For as long as I can remember, my sartorial choices for Valentine’s Day have involved pajamas.
I’m not talking about the beautiful silk Carine Gilson kind, worn for a séjour at Le Meurice, surrounded by rose petals and champagne. No, I’m referring to the Uniqlo single-girl variety, worn on a couch, surrounded by comfort food and Scandal.
Read on HERE!
My French hubby-in-law was recently asked to recommend a romantic scenario for celebrating Valentine’s Day in Paris. Manicorn that he is, he immediately whipped up the following recipe.
1. Book a table at the private Rose Salon at Cristal Room Baccarat.
2. Take her on a champagne-fueled tour of the art gallery before dinner.
3. Dance “Por una Cabeza” in the reception room, which apparently looks like Versailles.
4. Prepare to be f*cked like a cheesecake.
In case you guys didn’t know, the gem that is Dbag Dating was first created in 2009, when I was twenty-two, unemployed and certifiably insane. My penchant for reckless globe-trotting and repercussion-free romantic trysts lead to a series of crazy adventures, some of which were chronicled via this very blog. Of course, right as it was starting to pick up, I happened to meet a boy and fall in love, causing me to abandon the project – and dating – altogether. Reading back, I miss the old me, with her wild antics and juvenile, tongue-in-cheeck musings. And so, I have decided to bring it back in the way we resurrect all nostalgic memories on the Internet – with a TBT!
I love me a Latin anything – Mexican food, Peruvian corn, Pisco Sours, Flamenco, you name it. Never having stepped foot in South America (yet – I’m saving myself), I have successfully outsourced the culture via a number of crazy Latino friends, as well as the other national treasure that this part of the world to offer – los hombres.
Latin men have led to some of the more exciting adventures of my young life. There was the Argentinian singer I met next to the Beatrice Inn one night, who played me ballads on his guitar while whispering sweet nothings in my ear. There was the Brazilian boy who flew all the way to Paris to visit me after knowing me for merely a few days. Lastly, there was the suave Peruvian we appropriately nicknamed Juan Pablo, who, in his brief moment of courtship, treated me better than any other guy ever did.
A couple of months ago, my Parisian girlfriend asked me if I wanted to join a gym together. “They have a sauna and a great Sunday yoga class,” she proudly announced. A sauna— this was her selling point? I love a good spa session as much as the next girl, but what about the core classes, the abs, the cycling, the heavy lifting?
Read on HERE!
Last month I, along with the rest of the world, read the Modern Love article “To Fall in Love With Anyone, Do This”, which chronicles a writer’s experiment of falling in love via 36 questions, derived from some fancy psychological study. Granted, the writer fell in love; I was sold. (Desperate times call for desperate measures.) The challenge now lay in finding a poor sucker who would be willing to sit there and answer 36 questions about himself – and, worse yet, listen to me answer 36 questions about myself, a mildly unbearable feat considering that I’m known to manifest six opposing notions while answering one single question.
Luckily my fan friend and fellow blogger Isaac of Isaac Likes was in Paris for Fashion Week and happened to be a perfect contender for this project – I mean, the guy has a relationship blog of his own! It was a match made in Bloglovin’ heaven! Plus, having only met a handful of times, we didn’t know each other that well, which happened to be one of the prerequisites for the experiment. I sent him the link and he immediately agreed, although he did appear uncharacteristically nervous about the part where we were supposed to stare into each others eyes for a total of four minutes.
