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Can love stay after Valentine's Day?

Wed, 2007-02-14 14:54 - Kerry

Well Being / Meditations & Motivations

5 Secrets for Making Love Last

Hands-On Tips for Nurturing Your Valentine
By Jennifer Gruenemay, ACE-Certified, LifeScript Staff Writer
Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Valentine's Day shouldn't be the only time of year that you go the extra mile for your spouse. After all, showering your spouse with flowers, candy and diamonds won't make up for being a louse the rest of the year. In fact, letting your husband or wife know that you love him or her beyond the edges of the Earth is accomplished in the little things you do every day. And by that, we don't mean showering your spouse with gifts every day. Instead, use these tips to help you focus on the areas of your relationship that are often neglected and need to be nurtured. Plus: Find out what your movie star sex style is.

1. Touch Each Other
It is easy to forget about the little things that make such a huge difference, like touching each other; a brush of the hand against her cheek, rubbing his shoulders after a hard day's work, touching his arm while you have a conversation.
2. Laugh Together
You don't have to be a practical joker to have a little fun with your partner. In fact, practical jokes aren't usually funny for the person being played. But sharing in some healthy humor with your partner is indeed a very important part of a healthy marriage. It's what gives color, flair and entertainment to the many years you plan on being together. Without humor, a marriage becomes boring, colorless and frustrating.
If being funny doesn't come naturally to you, learn a funny joke and tell your partner. Even if you mess up the delivery, you're sure to get a good laugh. Buy one of those telescopic forks and find a clever moment to reach over in the middle of dinner and steal some of their food. (This is also hilarious at family gatherings, especially if you sneak food from Grandpa's plate while everyone else is watching.) Play silly board games together. Point out interesting people walking by and share a giggle. Whatever it is that makes your partner shake with laughter, do it often.
3. Give a Self-Esteem Boost
Who doesn't want to feel good about themselves? As selfish as it may seem, everyone wants some attention and reassurance that they are loved. Every day, tell your partner how proud you are of them, and give specific examples to boost their self-confidence.
 
Whether it's about their work, how they handled a certain situation or even for how great they are doing sticking to their diet or fitness plan, don't keep your pride to yourself.
Tell your husband how sexy he is in that plaid shirt or tell your wife how beautiful she is when she's not wearing any makeup. Boosting each other's self-confidence will not only add security to your relationship, it will allow each person to blossom into the successful person they were meant to be.

4. Disagree When it Counts

Just because you're in a committed relationship doesn't mean you have to change your personality. And, in fact, you shouldn't get married to someone that you think needs to change, because chances are they won't. So instead of giving in to the relationship pull to lose your personal identity, be an individual! You both came into the relationship as unique people and it should stay that way. This is not to say that you shouldn't ever compromise with each other.
 

But when you bottle up your disagreements, you're only headed straight for an angry explosion. Instead of letting things build up, let your partner know what exactly it is that is bothering you and encourage them to do the same. There's no rule that says married people have to agree on everything. Be honest about how you feel, know when to compromise on a situation and never give up your personal identity or expect your spouse to do so.

 
5. Dream Together
You both have dreams and aspirations, both for your marriage and for yourselves. Dreams are the vehicle upon which the impossible becomes possible, where fear of failure is obsolete and success is inevitable. When you dream, you put all the restrictions of reality behind you and are filled with a sense of exhilaration that can actually lead you to make positive changes in your life in order to reach that goal.
 
Nurture these dreams both for yourself and for your partner, and plan for adventure. Having something grand to look forward to, whether it's an African safari or a summer's day spent at the beach, gives you a break from your everyday routines and puts the thrill back into the journey you are both taking together.
 
What's Your Movie Star Sex Style?
Here's a personal question for you: If you had to pick a movie or television star whose on-screen seductions parallel your own sex style, who would you choose? Take our sizzling sex quiz and find out if you really do match up well with your favorite sexy starlet's bedroom style. Take this celebrity sex quiz.

Comments

Tue, 2008-02-05 20:16 — neophyte

yea, yea, yea.  Just

yea, yea, yea.  Just another day for people who aren't paired with another person to feel like crap.  When does the commercialism stop and "buying more" becomes less important?  I hate the whole pressure-thing that gets pushed on us to be matched with the perfect person, as if life will always be about romantic dreams and kept flowers!

Am I the only one who thinks we can all do a little better if there was no New Years Eve, Valentine's Day and Mother's Day?

