The divorce list

We have all been to that wedding. You know the one. The one where you are trying very hard to be generally happy for your friend/relative and not say anything overly snarky, but – way down deep – you have a suspicion they are not going to make it as a couple. You don’t want to be right, but you can’t help how you feel. Then, after time passes and you hear word of the breakup, you have to bite your tongue and never admit to anyone that you knew it wouldn’t last.

There is no lack of lists on the internet defining the keys to a long and healthy marriage. I was a bit surprised, however, to see this one in my inbox, detailing the signs that a couple is going to get divorced

It turned out to be a fun read, because it reminded me of how ridiculous these types of relationship lists can be. For example, the second tip to avoid divorce, points out that couples shouldn’t have a lavish wedding, but a low-cost affair. But then the third tip points out that they should have more than 200 guests at their wedding. I am not sure how many people have successfully pulled off the low-cost wedding with more than 200 guests (and have everyone who attended say they enjoyed it). I can say that I did not have anywhere close to 200 people at my wedding, but that I happily did get the chance to talk and dance with everyone there.

So, you know, take the list with a grain of salt. People were not meant to live their lives by lists (except, maybe to-do lists, if you are into that kind of thing.) As for that wedding you are going to in which you know the couple is not going to last, try to enjoy it as a beautiful moment of happiness in life – however brief it may be.

What’s the worst marriage advice you’ve ever heard? Leave it in the comments.

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Emotional Attraction Triggers To Get Your Man

Women attracting a man

“Chase a dog and it runs away, run from a dog and it chases you.” This short but peculiar statement actually translates well into the dating world and goes far beyond the immediate satisfaction of merely physical attraction but goes to the intuitive emotional attraction which makes an individual crave another for no truly tangible reasons. Since men are truly visual creatures it’s sometimes difficult to understand why many will often avoid a truly attractive woman in pursuit of someone whose physical attributes maybe a bit less evident.

 What does it mean to be emotionally attracted to someone? Well, in extreme examples some have said that it is like quitting smoking and then having someone blowing smoke in your face, you desire it so much that it can feel like an  addiction that can only be satisfied by that person. Now that is a severe instance but you get the idea.

Emotional attraction triggers are healthiest when based on positive emotions and not brought about by emotions stirred by past relationships.  In understanding how to create emotional attraction with a man it is important to understand what men who want a relationship, especially a committed relationship find most important in a women, beyond attractiveness.

In today’s society men want someone that they can count on to be there for them and for themselves. In difficult times a woman that is self-sufficient can ease quite a bit of stress that can often present itself in a relationship. By being able to take care of herself, her partner may not feel as responsible or awkward should things get tough. It may not seem like much but many men feel this is an incredibly attractive characteristic of a woman and can create a very tight emotional attraction when combined with other positive emotions.  Confidence in a woman would also fall into this area as this too displays strength and the ability to fend for one’s self.

Another of those key emotional attraction triggers is found in the woman that may be mysterious or elusive.  This brings out feelings of curiosity in most men. It’s like a puzzle that they just can’t quite figure out. Most romantic men can be completely thrown off guard by a combination of physical attraction and a certain woman’s unpredictability. This is where it gets a bit tricky trying to understand that much of what triggers emotional attraction are the things that a man can’t figure out, or is unwilling to discuss. For these visual creatures, that which is un-seeable is confusing, and thereby desirable.

Emotional attraction signs are very evident if you know what to look for. Basically, look for that Deer caught in the headlights look that most men would prefer a woman not see. It may start out as little subconscious spark and develops into a blaze that could rival the sun. It’s a craving that can only be quenched by being with the object of that desire.

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5 Ways to Make your Summer even Hotter

When the summer heat rolls in, it’s time to kick back and enjoy the finer things in life. For some ladies this means exotic travel, shopping or beach-bumming. Whatever is on your must-do list, you should make sure to include these five smokin’ delights.



Buy new strapless bra

A woman can always enjoy that extra perk with a brand-spanking new strapless bra. Perfect for racer back tank tops or sweetheart necklines, the strapless approach makes your outfits look great. As an extra, plus you should keep an eye out for style with a padded version, giving you that extra boost—hurray!


