I often imagine that there’s life on other planets, but like us, they don’t have the resources to leave their planet and come to, much less find ours. Then I imagine that they might know about us, b/c we send so many TV signals into space. Then I wonder what the aliens must think of us. For example, if I were to judge American Love through TV, I would think that 1) That it’ss usually men who initiate divorces, trading their wives in for someone they have been cheating with. 2) The vast majority of men cheat. And … 3) Almost no man wants to get married and have children. However, in real life it’s statistically proven that the vast majority of American divorces are initiated by women. Of course, both men and women cheat. And, I’m fairly certain that the number of heterosexual men who don’t want marriage or children is rather small compared with the general population. I think if the aliens did truly get to know us, they’d be surprised by all the married men in America who aren’t cheating or trading in their wives for younger models and who want to have children. So why is television so stuck on portraying men in this fashion? Maybe this is what life is like for the modern male TV writer? Maybe they’d rather not think about the fact that their wives are much more likely to leave them than vice versa. Or maybe it’s a reflection of the American value system: We like our women pure and our men dirty? Either way it seems to me that men have been getting an unfair reputation from TV, books and movies...

So last week Amy Robinson from “Tall Drink of Nerd” mentioned  that if a fire broke out in her abode, she would grab her kitties and her laptop and rush out the door. This got me to thinking about two things: 1) In my current pregnant condition, how would I manage to wrangle our cats, who don’t come when called and don’t like to be picked up? I can only hope that I never have to figure this out. ALSO… 2) What material things do I love enough to take with me in a fire? I came up with three. Let me preface this list with a conversation that I had with a friend while in college. Lanisha (in reference to me using my floor for clothes as most women at Smith used their closets): If you love your shit, you take care of it. etc (full of anti-materialism fervor): I don’t love my things, Lanisha. They’re just things. I reserve my love for people. Fast forward, 11 years later, and I do realize that there are at least 3 things in my life that I would be willing to risk third-degree burns for: 1. My Purse: It contains my wallet, which will come in handy when I have to replace all the things I lost in the fire. And it also contains my Kindle, which will keep my mind occupied while I’m in a hotel room, waiting to hear back from our insurance people. 2. My laptop: I didn’t have a laptop (or any money) in college. That’s why I couldn’t fathom loving a material thing enough to take care of it. But like most writer’s, I would risk life and limb to save it from harm. 3. My iPhone: Communication is very...

Photo by ElenAndrea I found this Jezebel article, which argues against puttting a deadline on love interesting. While I agree that you can’t predict when love will find you or you will find it, I do believe in healthy love-based goals. I consider the search for love the same as the search for the perfect career. I came to LA prepared to leave if I didn’t “make it” in two years. I searched for writing jobs through different venues nearly every single day. I applied for jobs online, through friend referrals; I padded my resume with DIY film projects and by writing plays; I often wrote for free or for a laughable pittance. This was extremely depressing and it seemed like I would never actually be paid to write, but then lo-and-behold, 3 years after my arrival in this fair city, I actually found a full-time writing gig. So while I wish I hadn’t beat myself up so much during my first 3 years of looking, I do credit persistence with getting me what I wanted. And I feel the same way about love. In my opinion if you say to yourself, “I want to find somebody to spend the rest of my life with” and you steadily work towards that goal, consistently putting yourself out there, trying new things, and engaging with people, even when you’re feeling fragile and bleak, then you’ll find what you’re looking for love-wise. However, if we don’t give ourselves deadlines, how do we organize our search for love and career? As extreme as putting a deadline on love or the perfect career might seem, I’d rather deal with an unfair deadline than the frustration and depression that comes with “no...

Photo By Timothy K. Hamilton So the last thing I ever said to my mother is, “Love you, mom.” This detail of our last conversation has brought me amazing comfort over the past 13 years, and now I try not to hang up from conversations with my family members, husband and best friend without saying some variation of “I love you” — even if I’m really mad. Mostly b/c I do love them, but also just in case. Of course, it’s not just my BFF that I love among my circle of friends, but that’s where it gets a little awkward. It’s really hard to say “Love you” when you get off the phone with your friends, b/c it makes things kind of weird. I tend to feel like I’ve surprised said friend or forced them to say “Love you, too” out of politeness, rather than real affection. I find it much easier to sign off my emails with “Love, Ernessa.” That way if any of the friends I love (God super-forbid) passes unexpectedly, then at least I’ll know that the last words I wrote to them were ones of love. It’s not quite as good as saying it maybe, but it does the trick. And I’ve been pleasantly surprised about how many of my friends have now made it a habit to sign off with love when they return my emails. How about you guys? How do you guys handle professions of love? Do you have a family members only policy? And do you, like me, find it easier to tell friends that you love them in writing rather than in person? Let us know in the...