Wed, 2008-02-06 22:49 — Kerry

Alone on Valentine's Day?

V.D. isn't just for "lovers", although we sure are led to believe that's the center of all that matters that one day.

Here's a little love-story wrritten by a mom, who finds herself suddenly "single" on Cupid's Day of Reckoning:

In February 2002, having lost my husband five months earlier on September 11, 2001, I wasn’t relishing my first Valentine’s Day alone. Single for the first time in 16 years, I decided escape was my best option: After looking around online for vacation packages, I booked a week at Club Med in the Dominican Republic. Not only did this resort have child care services to look after my two kids, but I figured that Valentine’s Day in a foreign country would be a non-event—and a non-event is what would protect me from the painful memories I was sure to encounter if I lingered at home in New Jersey. I had visions of lounging by the pool while my six-year-old daughter Olivia swung high above the beach strapped into a trapeze as Carter, my two-year-old son, paddled about with other toddlers under the supervision of a fun boy counselor named Marco. Warmth and sunshine seemed like the perfect antidote to Valentine’s Day.

My first few days in my muggy hotel room, however, were hardly the relaxing respite I was hoping for. On the first night, I was up administering Tylenol to my feverish daughter. The next morning, I left Carter in the “Baby Club” while I took Olivia to see the doctor at the infirmary, where he promptly declared it was Strep and began administering Amoxicillin. Then, picking up Carter from the Baby Club, I found him sobbing inconsolably, neglected by the gossiping teenagers who were supposed to keep him company. From that moment on, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. For lunch, I negotiated the buffet-style cafeteria with Carter clamped to my hip, making multiple trips. A bowl of pasta, a hot dog, a glass of milk. By the time I sat down to eat, my food was cold.

In the chaos, I had forgotten Valentine’s Day until the morning I showed up at the cafeteria for breakfast and saw the first of the red construction paper hearts taped to the door. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, willing Valentine’s Day into oblivion. But inside the restaurant, I was undone again by the single red roses on each table. They reminded me how my husband Arron always gave me a single red rose for Valentine’s Day.

After breakfast, we made a break for the pool. No hearts. No roses. Blue. Sun. Coconut. I was able to ignore the empty chaise lounge beside me by immersing myself in the kiddie pool. At naptime, in our turquoise room, bordered with sea shells and star fish, I watched TV while the children slept. But unfortunately, it was American TV. Valentine’s Day TV. Lovers on Oprah. Successful dating stories; couples in love on every channel. I couldn’t escape. I turned off the TV with tears falling off my chin. I imagined him here, spending Valentine’s Day with his family at Club Med. He probably would have abandoned me for a game of tennis. But still, I would get my rose. He would hold my hand. He would kiss my ear. We would be together and that would be all that mattered.

That evening, there was to be a special Valentine’s Dinner at the cafeteria. On the first day of the trip, I had been lucky enough to meet a group of three families from New York state who were traveling together. After hearing my story, they had taken me and my kids under their wing. The dads swung Carter into the pool. Olivia was invited to another room for a sleepover. That day, they had insisted we meet them for Valentine’s Day dinner together. While I appreciated their kind offer, I was tempted to decline: Why would I want to be surrounded by a bunch of loving couples? Still, lacking any better plan and afraid of appearing rude, I dressed up and met them in front of the restaurant, where there were now two staff members dressed in red handing out single red roses. I gritted my teeth as I was handed mine. I did my usual tray-balancing act and managed to get my veal scallopini to the table without it hitting the floor first. As I sat down, I figured I’d just put in my time then politely disappear.

But as I started eating, I found myself having a better time than I thought. I even stayed for chocolate cake. As I chatted with my new friends, I marveled at how kindly they were taking care of me. We were virtual strangers, and yet they were caring for me as though I were an old friend. During that dinner, my expectations of what I thought Valentine’s Day should be shifted. I would never again experience the love that Arron and I shared together. But as I looked at my children and at my new friends, I realized that I was feeling less sad. I began to see that if you looked hard enough, love was right in front of you.