Discover a new cocktail

This summer, try experimenting with different drinks until you  find your new dirty delight. There’s nothing like a patio sunset when you’re sipping on an uncharted cocktail made just for you. You can even get your girlfriends in on the fun and each try something unique from the menu or have the mixologist whip up his own special concoction. Enjoy, ladies!


Meet a new man

What’s July without some summer lovin’? Put some zest into your weekends with a new man in your life. Yet, if finding your Romeo seems too tricky, consider downloading a dating app. There’s tons of different ones out there, but if you’re looking for something genuine try the new app, WhoWinkedMe. You can video live in real time, similar to Facetime, allowing you to talk to guys more naturally. You’ll also receive notifications on your phone when you’ve been “winked”, indicating that someone is interested in you…. Let the flirting begin!


Try a new lipstick

Ah, there’s nothing quite like a new lipstick. To bring in the new season, experiment with some new colors and textures to change up your look. This year, the runway was filled with bright pastel hues, which are perfect for stepping up that pout. Take your friends to your local beauty store and see which ones work best with your skin tone. Once your done, you can snap a selfie and try out a new filter.



Finally, as probably one of the most underrated things to do, you should smile! A smile makes you look better and feel happier. So why not slap one on and shine through your day?  

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Would You Wear a Wedding Dress Made of… Toilet Paper?

Your wedding day is your time to shine and most brides will agree that their wedding dresses are the most important things on their wedding planning lists. Some brides opt for more traditional styles, some go for what’s topping the latest trendy lists, and others find their perfect gown somewhere in the middle.

Well, the Charmin and Cheap Chic Weddings annual ‘toilet paper wedding dress’ competition proved that today’s bride shouldn’t rule any idea out.

Would You Wear a Wedding Dress Made of Toilet Paper?
Image via Charmin’s Facebook Page

The $10,000 prize went to Van Tran, a young designer from Brooklyn, NY (worn here on a gorgeous model). 

Be honest– you would never believe that dress was made completely of toilet paper and glue. It’s stunning, intricate in detail, and carries a traditional flair while maintaining a unique one-of-a-kind appeal.

Would You Wear a Wedding Dress Made of Toilet Paper?
Image via Charmin Facebook Page

I really liked the top three and while I admit the “fan favorite” caught a side-eye from me, I think they competition is cute, fun, and creative and that’s what wedding planning should feel like for all involved in the process.

For more about the competition, check out the #TPDress hashtags on Twitter and Facebook.

Would You Wear a Wedding Dress Made of Toilet Paper?
Image: Maria Castro via Twitter

Would you wear a wedding dress made of a non-traditional material like toilet paper?

Feminista Jones is the Love & Sex editor at She is a writer from New York City.

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To Fellow Survivors of Sexual Assault: I Don’t Know You, But I’m With You

The Brock Turner case has really caused an uproar on social media and the internet in general, and to be honest, it would make no sense to not write about it at this point.

As a survivor of sexual assault myself, this case has definitely roused a lot of feelings for me. I’ve been trying to figure out how I could possibly write a post about it without it being a huge mess of emotions.

But I realized it doesn’t have to be unemotional, simply because this case is full of emotion.

So we go on, please read this and then read the powerful letter that Turner’s victim wrote to address him in court.

Don’t skim or skip through it — I know it’s long, but you need to read it.

I’ll wait.

Done? Sweet.

In light of the recent Brock Turner case, I want fellow survivors of sexual assault to know: I'm with you. Read this post to find out why.

Recently, people took to Twitter with the hashtag #IWasRapedToo, to share their stories and stand in solidarity with rape survivors in light of the Brock Turner case.

Most of the tweets are people bravely sharing their story for the first time ever, and supporters showing empathy and saying to survivors, #webelieveyou.

In my tweet, I said that being a rape survivor myself only adds to my fury about Brock Turner’s far too short sentence, because it silences the voices of rape survivors and says that they don’t matter.

What I can’t get past is the fact that it’s blatant rape — she was unconscious and obviously not consenting — and still, the judge gave him a minimal sentence because it would “have a severe impact on him.” 

Never mind the fact that he has scarred his victim for the rest of her life.

Never mind that the thousands of survivors of rape out there are seeing this happen and being told that their rapist’s suffering matters so much more than theirs that they can get off with a fraction of the sentence they deserve.

It really does show how our society treats rape.

