text us selfies on a business trip and tell us they missed us! We do not carry their burdens, but their darkness has shaped us.
Please. Bear with us.
It is worth noting that there are not two kinds of men—the blundering and the arrogant. There is one kind of man, who occasionally blunders and occasionally is a dick and occasionally is his best self. What mostly determines which version of us you will encounter during any given conversation is one crucial variable: you.
So you have a lot of responsibility here. You must be clear. You are required to mean it when you say you don't care where we have dinner. You are required to disclose that you just got out of a long-term relationship with a prisoner. You are required to let us know that you really are not into this. You are required to give us information, to be straight with us, because that more than anything helps bring out our best selves. Otherwise, we are grasping. Which is an indignity.
The point is we are listening to what you say. We are listening so intently that we will make something of the smallest thing—the thoughtless flirtation, the vague insult. This is the great tragedy: that we have been made to seem indifferent to you—not to mention selfish—always looking for an out, always looking at other women, when nothing could be further from the truth.
The way to talk to a man is to know that he is trying to make something of every signal. That he is listening. To you.
We are not players and we do not want this to be a game. And there may be a battlefield, but we will not be stepping foot on it. (We'll be over here, sitting in a comfortable chair, having a drink. Join us?) And we are not scheming. We don't want to struggle. We will always be trying to find the simpler way. And we will always be trying to have a good time.
So where were we?
Related: Esquire for ELLE: The Language of Men, Decoded
A version of this article appeared in the May 2014 issue of ELLE magazine

Getty ImagesAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowIt's almost April, which means wedding season is upon us. If you already know that not because you're a bride-to-be but because you're knee-deep in bridesmaid commitments, you also know how stressful it can be to be in a wedding party. So here, we tapped a five-time bridesmaid and author of the book The Bridesmaids: True Tales of Love, Envy, Loyalty...and Terrible Dresses for her guidelines to get you through the process.
More From ELLE1.) Always Agree With The Bride

It doesn't matter whether she has asked for your opinion on her dress, your dress, or the flowers. All she really wants is blanket approval for everything she has planned, from the equestrian-themed shower to her quirky Sophia Webster wedding shoes. "Well, I love it!" is all you ever need to say.
2.) Lean In

There's nothing worse than being trapped in an e-mail chain with a bunch of bridesmaids masking passive- aggressive suggestions with xoxos. Everyone will (eventually) thank you for taking charge when it comes to planning a drama-free shower or bachelorette party.
3.) Make Friends

Yes, interbridesmaid alliances will help you get your way in stalemates over bachelorette venue or shower gifts, but those bridesmaids and groomsmen (and wedding laypeople too, I guess) are also future friends, co-workers, or boyfriends.
4.) Sweat The Small Stuff

You read that right. Weddings are high-stress and ultra-emotional, and a blowout fight can be triggered by something as simple as a mention of the bride's eligible ex-boyfriend. Speak carefully as the wedding draws near, and keep even quieter on the day itself.
5.) Pick Up The Phone
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New Line Cinema/Courtesy Everett CollectionAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowSeriously, who thought it was a good idea to create a holiday that mixes skimpy lingerie with heart-shaped ravioli, oyster, champagne and chocolate? While we believe in indulgence (and chocolate, always chocolate) it's all too common to feel a lot more like a nap after a big, heavy meal and a lot less like getting it on. Jolene Hart, a holistic health expert and author of the upcoming book Eat Pretty, specializes in beauty-oriented eating, and swears even she's run into the pasta problem before.
More From ELLEHere's her ultimate ordering plan to enjoy your meal and still feel sexy afterwards:
Canoodling in a cozy Italian restaurant.
"Skip the garlic and cream sauce on this carb-heavy (read: sleep-inducing) menu," says Hart. If it's pasta you crave, "inquire about a gluten-free version and choose a dish with plenty of veggies and a tomato-based sauce, or pair a soup and a salad topped with the protein of your choice." Hart's philosophy is that bloat is caused by poor food combinations: When you have too much variety, your body doesn't know what to digest first. So pick either a starch-based meal or a protein, and add abundant non-starchy veggies for tons of beauty benefits. Our favorite piece of advice? "Splurge on a fabulous red wine."
Trying a fancy, multi-course prix fixe.
It's nearly impossible to think about properly combining foods from a tasting menu, since courses vary widely and you're often at the whim of the chef. Your best bet is to choose quality over quantity and take it slow.
Celebrating at a steakhouse.
Here's your chance to enjoy some high-quality proteins like wild salmon, oysters (although Hart cautions against trying them for the first time on a date), or even grass-fed meat as a splurge. "Skip starchy sides like baked potato or mac and cheese that don't pair well with proteins and choose veggies like spinach or a fresh salad instead," she says. If you want to feel sexy post-meal, hydration is key, but did you know that gulping liquids during your meal actually works against you? "They dilute your digestive juices," says Hart. "Sip water while you're perusing the menu and you'll be hydrated by the time your appetizer arrives."
Hitting up a sushi place.
This could be your best bet for waistline-friendly eats. "Start by sharing protein-packed edamame, and skip the deep-fried tempura," says Hart. Opting for sashimi, especially clean seafood picks like wild salmon and eel, or an avocado maki roll (ask for brown rice), will provides quick-burning energy and beauty-friendly fats. If you're using soy sauce, request a lower-sodium version, or a wheat-free tamari, to avoid bloating.
Indulging at a classic French restaurant.
Anything au gratin is bound to be tasty— and heavy. "The best choices here are clean seafood: again, wild salmon is a perfect choice since it's loaded with anti-inflammatory, beauty-friendly benefits you'll enjoy in the days ahead," says Hart. "Pair your meal with a fresh salad and share a plate of fine French cheeses so you'll split the selection—and the calories."
Cooking at home.
Turn up the heat in your kitchen with a dish that incorporates spices—"nature's digestive aids," as Hart calls them. "Try an Indian curry packed with fresh ginger, which eases digestion, boosts circulation and leaves you with a sexy glow. For dessert, dark chocolate (look for at least 70% cacao) increases blood flow to the skin and gives your brain a feel-good surge of endorphins."
Dessert time.
"I love fruit as an option, but if you don't eat it with enough space after your meal it can be problematic." And as for chocolate, "You know, if you can't go for 70% dark, flourless chocolate cake is full of cocoa. Don't go for the fondue that you know is half butter; you want something a little more solid." Your actual best bet? "Split a sorbet, or have a special cocktail to finish off your meal—you don't really need another course. It'll spike your blood sugar and make you want to go to bed after—and not in a good way."
Photo: New Line Cinema/Courtesy Everett Collection