Later, after dinner, there was a Club Med sing-a-long. Reluctantly, I waved my hands in the air and sang along to the Club Med theme song: “Hands up baby, hands up. Gimme your heart, gimme, gimme your heart…” And then it dawned on me. Valentine’s Day was not just about receiving love, it was about giving it, too. Afterwards, I clamped Carter back onto my hip and held Olivia’s hand as we walked back to our room singing “Hands up baby, hands up, gimme your heart…”

Abigail Carter’s work has been published in Self magazine and appears in the anthology, Over the Hill, Between the Sheets: Sex, Love and Lust in Middle Age.

http://msn.match.com/msn/article.aspx?articleid=7186&TrackingID=516311&BannerID=544657&menuid=7&GT1=10886

Sat, 2008-02-09 14:18 — neophyte

not the same

Sure, it's cute to see a parent enjoy the love felt for his or her offspring, but I imagine that's a love still connected to another adult person.  I mean, how else can a child come into the world, without the help of another human?  I at least like to think there are parents who do see their kids as reflections of a love between two people, and not a petri dish or adoption certificate.

I think I'm going to try something different this year, and bask in my solitary confinement.  Sometimes that does this soul good.  I read an article that features the worst of sappy love stories.  Maybe I should rent a few and see how bad my life compares to imaginary love through the eyes of movie stars!

By Kim Morgan
Special to MSN Movies

Oh boy. Valentine's Day. A holiday that reminds couples of their romantic feelings for one another, a day that inspires wooers to turn up the volume on their courting, and a troubling time that (sorry) brings out the most desperate, obnoxious, guilt-ridden, dysfunctional sentiments in those forced to partake. Because, let's face it, many feel pressured by a day filled with conspicuous bouquets, ridiculous balloon arrangements and couples engaging in too many public displays of affection.

And then there are "romantic" movies ... perhaps some of the worst Valentine's Day offenders of all. Though mostly harmless diversions, entertainments we watch knowing full well how unrealistic they are, they also work as a reminder of how your life isn't anything like the movies or, worse, how delusional some viewers are. And no, I'm not talking truly great romantic movies like "Casablanca," "The Philadelphia Story," "The Apartment," or "The Big Sleep." I'm talking movies that are either overrated or, in some cases, just plain creepy. Here are 10 beloved modern love "classics" I find most egregious. Read, disagree, call me a cynical jerk, whatever. Just know I'll never sit through "Ghost" again.

"Pretty Woman" (1990)
Here's my problem with "Pretty Woman" -- it's not that Julia Roberts is a prostitute; rather, it's why is she a prostitute? Aside from discussing how her mother used to "lock her in an attic" (who wrote this? V.C. Andrews?), the picture rarely delves into that troublesome area called backstory or motivation, and we can only assume Roberts' incredibly healthy, sweet-hearted, model-beautiful Vivian is a streetwalker because she was abused or super depressed or hated her job at the Sizzler. Maybe she's just clinically perky. But who cares, right? We don't need to know why she has taken to the streets -- over becoming, say, one of Heidi's girls, a much more realistic Hollywood option for a woman who looks like Roberts. As long as we know it's not really what she wants to do with her life, it's fine. She wants, as she says, the "fairy tale," which she does indeed receive via Richard Gere's wealthy businessman, a guy who gives her the full Henry Higgins treatment while paying her to sleep with him (that part is realistic, sorry Eliza Doolittle). There's so much about this movie that's not romantic -- from the first embarrassing seduction scene, to the breakthrough moment when the couple fornicate and kiss on the lips, to the whole "you and I are both whores" reflection, to anything involving utensils. I've simply never understood why it became so instantly beloved. And the final scene is such BS lip service. When Gere plays the white knight, wooing and rescuing his princess from the clutches of a dumpy hotel room, she says, supposedly all plucky feminist, that, "She rescues him right back." Rescues him from what? The piles of money she's going to spend on Rodeo Drive?

"The Way We Were" (1973)
This is a tough one. For the most part, I revere Sydney Pollack. Not only did he direct one of my favorite downer movies of all time (the masterful "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?") but also the political-romantic gem "Three Days of the Condor." He also directed "Tootsie" and contributed a memorable performance as Dustin Hoffman's frustrated manager ("A tomato doesn't have logic!"). He also offered some of the most scathing moments in Woody Allen's brilliant anti-romance movie "Husbands and Wives." He's pretty much golden in my book. Except for his ridiculously overrated "The Way We Were," a movie that paired the mismatched Robert Redford with Barbra Streisand in a forced, syrupy period piece filled with cloying Marvin Hamlisch music and bland political tension. It hasn't aged well. Stick to the aforementioned Pollack, watch Redford in just about anything else, and check out Barbra in the infinitely superior and underrated "The Owl and the Pussycat," in which she plays a lovably obnoxious prostitute. Huh. Streisand plays a better hooker than Julia Roberts. Go figure.

