The Literary Review's Bad Sex in Fiction Awards shortlist went live last week, reinvigorating the timeless debate about what makes good sex in literature. “Writing about sex can be like a complicated game of Twister,” writes Sarah Duncan at The Guardian. “You sit in front of your laptop, trying to work out where everything's going.”

I had coffee with an ex-boyfriend last weekend. My move featured technically two ex-boyfriends, though at the time I was in some pretty spinny denial about the one. Sometimes I think my life is kinda like "My Boys," but all the male friends are exes. That's an exaggeration, of course. No way I'm as cool as PJ, and I barely remember the last time I hosted a poker game. Sigh.

Not long after I graduated from college, I worked at a government agency. One of my co-workers was in the middle of a bitter divorce. Prior to the divorce, he stayed home caring for his two young sons. Once his wife left him, however, she filed for custody of the children. At the time, he did not contest the filing, as he did not want to upset his kids any more than they already were. However, he was clearly heartbroken and missed nurturing his children.

Harry & Sally. Rhett & Scarlett. Lancelot & Guinevere. Lucy & Ricky. Johnny & Baby. Name famous romantic couples and since 2007, Marlboro Man and The Pioneer Woman deserve a spot in the Top Ten.

I visited a friend in London this past weekend. While I was there, I ate lots and lots of yummy chocolate and cheese and baked goods. I basked in the idea that national health care was a given. Even more, the UK National Health Service doesn't rob women of their reproductive rights by allowing religion to dictate what health services are covered; except for in Northern Ireland, termination (abortion) services are covered. After a horrible week in the US, where Democrats sold out women and allowed religious lobbies to impose their beliefs on my health, I thought about defecting. London is perfect! Well, except that even in the UK, women are told that you need set aside your own preferences and needs if you want to get and keep a man.

What do you do when one spouse wants another child and the other does not? Add advanced maternal age and one fallopian tube to the equation and you have a recipe for disaster. I am an only child and in my ideal world would be the mother of two children. However, my desire may not be fulfilled. My husband is not too keen about having another child, I've heard every excuse from the economy to sleep deprivation and am honestly at my wits end.

There comes a time in every single girl's life when she must confront the fact that someone is calling her out for being single. It happened to me a few nights ago when I was having dinner with two female friends. Luckily, they are friends, and I know they have my best interests at heart. I know this even when one of them has a momentary...slip in rationality.

This is not a post about heartbreak. This is a post about what comes after. For me, for the past 7 years, what came after was, "Next!" I have been The Queen of Dust Yourself Off.

This week several events transpired that had me musing upon the power of making and keeping a commitment. Not in a martyr sort of way, but in the way that speaks to your character and your potential. Your reputation and relationship with self and others is built on the foundation of you doing what you say you will do. How do you measure up to your own speech?

Let's face it: shopping for men is stupid.We want to get them something they'll love, something other than grilling tongs or cologne, and so every year we ask hopefully, "What would you like for Christmas?" And every year we hear the same, mumbled, "I dunno."

I called it The Great Drought. The economy was crashing and had taken our sex with it. I spent hours glued to the television watching the market, trying to determine whether maybe, just maybe, the conditions would allow for a seduction.

It always seems to me like knowing what you want will make things so much better. And yet, once you get there – no matter how long THAT takes – you soon find that knowing what you want is more like a first step in a process. And getting there is the real nightmare. I remember in my 20s when I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. If only I could figure it out, I reasoned, then everything would be so much better. I ached to be rid of the quest to figure out what I wanted.