Brock Turner was convicted of the intent to commit rape of an intoxicated unconscious person, penetration of an intoxicated person, and penetration of an unconscious person. He was originally charged with rape, but after DNA tests those charges were dropped.

So he was not convicted of actual rape — he was convicted of the intent to rape, because under Californian law, “sexual assault” and “rape” are two different things. For someone to be convicted of rape, there needs to be penetration by the penis, which Turner did not do.

Now Turner has to register has a sex offender and is supposed to serve six months of jail time, with the possibility of three months based on good behaviour.

And that’s screwed up.

In Canada, sexual assault is sexual assault. There’s no specific difference between rape and sexual assault in the law.

And to me, that makes way more sense.

I highly doubt that my experience of rape where a penis did penetrate is “worse” than that of Brock Turner’s victim’s. In fact, I really don’t understand why there needs to be a comparison at all.

It’s just freaking wrong to do anything sexual to someone without their consent!

He got away with it, with barely even six months if he can pull off good behaviour, because he didn’t really commit rape.

The funny thing? When I was raped, there was penetration. A penis went inside me and I didn’t want it there.

And I still didn’t think it was rape.

With that short of a sentence, the experiences of hundreds of survivors is minimized.

It tells us that even when it’s blatantly obvious, the courts don’t have our back. 

Even when it’s crystal clear, we still have to fight tooth and nail just to be heard — barely.

In light of the recent Brock Turner case, I want fellow survivors of sexual assault to know: I'm with you. Read this post to find out why.

Because of her, I know my voice matters. I know that writing about my sexual assault matters because there are so many of us who get shut down.

And if we don’t fight, well… who will?

Knowing that we are on our own in this fight, whoever you are, whether you are Brock Turner’s victim or a different survivor completely, I want you to know: I am with you.

It doesn’t matter what happened to you, and it especially doesn’t matter who did it to you — black or white, rich or poor. 

Between you and me, I’m never backing down.

What are you thoughts on the Brock Turner case?


In light of the recent Brock Turner case, I want fellow survivors of sexual assault to know: I'm with you. Read this post to find out why.

Read more about feminism, gender, and sexuality at my blog, Flight & Scarlet!

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What My Husband ISN'T Getting for Father's Day

Once again, Father’s Day has completely snuck up on me. Yeah, yeah, I know it comes the second Sunday in June every year. But, see, I’m too busy being a MOTHER to have time to remember such things. So, I scramble yet again to find a meaningful, useful, and CHEAP Father’s Day gift for my husband.

What I know he really wants…. A blowjob.

But Father’s Day is in JUNE. When school is out and kids are home. Wait until they nap? Ha, ha. That’s funny. Kids napping. Wait until they are in bed? I’m too wrecked at that point to do anything other than pass out myself. Oh, and I’m currently eight months pregnant. So, if by some miracle, we do find a few moments of privacy, there’s no position that this aching large-bellied body will contort into that is conducive to mouth to genital contact.

What he wants… An iPad.

He’s too polite to come out and ask for one directly but he has been hinting. He works long hours and travels most of the time to support our family. I’m the one that manages the monthly budget. And there are a lot of things that need to get paid before I do any shopping at The Apple Store. Like, oh, doctor’s bills and car loans. And if he did own an iPad, it’s lifetime would be cut short as soon as juice was spilled on it while my son gets to level two-zillion of Angry Birds.

What he wants… A membership to a monthly massage club.

One has just opened up in our neighborhood. First of all, see: the primary reason he isn’t getting an iPad. Secondly, I can give him massages for free at home. (Except I don’t… because I’m too tired and pregnant.)

What he wants… A day off work, family time, and me to be happy.

THAT I can do. As a mostly-traveling dad, he really values the few times we do something as a family. Even if that’s weeding the yard followed by a pizza. And it really bothers him to see me uncomfortable from this new bun in the oven and stressed out over money or schedules. He’s a great dad. And so we’ll spend the day telling him so, joking around, and having a care-free time. Because that’s what is so rare around here.

What are you getting YOUR husband for Father’s Day?