"Sleepless in Seattle" (1993)
Oh, the early '90s ... such innocence. No personal e-mails for every household, no endless scrolls of confessional blogging, no chat room flame wars, no abysmal reality TV dating shows. Paris was still a place for lovers, New York had nothing to do with Tiffany Pollard, and Seattle was ... sleepless. It actually makes me a bit misty thinking how little we knew back then -- that we were on the precipice of a communication explosion. This watercolored memory steered me back to 1993's "Sleepless in Seattle," a movie where Meg Ryan falls in love with Tom Hanks the old-timey nontraditional way: from a call-in radio talk show. For some reason I thought the film's period quaintness might make me reassess what I disliked about it the first time around (boring, unlikable leads, silly side characters including Bill Pullman and Rosie O'Donnell, and an all-around hollow feeling). But, alas, it continues to disappoint. Maybe I'm a little paranoid, but there's something a tad stalkerish about Ryan's character as she falls for Hanks' architect widower, traveling from Baltimore to Seattle to track him down. There's a lonely feeling to this movie that's actually quite interesting, but rather than creating intriguing characters from such a predicament (and both Hanks and Ryan would be up to the task), the movie relies on lame clichés regarding men and women (did you know all women love "An Affair to Remember"?) and stock romantic scenarios. Interesting that Tom and Meg would fall in love through technology, yet again, in the equally sappy "You've Got Mail." Which brings us to ...

"You've Got Mail" (1999)
Through that magical innovation called e-mail, a woman corresponds with a man she's never met. They fall for each other and decide to meet not knowing that the woman, who runs a small, children's book store, and the man, a big-business, chain-store retailer, are archenemies. But, gosh darn it, they're both lovable moppets with crinkly smiles and that means everything when faced with this kind of narrative opposition. Reunite "Sleepless in Seattle" stars Ryan and Hanks, add some wacky sidekicks, slate Nora Ephron ("When Harry Met Sally ..." and "Sleepless") as screenwriter and director. Add a dash of modern pontificating, but not enough to make it too foreign-tasting, and whip to a light, fluffy froth. Serve lukewarm. Voilà! Modern Romantic Movie Soufflé! Blech! Delete! I want Billy Crystal back!

"Ghost" (1990)
Do I need to discuss the plot of this picture? You already know it's about Demi Moore's poltergeist paramour Patrick Swayze as he attempts to both move on to the heaven world and solve the mystery of his murder. Trouble is, he can't properly communicate with his beloved, requiring the assistance of sassy psychic Whoopi Goldberg. Goldberg won an Oscar for her performance, and though she may not have deserved that, she is the only entertaining aspect to this endlessly cornball movie. And I know the scene is famous, but please -- pottery isn't sexy. It may look hot handling all that clay, smoothing its creamy consistency into a flower pot, or vase, or bong, or whatever you're crafting, but it requires some attention and skill and strong hands. (OK, now it's starting to sound kind of sexy.) But really, it's not something you want to attempt while Swayze is hovering behind you, turned on because your potential planter looks, well, phallic. Demi should be annoyed when he touches her clay, laughing over wrecking her possible "masterpiece." Thanks, buddy. No "Ditto" for you.

"Love Story" (1970)
Here's one thing I do know, love means having to say you're sorry -- a lot. Like all the time. Don't listen to the clichés of Arthur Hiller's "Love Story," a picture that seems frozen in a time that never was, and one that remains eternally baffling for popularity alone. Released in 1970, the same year as cinematic classics like "M*A*S*H," "Five Easy Pieces" and "Little Big Man," you have to wonder who was buying this load of malarkey ... especially with the performances of Ryan O'Neal as Harvard hottie Oliver and Ali MacGraw as sassy, working-class, Radcliffe-attending Jenny. They may photograph well, but the famous leads didn't and still don't have any chemistry -- just a lot of magazine layout emotions and zombielike banter. Unless you're filling the movie with your own memories of love and loss (and really, you have to), getting teary by the film's famous ending (yes, Jenny dies ... sorry!) is near impossible. For this, the movie should definitely say it's sorry.