Everett CollectionAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowThe final straw in my 10-year drinking career was the homely guy from the Internet. His OkCupid pictures hadn't looked especially unattractive—they were, you know, fine — but I met up with him anyway because I was lonely in a brand new city. I also had poor standards, especially when I drank.
We met up at a dive bar, sat on a crusty outdoor picnic bench and got drunk while discussing Writing and Movies and Life.
More From ELLEMark was smart, but I felt not even the tiniest twinge of attraction toward him. Still, he was a decent conversationalist, and he was a dude to pay for my drinks.
I don't remember leaving the bar, or how he ended up coming home with me. All I remember is waking up the next morning, in nearly no clothing, with a man I found physically repugnant, and bruises all over my thighs.
When I asked about the bruises, he said we'd hooked up. I'd seemed into it, he said, "Nothing crazy went down." I felt sick, and not just from my excruciating hangover. After that night, Mark tried to call me three times, but I didn't pick up. I again fought the urge to vomit when I passed him on the street six months later.
Over the years — way before Mark — three different therapists had suggested I try putting the bottle down, but it took that stomach-churning hookup for me to really listen. Joanie, my therapist at the time, drove it home even further when she told me, "Generally speaking, people who don't have drinking problems don't experience blackouts."
I was 29 when I decided to stop drinking. But I never expected that doing something so positive for my long-term sanity would be such a powerful hit on my love life. I've been sober now for the better part of eight years, and during that time, I haven't dated anyone for longer than three months, despite being smart, reasonably attractive, and gainfully employed (I'm a homeowner, for God's sake!).
I didn't think about the realities of sober dating much beforehand. I figured it might be tricky passing up the wine list on a dinner date, but I never considered the nerve-wracking nature of trying to explain why I didn't drink or, worse, the torturous awkwardness of getting naked with a new guy while stone-cold sober.
It was glaringly apparent that alcohol and I never made an attractive pair. I'd been a near-daily, frequent-blackout drinker since stomping off to college at 18. Alcohol served as an escape from my messed-up brain. I'd been diagnosed with depression at 16 and started meds at 17. Although the antidepressants helped, they didn't help enough. I still spent 90 percent of every day dogged by an ongoing inner narration of all the ways I wasn't good enough.
Alcohol also made the dude thing so much easier. I'd always been super-shy, and the guys at my high school barely looked at me. I felt monumentally insecure about my relative lack of experience. Plus, as a late-blooming American girl growing up in the '80s, I'd absorbed all those insidious cultural messages from movies and TV and magazines and distant great-aunts: A woman's nothing without a man to love her, I learned, and sex is the quickest route to earning said love.
Throughout college and beyond, I confused sex with validation. Every hookup felt like another brag I could add to my collection of conquests. It felt like my attractiveness level (which, messed up as it is, can make up a big piece of a woman's self-worth) magically shot up by each new man who wanted to sleep with me.
Drinking helped blur my senses enough to let me do things (and people) I'd never consider when sober. Sometimes I had enough wits about me to recognize that I was only hooking up with someone because I was bored or lonely. But usually I was just too wasted to care about the reasons. All that mattered was feeling, for even a few minutes, like I was the beautiful, desired center of someone's world.
First dates led into bed, which spiraled into months-long relationships with men I felt nothing for. That stout, earnest 26-year-old virgin with the black eyes and floppy hair? I flinched when he touched me, but at least I wasn't sleeping alone.
When I finally stopped drinking, it was hard, especially in the beginning, but it got easier with time. I started going to recovery meetings and swapped candy and coffee for red wine and vodka tonics. Ensconced in a new social bubble with likeminded strangers who were learning together to take care of ourselves, I rosily imagined staying single for six months, max, before being karmically rewarded for my epic sober bravery.