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I Choose Both

When you’re married,  you don’t choose which part of your husband you like. In a relationship, you need to choose both sides of your husband, the good side and the bad. Think back to your wedding vows, you probably said something very similar to: “I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” Did you catch it? I put it in bold font for you so wouldn’t miss it. You choose to be with your husband for better or for worse. That means, whether he is being a pain or is making you smile, you choose him. There are things about your husband that you may not always be fond of. It may be annoying, petty little things and it may be bigger things. But you chose him. Don’t forget that. You made a vow to him and to God that no matter what life throws at, you will always love him and be faithful to him. That means, choosing both. Love every pigheaded part of him. Every annoying habit. Even the things that make you angry (talk about those issues, don’t let them simmer). Just remember, you didn’t marry half of him, you married all of it. The good and the bad. Choose both.

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How I Learned to Age Gracefully

When I was in my early twenties, I longed to have a bit of belly fat so that my belly could look as sexy as that of my best friend. Eventually, it happened and I was ecstatic. Today, I have more belly fat than I had asked for.

When I was twenty, I was often the center of attention. Today, I’m no longer the center of attention, but rather watch proudly as twenty-somethings master center-stage much better than I ever did.

When I was twenty, I could run up the stairs many times over. Today, whether I go up or down the stairs, my knees remind me that I’m no longer twenty.

I learned how to age well

Image: K Kendall via Flickr via Creative Commons license

When I was twenty, I could eat whatever I wanted and as much as I wanted while developing pretty close to no body fat; and I didn’t develop cellulite until I was in my late 30’s. Today, cellulite keeps my thighs, buttocks and belly warm at night and during the winter months.

When I was twenty, I had no wrinkles. Today, I’ve earned my stripes.

When I was twenty, I had no grey hairs. Today, L’Oreal is my accomplice.

When I was twenty, I was too shy to wear a thong bikini. Today, I wish I still had the body to wear one.

When I was twenty, I had more energy than I knew what to do with. Today, I’ve reached a point in my life where I treasure inner peace and tranquility.

When I was twenty, I had to dance to channel my emotions. Today, I’m able to talk them out, but I still love to dance, even if I’m spatially challenged.

I’ve never been a wallflower. I’ve always spoken my mind ever since I discovered I had a voice. However, when I was twenty, I lacked the confidence to know when I should speak up. Today, I’ve developed confidence and assertiveness, but also the ability to choose my battles.

I’ve gone figuratively swimming amongst alligators, snakes and sharks; all in the same tank. I not only survived, but managed to earn respect.

I’ve also been fortunate enough to have several men take me under their wings throughout my career and show me the ropes while giving me the freedom to be me. Likewise, I’ve been protected by women older than I, who guided me and reprimanded me when I needed it. Today, I look back with appreciation and try to pay it forward every opportunity I get.

I’ve been blessed with friends who demonstrate integrity, sincerity, kindness, and a giving and loving nature, who have always been there when I’ve needed them. I hope I’ve earned their appreciation and respect as much as they’ve earned mine.

When I was twenty, I thought the accumulation of wealth made you rich. Today, I know better.

When I was twenty, I was afraid of making mistakes. Today, I know that the only way to learn the lesson well is by making them.

When I was twenty, I thought I had to prove something to the world. Today, I simply open the door and my heart to those who want to know me.

When I was twenty, I did what I could to darken my skin, often suffering burns so it would have “some color.” Today, I cherish my milky-white skin and say to people when they ask me to go suntanning, “I don’t ask my brown-skinned friends to lighten their skin, so why do you ask me to darken mine?”

When I was twenty, I wanted to conquer the world. Today, I just want to see it.

When I was twenty, I felt twenty. Today, I am forty-eight, but my spirit still feels nineteen.

When I was twenty, I laughed with a loud, uncontrollable contagious laugh. Today, I still laugh the same way. It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed.

Do not be misled by my apparent sense of self-confidence, for I have many insecurities, most of which I choose not share here. They are, after all, my kryptonite. However, today I know they are also what make me uniquely human.


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Bachelorette Debauchery: How I Knew My Fiancee Was the One

“Pull over,” I mumbled, my cheek pressed against the cool glass of the passenger side window. “Pull over!” I insisted, louder this time, cupping my palm underneath a mouth that threatened to spew every free tequila shot I’d poured down my throat in the last six hours. The car came to a screeching halt and I stumbled out, retching violently. My fiancée stood by my side in the puddle of illumination from the headlights and rubbed my back. “It’s okay,” he crooned. “It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. It so wasn’t. I felt embarrassed and foolish and stupidly ungrateful.


