The Best Western in Galena, IL looks unremarkable from the outside — just another hotel chain off the highway. Inside, it’s a different story. There’s a stone-walled cave room, a shell-shaped bed in the aquarium room, and a classic honeymoon suite filled with mirrors. “What a nice surprise,” Margaret Bienert says to the camera, soaking

My Darling Quarantine, I fell in love with you the moment I first heard your name. I knew it was wrong—I hated myself for loving you, but I couldn’t help myself. I yearn for you: your sweet, sweet stillness, your long hours of the day, your unvarying sense of self. How could I love something

Desiree Watts just wanted to find community with other skaters. She remembered roller skating as a child growing up in upstate New York, living with her grandmother, who’d been a roller disco queen in the 70s and 80s. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, it seemed like a perfect time to pick the sport back up.

I often joke that this year, I work in a field called called “gynechiatry”—a mix of gynecology and psychiatry. It’s normal for patients to share intimate, often anxiety-provoking parts of their lives with their OB-GYNs, including details they don’t even tell their closest friends and family members. Yet I’ve never had as many patients cry

This year has been tough on a lot of relationships, but for one New Yorker, it was extra difficult as the pandemic revealed new sides of her boyfriend, a 34-year-old working in tech. Here, the 35-year-old publicist (who wishes to remain anonymous) tells her story. In January 2020, my then-boyfriend moved into my studio apartment

On a Friday in May, I walked into the doctor’s office almost 20 weeks pregnant with identical twins. I came home that night pregnant with just one baby. My son is now one. When I see his face, when I feel him reach for me, I think of his brother. I treasure my son; I

I’m the daughter of Trinidadian immigrants to Canada—a Black woman of East Indian and African heritage, like Kamala Harris. Like the Democratic vice presidential candidate, I also went to high school in Montreal. And like her, my husband is white. With these similarities, I’ve wondered what Kamala Harris family gatherings look like. They have to

I still remember the day I told my husband, he was “ruining my life.” It was an oddly clear San Francisco day in April 2017 and we had just finished having lunch. In a couple of weeks, I’d be returning to my job as a reporter for Fortune Magazine after taking a few months of

Coming out as a fully fledged adult can feel like staring at yourself in a funhouse mirror: Am I looking at the same me I was looking at before? Have I been wrong this whole time? Am I faking it? Or, as the chef and food writer Molly Wizenberg says in her new memoir, The

Francisca Concha had other plans for June 27. In a perfect world, she would have enjoyed dinner with family on the deck of a boat cruising through canals in the Netherlands after marrying her partner of three years, Vincent. They would’ve ended the day with friends at a bar toasting their new life as a

I would kill to have an orgasm, but I refuse to die for one. That’s my daily quarantine mantra. I whisper it when I get a Raya alert. I scream it while giggling wildly with friends. Eventually I text it directly to a film director—the kind who thinks if he slides into my DMs, I’ll

In the lead up to the 2016 election, I interviewed three couples who were going their separate ways in the voting booth. In each scenario, she was voting for Hillary Clinton, and he was not—a microcosm of the divide felt across the nation. Now in 2020, the presidential election has only taken on more weight,

O Magazine For many people, October marks the full-fledged start of fall—pumpkins galore, Halloween decorations, and lots of comfy sweaters. This month is additionally important, though, because it’s also Breast Cancer Awareness month, and a time to honor those who have been affected by breast cancer. October is a critical month to encourage communities and

Simone JoynerGetty Images Black women have long been the bedrock in the fight for civil rights. Still, when these movements gain traction, Black women are often left behind or erased entirely. We’ve seen this happen in the midst of the struggle for Black lives. The police killings of unarmed Black men are most often the

The floral arts have been around for ages, but for anyone who has exhausted their to-do list of tie-dye DIYs and sourdough starters, the prospect of a putting together a tidy bouquet might actually feel like a fresh idea. Whether it’s a star centerpiece or a small touch of everyday style, a charming set of

Science & Society Picture LibraryGetty Images More than any other type of present, the art of the thank-you gift is all about showing the recipient that time and consideration went into its selection (which is why a re-gift is never a good option). Personalization is essential for handwritten notes, as well. If you take the

Last year I took my first trip to Ghana. What was supposed to be a 10-day trip of rest and relaxation turned into so much more. Instead of spending the last few days partying, I made the last minute decision to visit Kokrobite, a beach town just outside the capital city of Accra. Standing on

Courtesy Depending on how you look at it, a one-year-old is either the hardest or easiest person to gift on your shopping list. By 12 months they’ve started to appreciate things and are on the go, scooting or crawling and doing a whole lot of exploring. But a mastery of speech is still not in

Courtesy Picking a gift for someone who really, really loves their dog is simple: Find something that celebrates said canine in some way, shape, or form. Whether it’s jewelry they can wear on the daily or customized art, you can’t go wrong if it reenforces the idea that, yes, their dog is nonparallel and the

George Floyd was murdered on May 25. The video of his killing by police, taken by courageous 17-year-old Darnella Frazier, sparked demands for justice far beyond the streets of Minneapolis. By May 30, Americans were protesting police brutality and systemic injustice in every state in the union. Unfortunately, there has been a steady stream of

First I made borscht. I yanked the skin off chicken drumsticks. I hovered over the pot like an anxious parent at the playground, spooning off froth. I sliced cabbage into ribbons and grated beets until my fingertips were magenta and raw. Consulting notes scrawled on Post-Its, I tried to divine what my mother meant when

About two months ago, my dad began to experience a series of strange neurological symptoms. He regularly felt pain radiate up and down his right arm, and occasionally into his neck and jaw. Sometimes his fingers on his right hand would tingle or go numb. The nerve pain was so uncomfortable that he had to

On my sixteenth birthday, my father gave me a ring. It was Black Hills Gold. A yellow band with a heart made of flimsy pink and green gold leaves. This was my purity ring, the ring given to me to represent a pledge to safeguard my virginity. It was my commitment to abstinence and to

Two years ago, while I was in Vermont for a yoga teacher training, I had my first threesome with a married, cis-het, white couple. I found them on Tinder, as you do. My profile was simple. Me backstage in a tube top dress with a smirky smile. A swimsuit selfie in my friend’s pool. A

The first time I cried during the pandemic, I was sitting on my future in-laws’ white couch in their Manhattan apartment. My fiancé and I were watching the movie about the guy who realizes the Beatles never happened, so he pretends to be the one who wrote their songs. It’s a great concept but a

As the COVID-19 crisis continues and health care practitioners attempt to divert non-essential traffic to local hospitals and clinics, U.S. residents are finding themselves up against increased hardship when it comes to accessing medical care; and women are learning just how detrimental this can be to their health and wellbeing. Christie, a mother of two,

I was born in Indiana, in a village so remote our closest neighbors grew popcorn. After my birth, in a snowstorm that closed interstates, my father rented a monster truck and drove across the fields to retrieve my mother and me from the hospital. I grew up one state over, in Ohio. Our town was

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not even playing the lottery,” my father Jerry P. Jackson said to my startled ears. It was the beginning of social isolation in March and he was taking every precaution against Covid-19. He had stocked up on food and wasn’t leaving his house in the Lithonia suburbs of Atlanta. I