But ... no. Dry dating was about 6 gazillion times more difficult than I'd envisioned. I tried dating guys in recovery, but nothing panned out. They seemed fickle and immature, more interested in casual fooling around than in dating. Plus, I was way more picky about who I'd go out with, and I had no clue how or when to tell "normal" guys I didn't drink. What's a breezy way of saying "I'm a teetotaler" without giving the impression that you're either a disturbed ex-mess or a party pooper?
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Courtesy of Ruthie FriedlanderPhoto: Courtesy of Ruthie Friedlander
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowI've had three categories of breakups in my life. The "holy shit this sucks and I don't know how long this is going to suck for but I feel like my limbs are being ripped from my body" breakup, the "wow, I'm so relieved that just happened" breakup. And then there was my breakup last year.
More From ELLEExactly a year ago I had one of those earth-shattering breakups you only see in a movie, except that usually in the movie the girl ends up back with the guy, and that, I assure you, did not happen in my situation.
I'll spare you the dirty details, but I'll paint you the following scene:
Our relationship ended over the phone. I was in Miami Beach on an annual family vacation with 19 (count 'em) people, mostly women. I was the third youngest on the trip, so 17 people, save two of my cousins, had known me my entire life and upon hearing what was going on were figuring out where the nearest gun supply store was.
There were two days following the breakup where I was basically comatose. My mother bribed me with promises of trips to The Webster. My sister joked that there were "hotties at the swim-up bar" just waiting for me. I stayed in my bed. I wasn't even crying. I just was trying to breathe.
Finally I came to breakfast one morning. People looked at me like I was a piece of porcelain. I went to dinner that night, too. And I even talked a little bit.
I held my phone close to me the entire night, anxious to get some sort of news—news that this whole thing was a huge joke. Someone must be playing a huge practical joke on me. Instead, I just spent most of the night checking my Instagram.
"You should get a dog," my sister finally said. "Maggie makes me so happy every time I come home."
Maggie is my sister and her husband's 80-pound dog (not part Rottweiler, they swear!) and while she's a lovely creature, the idea of her in my 600-square foot apartment is terrifying.
"You should get a dog," my seven-year-old cousin agreed. "Puppies are so cute."
I wanted to punch my sister in the face.
Courtesy of Ruthie FriedlanderPhoto: Courtesy of Ruthie Friedlander
"Get a dog. Get a dog. Get a dog," she began chanting.
I explained that I didn't have a life for a dog. I didn't have the schedule for a dog or enough money. Maggie goes to a doggie day care, gets weekly manicures, and is walked three times a day. That mutt has a better life than I do.
I looked back down at my phone and refreshed my Instagram, praying there'd be something new to entertain me. This conversation was killing me.
"But I agree, Ru," my mother began, "Coming home to something that needs you could be really good for you."
Does someone have a small handgun, I wondered? I decided simply not to respond. Refresh, Lady Instagram, refresh! Finally, a new photo!
An editor I knew had just got a brand new kitten ("Ew" under normal circumstances, who likes cats? But in this case "Aw" because this thing was fucking adorable.) She'd just posted a new photo of creature. I stared down wondering if I had an eternally updated collage of photographs of this kitten, would my life just be easier? Better?
My sister grabbed my phone.
"ARE YOU TALKING TO HIM," she snapped. "Ew, are you looking at cats?"
My cousin, cat owner for 14 years, lit up. "Ruthie are you looking at cats! Oh my god, you should totally get a cat!"
I explained that cats go to the bathroom indoors, that they shed, that they spy on you, that you never know what they're thinking, and that in general, they're creepy. I assured her that her cat was fine, but that I grew up with a dog, and if I was ever going to get a pet, it would be a dog. Full stop.
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