 Love and Marriage


When I met my fiancée, striding across a hotel lobby to meet a friend I was dating at the time, shivers danced up and down my spine. It took him a little bit longer, but I knew right away. He was the one.  And I was furious. A studious girl in college, nerdy and awkward, I’d just begun to blossom into a real hell-raiser in my twenties. I hadn’t even worked the nerve up to have a one-night stand yet. And there he was, making all those things look petty and unimportant.  I tried valiantly to push him away with my ferocity, but he just kept shaking his head and coming back for more.


When we decided to get married two years later, I resolved to create a night of debauchery that would rival Kesha on a massive, drug-fueled bender. It was my last chance to experience a single life I had never enjoyed properly. Friends flew in for my bachelorette party and since we already lived in a college town, the list of clubs we could fall in and out of was endless. I put on my tightest black pants, knotted the bachelorette checklist shirt the maid of honor had insisted I wear somewhere around my rib cage, and took my exposed navel and bad intentions to every bar in the city. I don’t remember much after the fourth club, just bits and pieces of stumbling recollections.  By the time my husband came to pick me up at 2 in the morning, I was making out with one of his friends in a darkened corner of the parking garage. He just laughed and honked the horn.


“Just one more minute,” I slurred drunkenly, waving my hand in the air and holding onto his reluctant friend for balance. Later, after our pit stop on the side of the road to empty the contents of my stomach, my fiancee eased me into the warm steam of a shower at home. The bachelorette checklist shirt had come with a marker that had been knotted around my neck. At some point during the night, casual strangers had decided to stop writing on the shirt and had started tattooing my skin with Sharpie. Phone numbers, names, tiny phallic symbols. My fiancee spent the night before our rehearsal dinner scrubbing tiny penises off my back with his loving hands and a loofah.


The next morning the sun was unbearably bright and no amount of coffee could convince me I was not going to die. But I had a hair appointment, so I gingerly stepped into my Jeep Wrangler and drove down the street. My hair was plastered with sweat to my head and I had sour breath so powerful toothpaste didn’t even put a dent in the stench. I was pulled over in two seconds flat by a cop who could plainly see that I might still be drunk from the night before.  I tipped my sunglasses up onto my forehead and gave him my full confession. He grinned and took pity on my utterly wretched state, letting me off with a warning to get more coffee and sober up. Yeah, man. On it.


When I got back home from my hair appointment, the apartment was eerily quiet. My fiance was bowing to my insistence on tradition and staying elsewhere the night before our wedding. But in the middle of our bed was a plain white box, unadorned by ribbons or wrapping paper. My heart jumped into my throat. I expected a cliched trinket or some such nonsense. I am one of those utterly alien beings- a woman who doesn’t give a damn about jewelry. And my fiancee, while possessing the patience of a saint, had never been a particularly thoughtful partner.


Inside was a rock. A small one. About the size of a quarter. Shot through with quartz and flecked with gray and black. I stared at it, puzzled. Great. He got me a rock. He’d paid twelve dollars for my engagement ring from a boutique store downtown and I’d found it sweet and utterly charming. But this was taking things a bit too far. In the bottom of the box was a folded piece of paper, crisp and new. Scrawled in his barely legible handwriting was a note. He’d proposed to me in the middle of a wildflower-dotted meadow in the Tetons, where we’d hiked eight miles up to an alpine lake.  When my husband-to-be went down on one knee, all I could think was that I hadn’t showered in three days. I was wearing a bandanna and a sports bra. Later, when we went down into Jackson Hole to celebrate and took a bath, we left a black ring in the tub that I’m sure the housekeeper cursed over. 




Unbeknownst to me, when my fiancée had lowered himself to the ground in that valley to take my hand, he’d picked up a small rock and slipped it into his pocket. And he’d given it to me on our wedding day, to remind me that what we’d share would always be ours. A language only we could speak, undecipherable to others. I sat on my bed the morning of my wedding and struggled not to bawl my eyes out. Over a damn rock. Because I was NOT going to have swollen, red eyes on my wedding day. But it was no use. I was wrecked; overwhelmed by the realization that I’d always known he was the one. I’d only let myself settle into the certainty of it in those moments, had finally accepted it with gratitude. And fourteen years later, I’d still let my husband scrub tiny penises off my back any day. Thank god he doesn’t have to. 


Kaz Weida


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