"While You Were Sleeping" (1995)
Love sure makes you do crazy things. Especially unrequited love. Ask Sandra Bullock, who is so besotted with Peter Gallagher that she pretends to be his fiancée after he's hit by a commuter train. See, he's in a coma, so what does he know? And who is she hurting anyway? And besides, Jack Warden tells her she's a positive influence and shouldn't feel badly about her behavior. This gives her a pass to look through his personal belongings, spend Christmas with his family, fall in love with his brother (played by Bill Pullman) and ... well, it's all really complicated, OK? Um ... no? Not OK? Alright, I know this is a movie and one wonderful aspect to cinema is removing us from the reality of day-to-day existence, but come on! Bullock's high quotient of cute can't save this picture from being flat-out creepy. Even the title, "While You Were Sleeping," is scary. Give Bullock a blond perm, a rabbit and some psycho "Madame Butterfly" moments and the innocent sleeping swiftly becomes ... "Fatal Attraction." Hmmm ... maybe he didn't fall in front of that train after all.

"My Big Fat Greek Wedding" (2002)
"Moonstruck," a genuinely romantic, inspiring slice of romanticized Italian-American life, this was not. And yet, this picture, adapted from star/writer Nia Vardalos' one-woman stage show, was a big, fat, independent hit, striking a chord with viewers seeking mindless fluff or a big-screen version of every stupid ethnic sitcom they'd ever seen. The story finds 30-year-old frumpy Greek waitress Toula (Vardalos) transformed by computer college, a makeover, a job at a travel agency and, yes, the love of her life -- the tall, WASPY drink of water Ian (played by John Corbett). But how can she reconcile her colorful Greek family -- one that finds the Greek root to all words or thinks vegetarians only eat lamb or believes Windex a miracle cure -- with her fiancé? And what will her proud Greek father have to say? Too much, unfortunately, and in a coarse, pandering way. Not surprisingly, this movie was turned into a TV show. Not surprisingly, it was soon canceled.

"Four Weddings and a Funeral" (1994)
Oh dear ... I know there are some of you out there who absolutely adore this movie, and I will concede there's lots to admire here. Hugh Grant is self-deprecating and charming (though I prefer the nastier "About a Boy" cad Grant over this); Kristin Scott Thomas is immensely likable; and John Hannah reads a mean W.H. Auden. But ... Andie MacDowell (or, as one of my friends calls her, "the woman who almost ruined 'Groundhog Day'") ... why did director Mike Newell agree to cast her? Not only is she uninspired, but she's incredibly unlikable as the object of Grant's longstanding affection. Aside from her beauty, it's unclear why timid Charles (Grant) falls instantly in love with Carrie (MacDowell), whom he meets at a wedding and then meets again, at another wedding where she brings her fiancé. She has no idea he's devastated (yeah, right), he tries to make sense of it all while, sadly, not understanding that Fiona (Thomas), who pines for him, is the real catch. Worse, we're rooting for Fiona, not Carrie, making the picture's ending "happiness" so entirely irritating. I suppose that's how it works in the real world: The nice guy prefers the annoying, brittle, trophy girl. But I don't think that's how the movie intended us to feel. I mean, he actually says to her, "In the words of David Cassidy, 'I think I love you.'" She doesn't deserve such soaring romantic sentiments.

"Dirty Dancing" (1987)
Remember when people loved this movie unironically? I sure do. I recall sitting on the school bus with girls gushing over Baby and corners and the Catskills and "Wipeout" and wondering what the hell was wrong with them. To be fair, we're talking girls, not adults, but even certified grown-ups were gaga over this and still are, making the picture some kind of '80s classic. While I do get that viewers found non-knockout Jennifer Grey refreshing as the privileged girl enjoying summer vacation with stud muffin dance instructor Swayze circa 1963 (though I'm pretty sure girls back then didn't wear denim cutoffs the way she did), that doesn't excuse the picture's endless procession of cheesy, cringe-inducing moments of romance and ridiculously "dirty" dancing. Yes, Swayze is a talented dancer. Yes, it's nice to hear an Otis Redding song in a movie. Yes, yes, Jerry Orbach is a class act, but ... oh god ... that crawling "Love Is Strange" moment? No amount of post-'80s irony can make that moment not embarrassing. And can someone please explain to me what, "She's like the wind, through my tree" means? Ugh. Stay in the corner, Baby.

Kim Morgan is a film writer who runs the MSN Movies Filter blog and has contributed to many outlets including LA Weekly, Reel.com, DVD Journal, Salon and The Huffington Post. She was a film critic for The Oregonian and served as DVD critic on Tech TV's "The Screen Savers." She's also appeared as guest film critic on AMC's "The Movie Club," E! Television, Reelz, Starz and "Ebert & Roeper." Read her blog at SunsetGun.com.