1. The summer I turned nineteen, I started dating a man who only ever referred to my race by occasionally calling me "Hello Kitty."

  2. Dissatisfaction can feel like a hailstorm happening inside our own heads, an endless window-rattling howl-a-thon so insistent and destructive that it seems amazing our partners can’t hear it – and yet, that’s subjectivity. Your partner is probably distracted by his own internal hailstorms, or else by “Bojack Horseman.” You have to tell him there’s a problem for him to know.

  3. If Rami Malek were your boyfriend, you would often be asked, “And where are you guys from?” with that pointed, exacting look, and the two of you would make up a new country and a fake history on the spot, every single time. Last time it was "Cloaca," a tiny island off the coast of Croatia -- so beautiful, but entirely surrounded by sharks.

  4. Adopting the label of “polyamorous” comes with enough raised eyebrows. When I am ordered to give something like an impromptu PowerPoint on “what that means,” the owners of the raised eyebrows are inevitably sorry they asked, as the confusing addition of “solo” requires its own entire presentation.

  5. Asking a heterosexual man to change his entire name--first, middle, and last--after marriage can feel risky. He may cling to the name his parents carefully selected for him at birth. Maybe he’s named for Grandpa Blazegrits or Uncle Orhan; maybe he’s even a II or a III. These days he may expect no change, a hyphenation, a portmanteau, or--in some cases--to change his LAST name to yours.

  6. This time last year I called the cops on my husband. I can’t completely remember the path that led to that, not the medium-term path. Long-term, he’d been prone to violent, scary fits of temper and self-harm on and off for years. Short-term, I’d gone to bed on an evening when going to bed looked like—was meant to look like—an act of war.

  7. The first time I ever spoke publicly about the games I make was at a social event in October 2013, hosted by a Toronto-based feminist non-profit called Dames Making Games (DMG). I had created a small, personal game about my experiences with disordered eating, and while I was proud of the game, I was also terrified of speaking about my experiences.

  8. If Tilda Swinton were your girlfriend, you’d be mostly vegan, although Tilda says labels are for the uncreative. You’d marvel at her silo full of legumes, and the only meat you’d eat would be the brown trout that the twins catch on the banks of the firth. You’d feel guilty about that time at your parents’ house when Tilda ate—and loved—pork rinds, since you didn’t realize that she didn’t know they were meat. But, as Tilda says,…

  9. There are, I think, drawbacks to being constantly incredulous. I wouldn't say that a substantial dose of skepticism isn't a good idea; I will merely suggest that excessive mistrust can result in the loss of potential joy, and I do not want that for you. I want you to maximize your possible happiness, while maintaining a healthy, wary outlook that protects you from getting eaten by predators. The possibility that I want you to entertain…

  10. Previously by Jasmine Guillory: If Lupita Nyong'o Were Your Girlfriend If Nigella Lawson were your girlfriend, all of your books will be food-stained. If Nigella Lawson were your girlfriend, whenever you said you were too full to eat any more, she would playfully poke your belly and say “But darling! You look like you’re losing weight! You need to keep your strength up!” She’d wink, you’ll sigh, and eat another lemon curd-laden…

  11. When I learned about the goat who refused to leave a Tim Hortons in Martensville, Saskatchewan, I cried real tears. At the time, I was sitting in a café. It wasn’t a Tim Hortons café, unfortunately, because I decided to go to grad school in America. It’s a decision I question every day of my life. Because: aren’t we all the goat who just can’t seem to quit Tim Hortons?

  12. Previously in this series: If Stephen Colbert Were Your Dad If you were Wonder Woman and Chris Pine were your boyfriend, you'd take a special, spiteful pleasure in apprehending any criminal who dressed in plaid. Because all day, every day, you'd be SURROUNDED by plaid. On laundry day, you'd look into the hamper and yell, "Jesus H. Christ, it looks like the Brawny Man vomited into this thing!" and Chris Pine would chuckle from…

  13. If Alexander Siddig were your boyfriend, you'd know how to play cricket. You'd own matching sweaters, which you'd wear when his and your families got together for a game. If Alexander Siddig were your boyfriend, you'd make breakfast together in a well-coordinated dance: he'd set out the eggs and butter up the pan while you put in the toast and set out the plates. Then you'd switch places -- you would grab a pan to…

  14. Dear Aunt Acid, I'm an undergraduate woman participating in a summer math research program. My project team consists of me and two other students, both men. Both of them curse constantly and casually. As long as they're just swearing, it doesn't bother me enough to make it worth bringing up, but I do object to their misogynistic language -- "what a little bitch," "don't be such a pussy," and so on. (Whether or not these…

  15. 1. I really love musicals -- Phantom is about my favorite play ever! -- and I can't think of anything I'd rather do more than see a brand-new, original musical. But I've been so distracted with my cousin's bridesmaids all staying at my house. There are eleven of them, and they haven't even changed out of their dresses, and it's been three days since my cousin's wedding. As soon as they leave, I'll be able to focus. 2. How…